the who of why

Yeah, it's just me, who am I kidding?

Why do I only feel pretty when I’m at home in bed?

Why do I only feel pretty when I’m at home in bed?

mocking bird

hush little baby don’t say a word

papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird

and maybe that little birdie won’t sing

and maybe there won’t be any diamond rings

maybe it’ll stare at you from the shelf

and maybe you’ll have nightmares with no one to help

but if you just hush now, and don’t say a word

maybe, just maybe, you won’t get hurt.

maybe, just maybe papa will care

maybe your mama will stroke your hair

maybe someone will buy you a ring

maybe you’ll have reasons to sing

but only, only, if you don’t say a word

then papa will buy you that mocking bird.

and that bird will cry in the middle of the night

and that bird wants to fly but your hands are too tight

there’s nowhere outside to build it a nest

nowhere inside for its small head to rest

but hush little darling, and don’t say a word

your papa will buy you a mocking bird.

you know when you’re crying?

and it’s like, shit, I mean, crap, I wasn’t going to do this

It’s not a big deal

but it is 

I’ll get over it

And you will

but right now it’s just this crushing disappointment

you didn’t expect to have

and the knowledge that you’ve failed again

and maybe it’s just who you are

because all your life

failure is the one constant.

(I was never talking to you

this was always about me, my dear)

I’m panicking and its not a good feeling—
I don’t think I’ll do very well at this university thing.

I’m up late and I want to talk to somebody who doesn’t know what a failure I am.

Someone just gave me these

Someone just gave me these

This is my house
I live here now
Strange words to think
Much less say out loud
Someone else’s home
Is now mine too
A new street and driveway
A new door and room
It’s my house now
In some small way
My own place to hide away
My own place to think out loud
My own place to quiet down
A whole new place
And just for me
So tell me
Why is it
I can’t sleep?

http://dagenn.tumblr.com/post/94961609708/you-told-me-about-a-place-you-wanna-build-a-place

seetheedge:

dagenn:

You told me about a place you wanna build

a place where people like us could live

a place with no broken windows and no locked doors

a place free from the lies and the horror

So where is this place, with curtains drawn?

where is this home, with roses by the door?

Where will you build it, in…

I found a corner

The Stone with two sides

Not rounded, or weathered

By wind, fear, and lies

I couldn’t shelter in it, there was no place to hide

But the corner lent peace, as I sped t’wards demise

I thought that all edges were hard

That a sharp line meant hurt, but surprised,

when I found this one corner I learned,

that freedom carries many a guise.

I thought to myself, here’s a good place to build

I’ll commit to the task, I’ll give it a try

No sooner had faith slipped out of my mouth

Than The Mortar-Stone grew, as if come alive.

No mortal could do what it did and survive,

A building rose up, and let loose a sigh

Of dismay that many would only pass by

And never enter the comfort he hid inside.

I found a corner,

On The Corner-Stone lying

Off the beaten track

Where came lonely and dying

 

I’m a man who can stand, with both hands in the air

Shouting and waving, till others will stare

So I can say

this is the truth in me

I found a corner

It’s right over there.

 

*Some corners face in, other’s face out.

Thanks, Jonathan. 

You told me about a place you wanna build

a place where people like us could live 

a place with no broken windows and no locked doors

a place free from the lies and the horror

So where is this place, with curtains drawn?

where is this home, with roses by the door?

Where will you build it, in what perfect place?

when all the world reeks with shame and disgrace

when no one man can stand to put his hand in the air

and say this is the truth of me, that I care.

If this earth had corners, maybe we could hide

if there was edges, maybe we could find a way to leave

a freedom and escape from this broken sphere that teems with the fears

of a thousand nightmares in any given minute

walking the streets and hunting the children.

So let me know

when you find a way out

or an edge, or a corner, a door that doesn’t lock.

Maybe we can build this place there. 

When I was 17, an older boy called me jailbait
It made me question what he was uncomfortable with,
since in 5 months time I won’t actually be
much different.
Is it an underdeveloped brain structures,
an inability to buy him cigarettes
Or the fact that he feels safer with the law
telling him he is not a rapist?

I am not too young for you
Because the law has put an arbitrary number
on when I have sprung free from adolescence
pierced nipples and tattoos do not put me on your level
you should feel weird talking about
your girlfriend who is still in high school
because this is a separate world than yours
I am debating over colleges and railing against capitalism
with a grasp on economics
I learned through the internet and one measly textbook
I am too young for you because you have felt and done things
I have only jotted down in journals,
as wishes, wanderlust, clips from tv shows
about people in their late 20s
people trying to get married, blackout drunk
have kids
I am still experimental,
mature or not, everything is constantly in flux

and to dress me up in a tight ribbon corset as
your perfect sexual fantasy
and tell me I am a tease or
sexually precocious
is revealing only of
the lens through which the predator
distances himself from his prey.

—Veronica S., why adultness is not an age (via somedayyouwillbelved)

This girl is amazing. I love her style and her message. I don’t usually repost or anything, but people, if you’re following me for my poetry, follow this girl. ❤️