The Writing Flower

Hi y’all! Just realized I never introduced myself. ( How rude of me 😔) So just thought I share something’s about myself.

• My favorite color is purple. (Idk if that was obvious)

• Currently a High School Student

• I don’t have one genre of music I listen to!

• I’m Queer

• I’m into Paranormal stuff

• My favorite mythological/ Supernatural Creature is a Werewolf (idc what u think they’re fucking cool!)

• I’m in a lot of fandoms, but here are my favorite ships:

- Byler (Stranger Things)

- Inhun (Squid Games)

- Hiccup x Astrid (HTTYD)

- Aarmau (Aphmau: MYSTREET)

(Although I’ll probably not post about about this but maybe another blog for this stuff)

Hi people!!

Sorry for not updating semi consistently like I used too…

I’m being honest life’s been kicking my ass lately so I have been able to write lately.

And when I have it all doom and gloom and y’all deserve better than that. Maybe I’ll allow myself one but yeah.

Hope you all are doing great! I’ll be back soon (Hopefully)!!!

I’m sore

And it’s not from going to the gym with my dad, like we do most hot summer days.

It’s not the type of soreness that tightens your muscles in that good successful feeling.

I’m sore

And it’s not from talking too much, like I do at the dinner table.

It’s not the type of soreness where your jaw achces because you had too much to share.

I’m sore

But it’s the way my heart clenches.

It’s the type of soreness that tightens its grip on when I hear someone younger is better at what I’ve been doing longer.

The soreness when we fight.

When I’m mad for a reason and my body heat makes my ears ring with a blaring sound.

The cacophony makes my ears sore. It’s chanting the words sore like it means something.

Because when I tell you that long nights make me sore in the morning. When I tell you I’m too sore to go to church.

Your face stills like a stone. You tell me to rest my body but take away my medication like it’ll do something more than give you an ego boost.

You wish my soreness away mama,

But nothing makes me sorer than when you yell

Mama my brain is sore,

You hurt me and demand an apology.

My soreness is now sharp and shooting through my skull.

This cycle of soreness is something I can’t handle.

Even when I stand at the top of the staircase with you at the bottom,

Still feels like the positions are reversed.

The yellow light overcasted the stalemate.

I, unwilling to back down. You, unwilling to admit the hurt you caused.

Our words clash with one another like a sharp bullet, only causing the sting soreness in my head to sharpen.

I lose any and all ability to back down.

Although I know how it’ll end.

Just as it always does.

Because once you offer purcahsed items like it’s a peace treaty.

In the cold blue… no cerulian color of the lights,

I have one last chance to tell you that I’m sore.

But when I tell you “I’m sore” sounded a lot like “I’m sorry”

I see you little wooden faces,

Those engraved in fences and in trees

I see you sir,

The man who stands by the Honda City on Pulaski,

Selling cheese and sweet breads of all kinds

I see you mister,

Punching the air weakly at 7:20 AM every morning,

Head up, I don’t know what your training for but I wish you good luck,

Oh and my dad named you Steve

I see you group of people,

Huddled around the bus stop by the CVS because you’re all oh so cold

I see you little ants,

In the small dirt pile in my plastic shovel

I’m so sorry I uprooted your home,

But my dad needs space for the patio

I see you bruised brick house,

With halloween decorations from the halloween of 2024

I see you little blonde girl,

Twirling in your pink and puffy tu-tu that puts the one I haven’t worn for ten years to shame

I see you creepy man, handing out Christian coloring books to all the kids by the dollar tree near me

I see you all,

Large or small,

Little shards of time that I keep with me,

I see you,

So please don’t go

You can’t make a bee stop flapping it’s wings.

No matter how hard you try.

They also happen to be very noisy.

My mother told me that they live inside my head.

I never realized that before.

A bees’ hive living behind my eyes. 

Colliding in every which way possible, 

their little translucent wings dusted with half-born ideas, 

buzzing with unmade plans and bittersweet feelings, 

they died with the words that never leave my mouth,

It’s been this way since I was young,

Busy up there,

Still down here,

A bee’s hive caged in a statue,

The cold stone camouflages the bees,

Making them unheard within their thick walls, 

I thought this was normal,

That silence was abnormal,

But my mother says most people’s minds rest, but—

Rest.

The word tingled in my mouth.

So foreign, yet terrifying.

Maybe it wasn’t the word, but the implication of it. 

Like a bee who had lost its stinger.

Explains the feeling of venom pulsing in the side of my neck.

I felt odd after that.

Like a bee lost from its colony.

I hope it finds its way back home.

In a world of water dued grass and storm clouds.

-The Writing Flower

My mind runs on a loop. A scratched record that never seems to turn off.

My mom told me it’s loud up there.

I never realized that.

A bees hive living behind my eyes.

Bees colliding, always having somewhere to be. Haha get it? That was supposed to be a pun.

Their littles translucent wings dusted with half-born ideas. Buzzing with plans and unresolved feelings. And they died with the words that never leave my mouth.

It’s been this way since I was young.

Busy up there.

Still down here.

A bee’s hive lingering in a statue.

I thought this was normal.

That silence was a myth.

But my mother says most people’s minds rest.

Rest.

The word lays tingling in my mouth.

Much like the feeling of finding a stinger in the side of my neck.

I felt odd after that.

Like a bee lost from the hive

Guys I lowkey ran out of poem ideas and I’m having serious writers block!

So I wanna know if you guys have any suggestions????

Please I don’t actually don’t know 😭😭😭