My fingers skim creased and weathered maps

They file over the gentle curves of the globe.

I see Ukraine still there, it brings comfort for me to know

That no one can ever wipe these lines away,

Can never tear this label off, or truly blot out the borders.

Indeed, it worries me at times

Those inked lines over far-off lands--

Those that were never seen by the ones drawing them,

Made by greedy men from the Northern Lands, not too long ago.

I wish I could reach out for those people divided by invisible lines

Enforced with blood and iron and hate,

Rewrite those country names and zones in pure reflection.

Alas, I can no longer tell

Are these maps any good at all? 

I am a strange girl

I am the girl who sits

alone at the edge of

the P. E. field, under

the great blue dome of

the sky, hawks circling

around her

I am the girl people notice

and then forget

I am the girl who

devotes herself to her books

and her creations

I am the girl with plaited

hair and a book in hand and

a tucked away poem and a

quiet, wise beauty to her,

I am the girl who sits alone

at the front of the bus

I am the girl who answers

questions correctly in class

nearly always, but this doesn't

get her noticed, because

it's so nearly always

I am the girl who braids

starlight and secrets into her locks

I am the girl who twists

her hands nervously when

people applaud her

I am the girl who locks

up her secrets in her heart

like a fairy door in tree

bark

I am the girl who's wild

and wonderful and

beautiful, inside

I am the girl who curls

up with a mug of tea

and a sweater and a

good book when it's cold,

but stares out her window

dreaming when it rains

I am the girl everyone

underestimates, and who

sometimes, often, under

estimates herself

I am the girl who has

a quiet kind of power

I am, and I'm not,

because I'm different,

always different,

and because I'm myself 

The Night Before My 16th Birthday

Your birthday is supposed to be

Some celebration, some milestone

All the kids in Disney Channel movies

Can't wait to turn sixteen

Like it's some rite of passage

Like you're suddenly good enough

I'm not even sixteen yet but I feel

Like I've lived one thousand years already

Adding another won't change anything

Birthdays never do, it's just

Another day in your life

I don't want to be sixteen

I don't want the pressure

Don't want to be asked when I'm getting

A car, a job, a boyfriend

I don't want to be celebrated

I haven't done anything worthy of it

There's nothing special about birthdays

I'll go to school

No one will say happy birthday

Not even my friends

I won't cry when nobody's looking

I'll just take it as it is

I'll halfheartedly receive gifts 

From relatives I'd rather not see

And somehow manage to take another day

--

Here's another poetic rambling

Yeah, I'm turning 16 tomorrow...

Happy Birthday, Sterlng.

Best wishes, Admin

I am going to disappear with my sister.

We are going to fade into the background,

Faze into a nothing-space that is also an everything-space,

Trickle into the deep underlying darkness

And absorb ourselves within the clocktower.

We lose ourselves, just as the world turns blind to us.

We mean nothing, so we can make meaning out of anything

And we've become more than anything we'd ever been

In casting off those identities that we were once given.

Indeed, we are the every-person

Whilst also nobodies, all the same.

I extend a hand, eyes meeting yours:

Will you be joining us, then? 

So um I wrote a limerick lol

There once was a cat named Alfred

Who usually looked like some bread

More often than not

He was a croissant

When he got scared by the showerhead

(and if you're confused, here are a few drawings of said croissant cat-)

Once more

I am covered in angry reds--

Sore, puffy, dripping red dribbles.

Water rushes over my wounds

She stings, it bites, it hurts so much

But I do not move at all.

We stare at each other in solemn silence,

Eyes turned down, watching her wash away

Those furious, vemonous scarlets.

I wonder if I can ever truly heal,

Accept her for what she is, but we both understand well;

There is no answer now, but maybe time will tell. 

Canals fill with scarlet,

It seeps up from somewhere beneath

The creamy Earth, freckled by dark boulders. 

Drops of molten Ruby form,

Condensing to the vemon in the air, perhaps;

As if the Earth herself is now bleeding, 

Or maybe there are invisible spiderwebs 

Trapping bloodstained butterflies

Who cry tears of sunset red --

Captured, set --

Paralysed with stinging twinges

Of pain and fear,

And finally dye those white roses with their last breath;

That is the bleak reality of this land. 

Dull days of grey clouds,

Clouds that cry rain--

Rain I wish I could enjoy again;

Again the tormenting cycle spins. 

So this is a poem i made a while ago, i made pictures to go with it which i might put up if redo them, or i any of you want to see the original i,ll put them up on the Art posting( .....
First one.
Fairies..
Rustling of the grass
Splashing of the water
Chatter of the town.
This is were the fairies live.
Whistling of the flute
Soft plucking of the harp
Music all around you.
This is were the fairies live.
Flitting through the forest
Happy little smiles
Walk softly..
and find were the fairies live.
Its kinda short but what ever.
#2
Body and Mind
Flickering from thing to thing.
It longs to be free
to roam with no limits.
It feels warm and flowing
Inspiration falls from the sky.
Striking my brain..
like a sudden bolt of lightning.
Outside on a sunny day.
My body moves as quick as a feather,
On a strong gust of wind.
Nothing is more peaceful than sitting in front of a
crackling fire.
Falling asleep is like rising up to the stars.
Dreaming, day or night, takes me to a place of calm.
Just two for now, i think i might start to do more poetry, its fun.
Wiccan said "rwrow" Your not a motorcycle, Your a captcha.

You say not to focus on the pain,

Not realising the pain is my anchor;

For how can life be anything, if not reminders

That we are but fragile mortals.

You say to close my eyes, imagine the world ahead:

But I have no choice to watch the dark stay dark,

Aphantasia's cloudy fingers blinding the eye inside my head. 

You say to fly away, if that's what I've always wished;

Why can't you understand my fear--

I'm not afraid of healing, only flying so high

I can never find or return to my body;

For I am always flying, soaring away,

Always dangerously close to losing sight of Real Life.

It is a miracle I have not lost myself completely by now,

But it is an ever-present worry; 

To wander that barren, desolate wasteland alone,

Without being able to ever go,

It haunts me-- taunts me-- follows me to and fro'

'Til my imaginary wings are weighed down with invisible lead

And no longer can I fly, for that anxiety, it remains;

Unseen whispers left outwardly unsaid.

~~~~~~~~~~

I ended up submitting this for English homework first, despite free-handing it here yesterday on the CB without posting it. :/ 

P.S. Bella says dudum! I didn't realize captchae had heartbeats...