My being cries out truth, only spoken in poetry.Website: www.childofwind.com
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I don't deserve you
You asked that I never lie to you—again. Never withhold truths no matter the mess they carry. You want me bare. Naked before you. Yet, I cannot. All I have ever known are layers and layers of filthy rags. I hold unto this lie, so tightly to my chest. Somehow believing it is the only thing keeping us together. I am unable to let it go. Unable to give it to you. I convince myself it is for…
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tired.
There’s nothing more you can do, darling. You gave it all. All you had. All you wanted. All you believed you could become. With a raging heart and sweaty palms, you embraced the storm. You let the waters cover you. You let the fires engulf you. You gave it all. And more. And more. Till you lost everything that could ever lead you back. And now it’s up to Him. He either saves you—or you…
#ALONE#BATTLES#BROKEN#DEPRESSION#DISCOURAGED#FORGOTTEN#HOPELESS#LIFE#LOST#PAIN#RESTLESS#SAD#SCARS#TRAUMA#TRUTH#WAY
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born to say goodbye.
I forget. I forget. Within the fleeting moments of deep connection. Within the serenity of touch, of companionship. I forget that forever does not exist. That our once tightly held hands will eventually slip into distance. My heart was never meant to kept. I forget, my darling, that I was born to say goodbye.
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blind.
I once believed, I could never see through the eyes of another. I’m blind. I’m blind? I never knew till you showed me new. Till you took my broken glass of messy truths and gave them a poetic justice I could never consider. Your poem of healing found in conversation. Found in your eyes. Found in the ways you see me. Found in my truths whispered through your lips.
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dead leaves.
Moments pass… Unexpectedly. Leaving no chance to really feel them. Understand them. —Is this my excuse? Or is this my curse? There’s no light here. No water. No air to breathe. No will to live. I am connected to existence. Yet somehow forgotten. Ignored. Part of a name. Yet somehow never spoken. Is this an eternity of searching for that which I’ll never find? I’ll never find. I’ll…
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Mother
Hi Mom. It’s been a while now. I’ve been stuck running. Unable to stop. Unable to look back and acknowledge the hole that exists without you. I remember your smell. Fresh. Exotic. Like aromatic leaves that subdued all senses. Wherever you were—you had to be felt. You had to be felt. You had to be felt. You were everything. Everything I realized I could never be. Yet somehow, I…
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want.
This is hard. This is hard. My being screams—This is not possible. How do I reach beneath painful clutter to find You? How do I let myself walk this path with You? How do I allow my words speak of You, when I swore to never speak of another? Your smell wraps around my fragile heart. Unrelenting. Demanding. I must remember your intimacy, which I reject. The intensity of your eyes…
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naked.
The faintest breeze is too much— Too much for fragile skin and shaking bones. Your words—despite whispers, reach me in violent screams. Your touch—though light kisses, leaves stinging burns. How can numb this? How can I take off these glass bricks that built my walls of now cracking safety? Without them I am naked: Crippled in shame. Unable to look at myself. Unable to look at…
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feels 0.01
“When searches for something you once craved and sought as good has only led to pain, trying to embrace its coming doesn’t feel anything feel like pleasure. It feels no different from razor cuts, thrumbing betrayals and broken dreams.” “But don’t let that stop you. You’ve bleed once before. At least now bleed for something more. For something you once thought life was lived for.”
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fractured...
There is so much to feel. So much to be felt by. So much to touch. Yet my skin only meets sharp edges. Bloodied fingers try to reach out but can never reach through. I am bound by fractures of my own reality— Truths that do not seem real anymore. My memories fade. In and out. Lies. Truth. Perceptions. Experiences. I am stuck in limbo unable to separate the imaginary. It’s all broken.…
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dying sparks...
Rhythm flows—its pitch unleashed—into places I didn’t know existed. Freedom. Wildness. Hope struggling against unrelenting layers of anxiety. This untamed ignition burns through my bones. Its promises are death. Its cost a firey hell to the love I refuse to reciprocate. What is this? Who are you? How dare you come into places that are mine alone? These walls are painted with my bleeding…
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this body.
Nothing. Nothing. That is all she feels as she gazes farther than her eyes can see. As she longs farther than her heart can beat. For once she understands that her knees had to bleed from cuts that once were her truths. Now she realizes that the brokenness was key—a simmering anger she needed to speak. To fight. To make sure no one else ever felt what she had to feel. She spent her…
#ABUSE#BATTLES#DEPRESSION#FREEDOM#GRACE#HEALING#HOPE#HUMANITY#IDENTITY#LIFE#LOST#LOVE#MEANING#PAIN#RESTLESS#RESURRECTION#SCARS#SELF#STRUGGLE#SURVIVAL#TRAUMA#TRUTH#VICTORY#WAY
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When is it enough?
When is the gasping and frailing enough? When is my obligation of anguish fulfilled? Is my only acceptable payment death? I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. Eyes burning. Heart weeping. Fingers bleeding. Stuck in paradox of suffering: Surrounded by mountains unmoving. Yet I cannot submit: Who am I otherwise? Is my unwillingness the curse that keeps me stuck?
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just one more...
Thud. Thud. Thud. The unending drizzle sent shivers down her spine. Its sound—so insignificant, yet its repetition—distorting. A mock reminder of the parts of herself she underestimated: The parts of herself that now imprison her. Thud. Thud. Thud. She could not silent the nightmares: Her failures a badge she could not remove. She sniffed. No tears. No emotions. Numbness offered false…
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I only go to the beach when I rains.
I only go to the beach when I rains. When skies are gloomiest, And waters voilent. In the midst of the insanity, I find my freedom. Alone. Wild. Forgotten. Untamed. The storm within me pales, when compared to nature and its ferocity.
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Restless Soul #3
Intimacy. It is something she has never really known. Yet she has craved it. Destroyed for it. Crawled through a pit for it: Convinced that it is critical to her identity. If they do not touch me, they cannot see me. If they cannot see me, I do not exist. The fleeting kisses. The empty whispers. The midnight conversations she never remembers. Over and over, she tries to fill with nothings…
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bruised.
She had only known battles and victories and a wildness that never let her be tamed. Yet now she ran, shivering in fear and shame, still unable to face the one thing she swore she would never again let prevail. How could one failure define her so much? How could one forgotten seed produce so much poisonous fruit? She could not remember who she was before it happened. Who she was the moment…
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