I know I'm crazy but I find it funny that everyone thinks they're the only broken people in the world.

I know I'm broken but I find it lovely that everyone else is broken too.

I know I'm falling apart but I find it heartbreaking that we all have whisper-thin cracks that are tearing us apart and tripping us and spreading until our hearts have shattered.

I know I know

We're broken

But we're not alone 

Glass girl 

There is no ‘maybe’ for a glass girl

She has no choice, break or be broken

From this dark cliff she soon shall hurl.

Two tear-stained cheeks; one limp, loose curl,

Lips parted, the pain of words left unspoken

There is no ‘what-if’ for a glass girl.

In prismatic palms, she clasps a pearl,

What use is love, when you are frozen?

From this dark cliff she soon shall hurl.

For though her mind and stomach swirl,

Her lips unlock and eyes fly open

There is no ‘turn back’ for a glass girl.

Her cracks peek through, her hair untwirls,

This poison prison shall be broken

From this dark cliff she soon shall hurl.

She takes her leave; in flight unfurls

her fear; glass shatters, heart awoken.

There is no repairing a glass girl,

From this dark cliff, my soul I hurl.

~~~

this poem is a Villanelle, by the way! I usually don't write poems in such a strict structure so it was interesting to try. 

Not my favorite, but it's fine. I was inspired by something that had had happened that day during lunch at players so...

there’s a swing outside my window, and

i think it’s haunted.

it’s a wrought-iron black, but made from wood. sun-dried and faded, and it

creaks a little when it moves.

there are spiderwebs decorating the chain it hangs from,

golden sunlight streams through the gaps.

a little broken, a little forgotten,

but i think it’s beautiful;

and so does the ghost, perhaps. it always swings,

backward. and forward. and back.

like it’s talking to the wind?

and i sit there sometimes too,

rocking forward and backward and forward,

to keep the ghost company.

because someday when i am as old and decrepit (for i am already as broken) as that swing i want to sit there again,

and feel the wind. sunlight. silence. peace?

because someday when i have moved on from this world i want to come back and be there,

and i will see that ghost.

for now we are strangers sitting in the sun. a little shattered inside, but that’s ok.

cracks are how the light gets through.

and when i finally meet that ghost, perhaps then i will realize

it was never a thing of the past; it was always of the future?

that ghost was always me.

Sorry for the delay! Everyone’s poems were crazy good by the way!! It was incredibly hard to judge.

Honorable Mentions (in no particular order)~

Hawkstar! 

Your poem is amazing! I love the emotional depth of being “made of steel” yet feeling “shattered like porcelain”, which really resonates. I love the exploration of trust and heartbreak, especially the line about gluing yourself back together while still showing cracks. Overall, great job!

KatanaLuna!

I really enjoy the vivid imagery and emotion used in this poem, especially how it creates a hauntingly beautiful landscape with “obsidian clouds roll across the sky” and “zephyro’s fury fierce”. The image of a “broken bird” wanting to fly again as a metaphor is really powerful in general. Amazing piece!

AvaraStar!

This poem is beautiful, capturing shared vulnerability and experience. The perspective of finding beauty in shared struggles is really refreshing, with the imagery of “whisper-thin cracks” suggesting imperfections that are delicate yet significant. The last line especially with “But we’re not alone” is a powerful and hope-filled ending to the poem. Beautifully written!

Rainbow! 

I love how this poem is formatted, especially the first line being a question making it really powerful. I really like how throughout the poem, you use feelings of not wanting to be different or seen as less than others, making the last stanzas especially feel super powerful with encouragement and reassurance of not being broken. A really meaningful poem!

In third place, we have…Woodwind!

This piece is well-written, with nostalgic imagery like “it’s a wrought-iron black, but made from wood”. The way the poem is split up is really well done, giving it a somewhat melodic feeling. Especially the ending where you say “it was never a thing of the past; it was always of the future? that ghost was always me.” That line is really beautiful, drawing in the whole poem. Overall, an amazing poem!

In second place, we have…WordSong!

I love how this poem is a vivid scene that contains themes of sorrow and memories. The contrast between the pot’s previous state and current shattered state is a meaningful reflection of loss which I really enjoy. The descriptions overall of the pot seem to be a reflection of the narrator that resonates deeply. Really well-written!

And in first place, we have…Phoenix Tears!

Just wow. This poem is super beautiful and poignant and everything. From the repetition of “glass girl” to the imagery of “tear-stained cheeks” and “lips parted”, which convey a deep sense of sorrow and unexpressed pain, it is done really well, and especially since it’s a Villanelle, which is hard to write because of its rigid structure, it’s beautiful. I love how it says “from this dark cliff she soon shall hurl” and the last line is “from this dark cliff, my soul I hurl”. It leaves an impactful reflection of breaking away from what confines us, and using “I” makes it feel more personal and close to the reader. Overall, incredible poem! Congratulations, you’re the next judge!

Interesting prompt :D

...If none of the metaphors make sense, I guess I'll explain them...

Not sure what happened in the last two lines of the third stanza XD 

The last stanza's my favorite part (why? because of the multiple meanings of "eye" and because it talks about nuclear fusion. why else?) :D It was originally a separate poem and still functions as a separate poem

Universe

This 

was a bluebird 

who hated the sky,

the unblinking, bare

blue of the sky,

who thought 

the universe

something more

and wanted the stardust 

gilding every feather.

A bluebird,

who flew,

tore at the clouds until they

settled, ghostly

in its wings,

and it fell

into its hollow

and shivered

without a song

until the belly of its eyes

was round with stars.

Eye,

do not write for you,

I write

for the galaxy

of my mind where each star

fuses memory and tender emotion

and I gather the nebulae 

before they burn me again.

hi i just wanted to get 3000 coments... love your poetry guys!

I don't really post on here, but I want to congratulate you all on hitting 3000 posts! That's crazy!