Poetry collection p.ii [persona edition]

Wanted to start a trend of writing poetry for november so yeah, poetry p.ii now with personas

 fraudulent accord

if I told you I did it for you, you’d call me a liar. but somehow self-gain makes sense. every word out of my mouth you sincerely tried to block out but suddenly when you try to speak, you expect Christmas to come early. You got this idea,

“It’s all garbage out of your mouth,”

but when it’s yours I guess it doesn’t count. because I lie far too much to ever tell a fib, and when you fib, I just nod my head and glue my lips to keep the bread split between us.

But I think I’m getting tired of that?

I know there’s only much stale bread to keep me sustained, because maybe being fed like a dog isn’t worth my dignity. I used to love this game of back and forth, but hell knows if it means anything, all I know is I’ve been chasing to catch up with it, but the game is faster than my shoes can go.

My soles have run themselves ragged in their effort to keep up, and my knees are starting to give, so maybe I’ll let you leave behind this time and lead whatever race you’re trying to run.


I never thought someone could recreate themself straight from the kiln. Clearly I was wrong.

What happened, I don’t know. I don’t know why this hurts.

You were born fire ash and smoke and I got used to the scent. You clawed your way here yourself, and somehow, we shared the same callouses. That was our normal. Through this, I always thought I had someone who I recognized, we were made of rock and steel, we were made from hell together. We both climbed and we both made it ourselves. I thought it was something I knew well but now something’s different, and it’s turning my insides out. You made it. Without me.

You’re smiling, and you’re laughing, you’re unrecognizable, and I know I should be happy, but I don’t know what I’m feeling.

You remade yourself. Built yourself from the ground up, you wield something once scarred like its molten iron straight from the furnace. And yet here I am, and I’m not. I’m still shackled to my arms and body in chains that I don’t know how to shake.

So I have to ask.

How did you do it?

holding your Breath

No one knows the feeling of breathing like I do

something locked up in your chest
lets itself go and you feel reality reconnect

you’d only been underwater for a few seconds,
you swear

It wasn’t that bad,
you didn’t even notice it.

You were only holding your breath a little bit
where your eyes started to spill themselves from your head
and reality turned to water and maybe you were drowning

but then you woke up.

so it’s not that bad, really. that’s just what breathing is.

One thought on “Poetry collection p.ii [persona edition]”

  1. Holy crap, the figurative language is absolutely phenomenal in this! So is the imagery and the spacing itself- everything was really enrapturing. Love these!

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