poetry account
hello all,
i have created a poetry account on instagram @paigeispoetry, feel free to follow (i follow other poets back!)
with my new account, i'm not sure how often i'll be writing on here anymore, as i will be focusing on developing a poetry collection instead. i hope we find each other's art again.
should i walk out the door like i did before?
sitting here and i just can't speak
these people don't know me
the way they all know each other
why do i even bother
being here right now?
let me be in the walls,
be in the halls
be in a place where they can't see me
be where they see me for me.
stand up and walk right out the door
be ignored as to not disrupt the lore
of the stories from their past
where they all grew up laughing
in their local stores.
i know nobody anymore
i moved when i could
and my friends just stood
as i walked out that door.
these people know everyone
they have met in their lives.
nobody from my hometown
even knows i'm alive.
A girl who lives in dreams.
You see, I could live in reality. Overwhelmed by the reminders of the people who left me, even when I feel I did nothing. Wondering about where they are now and if they think of me. Questioning if they're proud of me, if only they could see.
But I don't need that when I live in my dreams. The stories left unfinished are now sewn seams. I already know the endings and who I turn out to be with. I create whatever story I want, just to keep me from losing it.
So yes, I would rather be happy than to live in reality. It's the right thing to do, being a girl like me.
Normal People
I hope we are the normal people that they refer to. The ones who find each other no matter what. Throughout all of the life changes, preparing us for what's to come.
To love. Like we could've. But it wasn't the time then.
I hope the time is approaching, as I need you more than ever before. I beg that you still like me like you did back then. I couldn't bear the heartbreak I would feel if you got up and left. After countless nights of crying for you, pleading with the angels to bring you back to me. Please, stay. So I can too.
Cherry Angeline.
cherry angeline, you run wild and free
you are not scared of what may be
of your life while you are growing up
because there is no reason for you to be stuck
dwelling on what you cannot control.
cherry angeline, don't look back
wishing to have kept all intact
or too far ahead at the horizon in view,
but keep your eyes up off your shoes
to stay in touch with your soul.
cherry angeline, you are all i want to be,
escaped the boundaries, full of glee
so, whenever you feel unlike yourself,
just come to me and i will help
you find yourself, the ultimate goal.
I long for the final goodbye.
I have come to the realization that anxiety controls my life. I try to tell it to let me have control for once, but it never listens. I just want to be able to wake up one morning to my stomach not aching from worry. To go to bed without having trouble breathing. Why must it do this to me? I am a good person; I think I deserve better. Each time I think it's gone, it comes right back to say hi again. I wish it would say it's final goodbye, but it's the only thing guaranteed to be with me for the rest of my living days.
Feel your own feelings, not mine.
Don't say you relate to me. You simply cannot. You have not lived my life experiences. You cannot know exactly how I feel.
If you say you understand, that I will accept. You can comprehend my feelings, but you don't relate to them. You don't relate because you can't feel them. You cannot feel my feelings. The feelings that are uniquely mine. You have your own, why don't you feel those?
So no more saying you relate to me, you just understand me as much as you possibly can.
Belonging.
Do I belong here? The answer is unknown. I don't write like others. I feel messy and meek. Is this good enough? If not for you, at least for me? Will anyone accept my thoughts? Is this even poetry? I just write what I feel and try not to judge. I know it is right when my gut approves. From the gut up to the heart. A connection of intuition telling me that I embrace what I think. And what I say. And the words I use to make sense of it all. It feels good, then I cry. Cry from the fulfilled understanding that brings silence to my brain. Once it is out, it is gone. I feel peace, and I feel good. Finally.
I belong here because I think.