Hollow

Hollow

This should make you happy but it doesn’t. 

Constantly competing with yourself trying to one-up your accomplishments.

You should feel excited but you don’t.

The emptiness a reminder that this simply isn’t enough. 

These accomplishments feel hollow like they should mean more but they don’t. 

Your sole focus seems to be on doing better, being better

But for what reason?

and at what cost?

The Truth

The Truth

I want to be seen really seen 

Not what my outward appearance portrays 

But what my soul screams and my mind imagines 

I tire sometimes of the facades and walls we have been taught to put up to protect ourselves 

The labels the world puts on us and are the hardest shirk off 

 

I want to be heard really heard 

Not what you want to hear but the truth my lips yearn to tell 

Not carefully constructed words but sincere thoughts 

Note to Self

Note to Self

I love your clumsiness that almost makes you a hazard to yourself. 

I love the way you have deep and meaningful conversations with yourself sometimes. 

And the way you stare at the mirror sometimes totally feeling yourself.

The way you feel so deeply and sincerely, forever striving to be a better you.

I love your ability to make a joke of yourself and laugh no matter the situation is. 

I love the way you are not afraid to learn and are open to painful critique. 

I love the woman your becoming and the dead skin your shedding. 

Most of all I love that you haven’t always been like this 

And the self-love your embracing every day has been a hard fight.

But you have been determined, consistent and persistent.

Flaws and all I love you.

 

Photo by Anna Sullivan on Unsplash

Out Of Body

Out Of Body

Out of Body

That’s how I feel when I hear you speak 

Words come out from your mouth 

Confident and sure

Like your telling a universal truth 

But this makes no sense 

This isn’t me so I scream 

The sound is guttural, animalistic almost 

But it’s my battle cry 

My rebellion against you

I’m done letting you control the narrative 

I write my own story and no one else has that power. 

 

Photo by Lê Tân on Unsplash

Life In Technicolour

Life In Technicolour

I dream of life in technicolour

Disco balls, sparkling lights, the music calls

Tight skirts, miniskirts, long legs

For you see I have accepted black and white for so long

A fate I couldn’t escape limited by my own judgmental self

No more of that because I dream of a life in technicolour

 

I dream of life in technicolour

When I no longer wait for an unknown Picasso

To colour me and make me a masterpiece

Instead I shall become the masterpiece myself

And live life in vivid brights and neon lights

I dream of a life in technicolour

 

 

The Beginning

The Beginning

This is a culmination of something that has been going on within me for about a year

But maybe forever

It is showcasing a voice that has always been whispering

And I guess I can’t contain it anymore

It is anything and everything

But it is mostly just me

It’s my views, my story and my convictions

This is the beginning