Poetry

Hello, guys! I absolutely love poetry. If anyone wants to share their poetry here, please feel free to do so, I would love reading it! It can be ocd related or something else entirely! TW for the poem (I didn’t want to put a tw for the whole post bc it’s just the poem that may be triggering) 23 hours Of nails engrossed in mud That which is infused with feces And upon digesting mud One believes they mend it of its illness The dust causes them to choke 364 days Of drinking lead Begging their acid to rework it to gold 99 years Of collecting my blood Gulping it back into a body Returning it to some form Sand is sand Sugar is sugar Mixed, consumed, set alight, ground Alchemists burn away time Attempting to alter the fabric by which we live The only transformation they induce Is themselves to ash Lead is lead Gold is gold Water is water Lead is not wine My originals burn away their moments Trying to alter my fabric They are alchemist And they sicken themselves with my blood Maybe on the last hour, last day, last year, They may vomit back the lead Or die trying

sara.notsara

Date posted: 18h

OMG I FORGOT I MADE A POEM ABOUT YOU WHEN YOU DISCHARGED SHOULD I POST IT?

Onomatopoeia

Date posted: 15h

@sara.notsara Yes!

sara.notsara

Date posted: 15h

@Onomatopoeia wait it's really sad and kind of personal are you sure

Onomatopoeia

Date posted: 15h

@sara.notsara Sure, as long as there’s no info that people can identify me by, like address, last name, etc If you’re comfortable with it then I am

Onomatopoeia

Date posted: 15h

@Onomatopoeia If it is too many triggers I might not be able to see it tho, so if you post it and I don’t respond that’s probably why. It’ll just get taken down or smt

sara.notsara

Date posted: 15h

@Onomatopoeia i just posted it!! i loved your poem so much btw

Tea and Honey

Date posted: 22h

If By Rudyard Kipling If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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