liberationthroughliteration

[liberationthroughliteration]

[liberationthroughliteration]

i am not joking we need to force teach cooking in schools. like. it is an essential thing for survival. do you know how easy it is to make things if you know even the bare bones shit about how cooking works. we need to teach teenagers how far you can take an onion and some other veggies it''s sad that people grow up not knowing how to prepare literally anything. and i'm not talking about oh this home ed class taught me how to make chicken nuggets at home i'm talking about learning the balancing of sweetness and acidity and saltiness and bitterness and shit like that and techniques and oil temperatures and how meats cook. it needs to be taught because it's literally not even that difficult and it matters so much

[liberationthroughliteration]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bd45_6ZFaWi/

[liberationthroughliteration]

Bloomed dandelions by hobopeeba

[liberationthroughliteration]

[liberationthroughliteration]

LADY VENGEANCE

[liberationthroughliteration]

Friday, November 8th, 2019 || 12:57am

peace.

And so he is gone

Passed from life into death

I don't not feel sad however

Nor am I happy

More like I am at peace because he is no longer suffering.

[liberationthroughliteration]

Friday, November 8th, 2019 || 12:56am

sunshine.

In a world of loud rain,

Be the quiet sunshine

[liberationthroughliteration]

Thursday, October 17th, 2019 || 1:14am

joke.

No

You're not funny

Your joke is not

And

Never

Will

Be

Funny

Because

To someone

That is their life

Something that has

Actually

Happened

To

Them

Rape

Is never a joke

And neither is

Death

Or

Fatphobia

Or

Mental illness

So

Tell me

How can you make that

Racist

Sexist

Ableist

LGBTphobic

"Joke"

How

Can you

Knowing that people have

Died at the

Expense

Of

Your

"Joke"

[liberationthroughliteration]

Thursday, August 15th, 2019 || 12:33am

holding on.

Would you think me pathetic for still crying over you?

Why can’t I let you go?

[liberationthroughliteration]

Thursday, August 8th, 2019 || 9:52pm

sad.

Isn't it sad that something so beautiful as poetry comes from the darkest parts of us, the terrible things that happen?

We often find ourselves unable to write poetry when we are happy, and I think that's really sad.

[liberationthroughliteration]

Thursday, July 25th, 2019

shower thoughts.

You said you want me to always like you, to always love you. I promised I would.

I asked you to never hurt me. You promised you wouldn't.

Don't you feel guilty? Because I kept my promise, but you didn't keep yours

[liberationthroughliteration]

Monday, January 29th, 2018

clean.

Every song you shared with me, I still listen to, they're all saved to my phone, in a special playlist made just for you, I'm okay with this, really I am, it a very clean ending, to what could have been...

~ to my unknown love, even though they know who they are, thank you for understanding my heart ♥️

[liberationthroughliteration]

Saturday, August 3rd, 2019

promises.

If you make a promise,

You should do everything in your power to keep it,

No matter what the promise is,

Because when you say things you don't mean,

I lose my trust in you,

I lose my respect for you.

And you lose me.

[liberationthroughliteration]

All your iridescence

Prismatic presence

Does not escape

My notice, I watch

In wonder your colors swirl

You are a work of art

Set to angel's song

[liberationthroughliteration]

Tuesday, July 9th, 2019

missing my muse.

Now that you are gone, I have no muse.

Is that why i hold on to you still?

To this heartbreak?

[liberationthroughliteration]

Saturday, May 18th, 2019

i am the ghost of my past.

Fights in the living room,

Screams in the kitchen,

I try to block out the noise and just play with my toys,

But mom’s cries become too loud as he hits her again.

Next thing I know,

Dad is gone (but they tell me he’s not my dad),

And mom introduces me to someone she says I should call dad,

I am confused, what is the truth?

Mom is getting married again,

This time, I take part as the flower girl,

She looks really happy and pretty,

Without all the bruises.

Mom says we’re moving,

To a place called Cheyenne,

I’ve never been outside of Pueblo,

And I’ll soon wish I never left.

I make new friends in this new place,

But sleepovers for a 6-year-old will never be the same,

Because one friend’s single dad,

Decided he couldn’t find someone his own age.

We move back to Colorado,

And I feel I am home,

When I see the mountains and breathe the air,

I think I can be happy here.

However, years pass,

And I become a ghost of myself,

People no longer see me,

I am invisible.

I try to cry for help,

But nothing claws its way out of my throat,

So instead I plead with my eyes,

Hoping someone will see and bring me back to life.

I realize as time goes on,

As I continue to haunt the shell of my body,

That I have killed myself by living in my past,

I need to let go to live again.

Fast forward 5 years,

And my mother is pregnant,

I am in the room,

To hear my only little brother’s first cry.

I hold him in my arms,

Afraid because he’s so fragile,

But for the first time I know with certainty,

That everything will be okay.