Poetry Shouldn’t Exist

It eats me up until i choke it out undeserving 

And leaves me always starving 

It haunts me until i try to make friends with the ghosts 

Just to find out that i’m the ghost most

It keeps me quiet and shy

Even though without friends i just want to die 

It leaves my head spinning 

So that i always feel like i’m falling

Or failing 

Or feeling

Poetry shouldnt exist 

I would rather be doing anything else 




In the last days I came to the point that my last hope was that my name would at least be branded next to yours

I didn’t care if it was a shell in the ocean that I had thrown

Or in photo with our names written in the back and still a little charred

Or in a book i tirelessly dedicated to you

Or if it was in stone at a simple little graveyard



She loved the beauty of the bright red roses so much that she cut herself on the rose thorns willingly while picking them.

Not knowing that she was killing them too.

Maybe she just wanted to look like them but her blood was the closest thing.

Or maybe she did know that she was killing them, and then thought that she owed it to them.

To take their life she had to give back some of hers.


(I do not own this photo)


We are all afraid that we are going to grow up to be like our mothers

To give into our manipulative ways, our fire stoked until all we can do is burst out our flaming color

Falling into the legacy, trapping us one after another

Until one day we realize that we tried so hard to not becomes our mothers

That we forgot all we needed to do for our daughter is love her



(I do not own these Photos)