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Literature Text
Today her parents ask how her day has been
By now the answer has been well rehearsed
She insists to them that everything is fine
But the reality is the reverse
In fact she’s the antonym of the word ‘fine’
Inadequate, unsatisfactory
This is due to her creatively cursed mind
Steeped in a world of such simplicity
Yesterday friends asked how she has been coping
Waiting for their turn to talk, do they care?
They just see a happy, contented princess
Not a pensive, vacant, glazed over stare
In fact she’s the opposite of contented
Restless and at war with reality
Battling feelings of alienation
From unsupportive friends and family
Tomorrow strangers will ask her what is wrong
But in white lies she has become well versed
Knowing that the tar black pit of torrid truth
Will not dilute and only make things worse
She’s living the antonym of the word ‘truth’
But her lies are not designed to betray
Just to cover the cracks and to smother those
Who aren’t part of her daily masquerade
By now the answer has been well rehearsed
She insists to them that everything is fine
But the reality is the reverse
In fact she’s the antonym of the word ‘fine’
Inadequate, unsatisfactory
This is due to her creatively cursed mind
Steeped in a world of such simplicity
Yesterday friends asked how she has been coping
Waiting for their turn to talk, do they care?
They just see a happy, contented princess
Not a pensive, vacant, glazed over stare
In fact she’s the opposite of contented
Restless and at war with reality
Battling feelings of alienation
From unsupportive friends and family
Tomorrow strangers will ask her what is wrong
But in white lies she has become well versed
Knowing that the tar black pit of torrid truth
Will not dilute and only make things worse
She’s living the antonym of the word ‘truth’
But her lies are not designed to betray
Just to cover the cracks and to smother those
Who aren’t part of her daily masquerade
Literature
The Real Writers
The Real Writers:
There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets,
Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort.
They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them,
Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified.
Posers...
What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies,
Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady.
So convinced are they, of their own aptitude;
They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego.
For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys,
He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses.
He is not the hipster debating ancient literature.
For he is a monst
Literature
On rainy days...
I look out the window and see the liquid drops
I hear the soothing sounds that calms my thoughts
It helps my feather heart to keep its strength
As long I keep my conscious clear my faith won’t go away
Because these are the days when I wonder the most
About my life choices and all I ever hope
The rain keeps my sanity from being overthrown
By anything troublesome and keep a peaceful tone
Literature
Lately...
Lately I've been thinking, if the steps
That I've taken were meaningful at all
I'm not sure if my conscience helps me anymore
Maybe faith is guiding me through this storm
My heart feels like it's being torn
By the one who I've cared about the most
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Thank you to my good friend Lena 
for inspiring me to write this with her wonderful gif [link]
Both her and Dzeni (who share the account together) are extremely talented, two of my favourite deviants and should definitely be checked out.
thank you
for inspiring me to write this with her wonderful gif [link]Both her and Dzeni (who share the account together) are extremely talented, two of my favourite deviants and should definitely be checked out.
thank you
© 2013 - 2024 CloudNumber8
Comments54
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I don't read poetry often... because in all honesty most of it doesn't connect with me at all. (either because it's too simplified or the message too abstract) But I will say this, your poetry is absolutely amazing. I've only just started reading through your gallery and have found several that I really felt a strong connection too.
This one in particular calls to me, as though it is a mirror of myself. Not once when I have turned to other people and received true understanding or aid, and yet everyone turns to me. After a point, as other deviants bellow have said, you simply stop trying to explain and internalize everything. You adopt a mask for everyone to see and try your hardest to keep the veneer from cracking. It becomes second nature, to the point where as an individual you fail to recognize your own feelings and needs. Everything is suppressed for years, for decades; until your mind and soul and personality snap, it feels as though you've been torn in two. Then even as this transpires your tendencies are hard to break. While you may feel like you are dead or dying, subjected to some cruel fate, your second nature is there... picking up the pieces and gluing them back onto the that mask.
In some ways it makes you strong: dependable for others, rational of mind, able to move on from difficult situations with no obvious effect. But many end up breaking completely and seeking death. So in all truth, while others claim to envy me, this is a fate I wish for no one; because one day it will consume everything.
On a slightly lighter note, when it comes to telling people that your fine, eventually your mind finds ways of telling people how you truly feel without uttering the actual words. For instance (using Aerosmith's definition) the word "fine" means "Fucked Up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional." But the person you are talking too will never know what you truly meant.
This one in particular calls to me, as though it is a mirror of myself. Not once when I have turned to other people and received true understanding or aid, and yet everyone turns to me. After a point, as other deviants bellow have said, you simply stop trying to explain and internalize everything. You adopt a mask for everyone to see and try your hardest to keep the veneer from cracking. It becomes second nature, to the point where as an individual you fail to recognize your own feelings and needs. Everything is suppressed for years, for decades; until your mind and soul and personality snap, it feels as though you've been torn in two. Then even as this transpires your tendencies are hard to break. While you may feel like you are dead or dying, subjected to some cruel fate, your second nature is there... picking up the pieces and gluing them back onto the that mask.
In some ways it makes you strong: dependable for others, rational of mind, able to move on from difficult situations with no obvious effect. But many end up breaking completely and seeking death. So in all truth, while others claim to envy me, this is a fate I wish for no one; because one day it will consume everything.
On a slightly lighter note, when it comes to telling people that your fine, eventually your mind finds ways of telling people how you truly feel without uttering the actual words. For instance (using Aerosmith's definition) the word "fine" means "Fucked Up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional." But the person you are talking too will never know what you truly meant.