Poems c:
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 26, '16 3:54am
Thread Topic: Poems c:
-
sylfae NoviceAlways #ProudToBe
I am me.
I know myself better than NASA knows how to build a rocket ship.
I know my thoughts, my actions - who I love and who I am.
And yet, people insist that they know me better.
I love who I love and thats okay.
And yet, some disagree.
Some will pounce on people like me,
Some will kill people like me.
All to the point where I feel as if I no longer live in the land of the free because
If this were truly the land of the free
I wouldnt have to sit at the dinner table and deny my identity.
I wouldnt have to hide my favorite shirt in fear of being invalidated,
All because I love someone who identifies the same as
Me.
And dont forget that I know me and people still try to insist otherwise;
They say I havent found the right one yet,
Or that itll change when I get older.
But you see they dont see the real me -
They see a phantom of who they want me to be.
They dont see me.
And yet they kill me.
They push me down -
They push us all down,
Even online in the comments section of a video meant to honour us;
It says that were proud to be.
It shows us our friends, our family; people like us.
It spreads our voice and appreciates us in a world where there have been
49 killed and 53 injured -
All because of their sexuality.
I see that video and click it as fast as I can because all I can think is
Finally.
I whisper it softly and with eyes glued to the screen I watch;
There are people like me.
But once the videos over I scroll down to the comments below to post one of my own -
And stop.
In my line of vision is hate amoung piles of hate and bigotry that I
Quite frankly wasnt expecting but expected at the very same time.
My hands descend from the keys and I read;
#homocaust
Do they really not want me to be me?
I scroll down further in hopes of finding a solace
And I find none.
I find nothing but more hate on top of more bigotry.
I truly am not in the land of the free.
I tear up, close the tab, and sit in my room and ponder;
I thought it was finally okay to be me.
But I guess it isnt, because the next time I look at the video to write this very poem?
The comments section is closed.
And the likes to dislikes ratio is higher.
My fingers hit the keys again, and again as each word of this poem is typed
I continue to think:
I am proud to be.
I am proud to be me.
---
Revolution
When does the year truly begin?
Does it begin Janurary 1st?
The first day of the first month of the year?
Technically, I suppose it does.
But it also starts in winter,
The coldest season of the year,
Or in other places the warmest.
Does it really start at either of these times
Though?
Scientifically, yes.
The Earth revolves.
Scientifically.
But what about personally?
Spiritually? Truthfully?
From our own perspectives, when does a year start?
The year begins when the flowers - our thoughts -
Bloom.
The year begins when we open our minds and
See those flowers bloom.
The year doesnt begin from a set date because a year is a length in time
Thats however long it may be.
It may be relentlessly long,
Or it may be shockingly short.
Whos to say?
Well, honey,
Youre to say because you
Know you better than anyone else.
You know you,
And dont let anyone tear you away
Into a world of false statements,
A world of hate and lies because
You have your own Revolution,
You dont revolve on this planet like everyone else
And no one revolves just like you.
You are you
And that is true.
They are them -
Also the truth.
Dont let anyone lecture you on where to begin,
What to do,
What to think,
Or how to be you because
I said it before and Ill say it again
You have your own revolution,
Because you
Are you.
---
Eagle's Masquerade
America is called
The land of the free
But is it truly?
We hide behind our patriotism,
We masquerade our violence,
Because
This is America.
And thats all that needs to be said because
Yes, this is America.
Yes, this is that place.
But this place is not what you make it out to be
It is not the free place you say it is.
It is not the free place you think it is.
How can it be free
When 49 are killed and 53 are injured all because of their identity
And someone who couldnt bare the sight
Of anothers love?
How is this the land of the free when lives are taken and no one
Does a thing?
When theres an entire generation growing up on massacres,
Is this the land of the free?
Is it really? Because
If it were I wouldnt have to be afraid to go out at night
Alone.
If it were I wouldnt have to always worry about my little sister being home
Alone.
If this were the land of the free the word alone
Wouldnt be associated with
Danger
In the places were meant to be safe.
Schools.
Churches.
Our homes.
Being alone in these places
Young or old
Muscular or scrawny
Shouldnt make us scared.
Mothers and fathers shouldnt
Have to call their children
To make sure theyre alive.
Mothers and fathers shouldnt
Have to cry over their children's
Lost lives.
Mothers and fathers shouldnt
Have to explain to their youngest offspring
Why Big Brother will never come home.
Brothers and sisters,
Mothers and fathers,
Friends and family,
Should not be in danger.
Because of anothers
Dangerous ability. -
Did you actually write this?
Those are actually some pretty good poems. -
sylfae NoviceOf course I did xD Thank you~
This thread is locked, therefore no new posts can be made.
