I wish I was a sponge,
A happy one to be exact.
I would soak up positive vibes,
leaving the sad ones behind.
I wish I was a sponge,
Happiness, it would attract.
I wouldn’t be copying scribes,
The true me, I would find.
I wish I was a sponge,
But I’m not, and that’s a fact.
I would start my own tribe,
Having those with cheerful minds.
I’ve filled my glass with sadness,
That black, sticky, sooty goo.
I’ve filled my glass with stubbornness,
That bull that keeps on raging.
I’ve filled my glass with fury.
Those red, hot coals burning all of me.
I’ve filled my glass with futility.
That troubled face looks sullenly at me.
I’ve filled my glass with irritation,
That poking adds to the fire too.
I’ve filled my glass with hesitation,
That monster which keeps on hiding.
I’ve filled my glass with anxiety,
That wheel that keeps tripping me.
I’ve filled my glass with nobody,
That empty space reserved only for me.
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Hello Everyone! I’m back from my hiatus. This poem was written two months ago, hence aptly titled The Old Glass.
What do you think of this poem? Do comment!
A smooth,
Untouched,
Piece of paper.
Is transformed
Into something
Extraordinary.
When, it is
Folded.
The paper plane,
Flies to the
Skies.
Carelessly
Happy.
Carelessly
Free.
The wind,
The cruel wind,
Tries to
Break it apart.
Beat it down.
But, it sings merrily,
Goes on its way.
It perseveres.
Hoping to be real.
Hoping to be divine.
It carries on,
In tune with gravity.
And love,
And harmony.
I can’t sleep.
My mind won’t let me.
It’s scattered with too many thoughts.
Both happy and scary.
It’s scattered with too many feelings.
Both alone and lonely.
It’s scattered with too many dreams.
Both enticing and dreary.
It’s scattered with too many ideas.
Both stupid and extraordinary.
I can’t sleep.
My mind won’t let me.
It’s full of thoughts.
Buzzing. Electrifying.
I can’t sleep.
My mind won’t let me.
My thoughts are twisted knots.
Pulling. Tangling.
________________________________________
This is what happens when you have too many video ideas! And my next post is gonna be a Q & A! So do leave some questions in the comments!
Lemme tell you a little something,
About this thing called happiness.
It feels unimaginably amazing.
It makes your heart and soul sing,
And cleans all your mess.
It feels infinitely confining.
But if ya base it off the inconsequential,
It’ll leave a deep, sad stain on you,
And lessen your extraordinary potential.
You gotta figure out what’s essential,
Make time for the prettiest hues,
And stop thinking of the existential.
I know it’s not that easy.
They kinda gnaw at you don’t they?
The scars, the constant reminder.
They’re just so addictively queasy.
Your poking leaves them on display.
And your thoughts simply concur.
You just have to stop thinking.
Your thoughts must be prettily dressed.
And so, you’ll finally end your suffering.
They envelop you,
The processed tree barks.
They enrich you,
With knowledge so divine,
So pure, so enrapturing.
They touch you,
With their beautiful words,
So heart-rendering, so anguishing.
They love you,
They remind you of your beauty.
But, they also break hearts frequently.
They annoy you,
Their qualities render you speechless,
They haunt you. They creep you out.
They purify you,
Of all your ignorance.
All your stupidity. All your helplessness.
They stay with you,
Long after they cease to exist.
But let’s be honest,
They never stop existing.
They’re immortal.
Immortally captivating.
Immortally engaging.
Immortally inviting.
Immortally alluring.
Immortally immortal.
I yearn to
Be with those,
Who don’t yearn,
To be with me.
I care too much
About them,
But they couldn’t,
Careless about me.
I seek their unneeded
And unnecessary validation,
Only to realise that,
They will never validate me.
I get so mesmerised,
By their beauty,
Their abundant charm,
That I forget their true inner being.
It would be really nice,
That once in a while,
I would find someone,
Who would yearn to be with me,
Without driving me crazy.
I seem to be made of glass,
Broken easily.
I seem to be made of paper,
Crumpled easily.
I seem to be made of fire,
Burned easily.
I seem to be made of ice,
Cooled easily.
I seem to be made of blue,
Saddened easily.
I seem to be made of red,
Laughing easily.
I seem to be made of tears,
Crying easily.
I seem to be made of smiles,
Broadened easily.
I seem to be made of pain,
Hurt easily.
I seem to be made of strength,
Endeavouring easily.
I seem to be made of hate,
Consuming easily.
I seem to be made of love,
Giving easily.
I come back home disgruntled,
I come back crushed and crumpled.
I stress over homework and panic.
In go my earphones calming my manic.
In flows the music calming, soothing
In goes happiness, me, myself losing.
The music flows through me,
The beautiful, energising symphony.
The calm fights the interrupting noise.
Everything is swallowed by the voice.
Everything is better because of them,
Everything they improve, those gems.
They have the power to raise,
They give love that boasts of praise.
They take away my frustrated tears,
And give courage to fight my fears.
And the music enwraps my heart.
And it sticks together the broken parts.
All of them are a lyrical masterpiece.
All of them put my mind to peace.
All of them wipe away my sadness,
Only to replace it with gladness.
Isn’t it just fun!
To make fun of someone!
To treat someone as if they’re inferior!
Just so YOU could feel superior!
How fun that is!
To call someone ‘that’ or ‘this!’
And the funny things is that,
YOU don’t even know tit from tat!
Isn’t it just fun!
Don’t YOU feel like you’ve won?!
Now that someone has lost!
No lines by you have been crossed!
Keep up the good work!
YOU have been the perfect jerk!
In the shadows YOU creepily murk.
While I stand here with a smirk!
________________________________________Very recently, I’ve acquired a TON of haters in my life, no, not on the blogosphere, but in real life. And I just don’t understand what I’ve done to offend anyone, but hey, as they say, “Haters gonna Hate, Potatoes gonna Potate.”
Since the majority of the people I spend my time with are kinda meh, I would love to make some new friends!
Do mail me at ramexa8@gmail.com!
Ramexabella 