Hello shadow, I greet you like an old friend, like a forgotten diary under my bed that no longer resembles me. It is not you that haunts me, not you who makes me empty. I have blamed you for far too long only to realize I should learn from you.
Hello shadow, I bring your lover- the murky museum of memories, to make sure you can hide your fears, to make sure you can wipe your invisible tears. I have put you on trial for what feels like thousands of years only to realize you are merely a reflection of me.
~Your shadow, the past self
Hello shadow, I bring your lover- the murky museum of memories, to make sure you can hide your fears, to make sure you can wipe your invisible tears. I have put you on trial for what feels like thousands of years only to realize you are merely a reflection of me.
~Your shadow, the past self
β€5
I get mad at myself. I hide what I really feel so no one gets upset. I stay up too late, thinking about what I should have said. I love people so hard it scares them away.
I want you to know me without me having to explain. I stay quiet and hope you understand. And when you don't, I feel sad. I feel sad at you, and sad at me for hoping.
I tell myself I will forget you. But I keep you safe in my heart, like a secret. I say I'm done, but I whisper your name in my head again and again.
I test you. I don't think you will hurt me. I think I am bad at knowing who to trust. I watch for small things. I see if you remember what makes me sad, or what makes me laugh. I check to see if you are as good as I hope you are.
I get mad at the walls I build. I get mad that I'd rather be alone than feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I say "it's okay" too fast, and then I stay hurt for a long time. I say sorry before I mean it, just so you might stay.
I am ashamed that I want someone to save me. I am ashamed to ask for help. I want someone to be loyal, but I feel like I don't deserve it. I am jealous of people who don't worry so much. But I am still trying to be kind to the part of me that hopes.
I feel alone, even with friends all around me. I feel like I'm floating, not quite touching anyone. I will test you until I know you are solid, like the ground. Until my shaky heart learns to be still with you. I might hurt you by accident, because being scared makes me clumsy.
But : Under all the worry and the fear, under all my mistakes, there is a softer part of me. That's the real me I go back to when I'm brave. It is made of truth, and quiet sorrys, and a hurt that just wants to be seen.
If you are patient, you will see that real me. You'll see it in the way I look at an old picture and smile. I am a mess. I am scared. I am learning to be my own friend. And if you stay, I will test you less. Not because I forgot how to be afraid, but because you staying will teach me how to be safe.
I want you to know me without me having to explain. I stay quiet and hope you understand. And when you don't, I feel sad. I feel sad at you, and sad at me for hoping.
I tell myself I will forget you. But I keep you safe in my heart, like a secret. I say I'm done, but I whisper your name in my head again and again.
I test you. I don't think you will hurt me. I think I am bad at knowing who to trust. I watch for small things. I see if you remember what makes me sad, or what makes me laugh. I check to see if you are as good as I hope you are.
I get mad at the walls I build. I get mad that I'd rather be alone than feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I say "it's okay" too fast, and then I stay hurt for a long time. I say sorry before I mean it, just so you might stay.
I am ashamed that I want someone to save me. I am ashamed to ask for help. I want someone to be loyal, but I feel like I don't deserve it. I am jealous of people who don't worry so much. But I am still trying to be kind to the part of me that hopes.
I feel alone, even with friends all around me. I feel like I'm floating, not quite touching anyone. I will test you until I know you are solid, like the ground. Until my shaky heart learns to be still with you. I might hurt you by accident, because being scared makes me clumsy.
But : Under all the worry and the fear, under all my mistakes, there is a softer part of me. That's the real me I go back to when I'm brave. It is made of truth, and quiet sorrys, and a hurt that just wants to be seen.
If you are patient, you will see that real me. You'll see it in the way I look at an old picture and smile. I am a mess. I am scared. I am learning to be my own friend. And if you stay, I will test you less. Not because I forgot how to be afraid, but because you staying will teach me how to be safe.
β€8
Those who rush to answers are the ones who never find it. And I have no idea why. It is almost as if the answers are given to us to ease our restlessness and not make us change things that would change the answers.
Justice was blind in your hands, you thrilled to the tilt of her scale and not suffer for the consequences. You bound her eyes with your own commands, then struck akin to a lost villain. Your blows fell thrice, each sharper than last, a sadist who savored the sound and I, debating the blast stood silent while guilt circled round. I don't know whether to execute you when she is not looking or make you pay by blood, loud enough for her to hear.
Justice was crippled within your care, her spine too bowed to defend. You carved at her knees in the public square, and called her your means to an end. You stole the balance she struggled to bear, twisted her virtue to bend should I expose what we both, her and I now share or raise her again to contend?
For you wounded not merely me, but the spirit she strove to be free.
Justice was crippled within your care, her spine too bowed to defend. You carved at her knees in the public square, and called her your means to an end. You stole the balance she struggled to bear, twisted her virtue to bend should I expose what we both, her and I now share or raise her again to contend?
For you wounded not merely me, but the spirit she strove to be free.
Forwarded from Elsewhereπ - Quotes, Poems, Thoughts (Uzezi)
Don't worship the sun, for she envies you,
Naked and alone in dark, cold mire.
Don't bow to trees, for they ache
To walk the clay and escape unholy fire.
Don't wish to be birds who have no roofs
Over their heads and search until they die.
Don't seek to be my bride,
Because my treasure never leaves my house
Don't ask for truth human,
When you love living a lie.
"Desire"
Uzithepoet
#poem
Naked and alone in dark, cold mire.
Don't bow to trees, for they ache
To walk the clay and escape unholy fire.
Don't wish to be birds who have no roofs
Over their heads and search until they die.
Don't seek to be my bride,
Because my treasure never leaves my house
Don't ask for truth human,
When you love living a lie.
"Desire"
Uzithepoet
#poem
β€3π₯1
The division within yourself is like ice and fire. Neither has the power to cancel out the other. The ice is too thick to melt, and the flames are too blue to die. They form constant scars all over your insides, one barely tending to the other as they rage on, locked in the walls of your soul. They refuse to coexist, so they agonize your survival as though you don't have enough to pray about.
~ What is balance but an illusion of a tired mind?
~ What is balance but an illusion of a tired mind?
π₯5
Librettos of Lily
Faouzia β Faouzia - Bad Dreams (Stripped)
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π6
To believe that strength lies in the destruction of darkness is to misunderstand both strength and darkness. Darkness cannot be defeated; it obeys the same laws as light. It exists, it recedes, it returns.
True strength is the mastery of oneβs boundariesβthe authority to decide when the inner shadows may speak and when they must fall silent. To command the darkness is not to deny it, but to recognize it as a guest whose presence is meaningful only in its proper season.
When a person reaches this state, they no longer live in fear of their own depths. They understand that peace is not the absence of shadow, but the discipline of knowing where to place it.
True strength is the mastery of oneβs boundariesβthe authority to decide when the inner shadows may speak and when they must fall silent. To command the darkness is not to deny it, but to recognize it as a guest whose presence is meaningful only in its proper season.
When a person reaches this state, they no longer live in fear of their own depths. They understand that peace is not the absence of shadow, but the discipline of knowing where to place it.
π6β€3π1