Silent Child

Silent Child · Sep 16, 2022

You sit there listening to, or perhaps reading, this poem
Where I speak tiny little words
And you think you know their meaning,
You think you know all meaning,
But you don’t.
And I don’t.
And then comes the question: who does?
The answer might shock you, the question isn’t real, it’s a trick
An illusion with an eye
To see how you might react
There is nothing here,
No society remains intact
Everything is false
There is no meaning

But you.
Everything is relative to you.
You, acting all important
And in your own head, you are.
You are in mine, too.
But that’s just because I can’t be me
Without first not being you.

Silent Child · Sep 15, 2022

I love you like I love my favorite book;
You make me happy,
And I’m a better person because I found you.
I know for a fact that the moment we part
The sky will rain, and flood the earth,
And never stop until the end of days.
The wind will howl
And earth would be engulfed
In a fit of emotions not fit for anyone
As pure as you or me.
The sky will sob because it lost a connection
It was never meant to.

eyclore · Sep 12, 2022

Orario

Silent Child · Sep 12, 2022

The world has no meaning outside of the fake societies we build up
To play pretend with consequences unreal
The world has no meaning if we don’t give it one
Consequences don’t matter if we can agree that the actions are fake
The world has no meaning if it’s cause doesn’t either
Situations only produce consequences when importance is places on them
The world has no meaning, none at all
We were indoctrinated as children to thinking that it does but that’s false
The world has no meaning other than a setting where
One plus one equals two; where I met you under the pale blue sky, in that garage by the old shipyard

Silent Child · Sep 12, 2022

I am content in the knowledge that I will never write anything
That amounts to something more than
A loose pile of metaphors and concepts
With no bearing on what we say is real.
What I truly lack is the words to say
“If I see you every day for the rest of my life
I love you
And if I don’t see you again until the day I die
I love you”
In any meaningful way
Riddled with subtlety,
Dressed up in beautiful skirts,
Completed with a set of complementary pleats.

Silent Child · Sep 9, 2022

Our friends will think we’re cool.
They’ll be right about you, of course,
But I’m different.
I don’t know why I’m afraid,
However, I still hide away my authenticity,
I know that they’ll still love me.
Something about saying
“I’ve been lying to you for a certain amount of time,”
That’s laced between my words
Ties a number of knots in my stomach.
No, I should use words less sharp and refined than stomach.
Tummy is it.
I am still a child, after all.
You are, too, love.

komi · Sep 9, 2022

Silent Child · Sep 5, 2022

What is poetry but a fancy way of saying
“I love you in a way we will only hope to describe”?
What is art but a fancy way of showing
“Your beauty is unparalleled, save for Aphrodite herself”?
I might be Achilles.
I might be Patroclus.
You will never know.

Silent Child · Sep 4, 2022

I guess I should touch on it here, in this foreword
Put forward, a jumble of sounds I think is pretty,
And hope you do too.
The theme of love and strife, then the connection and war between, was an allusion
To some Greek philosopher named Empedocles.
Something about the elements and their isolation and lack thereof.
Something only someone smarter would understand.
I am lying in the ditch, and you are too.
Only difference is that I’m looking at the stars,
And you’re listening to me describe them.

Silent Child · Aug 31, 2022

I doubt I will ever know
What people mean when they say
This world is kill, or be killed,
But I refuse to become a murder.
The thumping of the piano keys,
While I sit in the sun’s warmth,
Playing with my toys,
Feels like home,
And I think my legs have forgotten
The way to get back there.

Silent Child · Aug 30, 2022

Chaos followed by calm waters,
Serenity followed by shambles,
Writing followed by reading,
Poetry followed by art,
Love followed by strife,
Connection followed by war,
Me followed by you,
You followed by me,
A letter written to you,
A response composed by you,
A description of how important you happen to be,
I’ll let you in on a secret:
The human experience was supposed to be last.
A falsity was written first.
I was never supposed to be a poet.
But here we are, I suppose.

Silent Child · Aug 29, 2022

The most beautiful parts of the human body
Are the collar bone, and shoulder blades.
The collar bone, the gate
To the garden we call a neck,
Decorated with roses where kisses should go,
And the shoulder blades, trimmed wings
Tied up in skin in a way that reminds us
That we are flightless angels, doomed to walk with our feet.
They are chains, to the ground, to love, to being human.
Or more importantly, to not being an angel.

Silent Child · Aug 26, 2022

Rewrite the story but once, only to fix typos, never ~~ideas~~.
What is the story?
Explain it to me once more please, no matter what you say, I just can’t wrap my head around it.
Is there something wrong with me?
I hope not, for both our sakes.

Silent Child · Aug 24, 2022

Here I am.
Do your worst.
Become everything evil.
Become the only good.
Become a Shakespeare or a failure.
Do your worst.
I’ll bear it.
Your destiny is in your hands, I put it there.

Silent Child · Aug 23, 2022

You’re grasping at straws;
I’m gasping for air.
We are the same
The only difference being
A face
And a name.

eyclore · Aug 23, 2022

New pfp! It’s so cuuutteee

Silent Child · Aug 22, 2022

The

older

I get,
The more I appreciate

music

I’m thankful to have something that can

drown

out
The

thoughts

in my head
On

command

eyclore · Aug 19, 2022

Silent Child · Aug 18, 2022

Darling, can’t you see?
The beauty in the mirror is your reflection.
It’s your own achievements,
It’s you.
If you don’t like it, then change it.
If you do like it, then why don’t you like yourself?
Stop looking down.
If you need somewhere to get lost,
My eyes are a good part to start.