Trapped

You broke her.

You trapped her.

She will never be the same.

 

Her spirit is gone

nought but a pretty thing

in a pretty cage now.

You have killed a beautiful thing.

trapped-1

How could you?

She was a fighter

a lover

a friend

a girl

who will now never get to discover the world.

 

You’re a thief

a trapper

of soul

spirit

beauty

and life.

 

There is nothing

more cruel

more evil

than that.

 

Why?

Why did you trap

such an innocent thing?

Love,

Ivy

Always

The sad thing about me

is that I’ll always be there.

 

Even if you ignore me,

I’ll be quietly by your side.

 

Even if you never love me back,

I’ll always be there

to answer your stupid questions.

 

And so,

sadly,

always

is my promise to you.

 

If only you could see – I love you – and you may never know. And me – the fool – will be there, saying nothing, watching you, helping you with your work – even if you love someone else, I will be there. And hate myself for it.

All the truth in my life in poetry,

Ivy

Some Amazing Poems by Evie

These are by my best friend Evie whose blog is linked and you should totally check it out because it’s amazing!

Thorns

you are my rose.

you hurt me every day

but I keep coming back

to admire your beauty.

 

Collision

I have seen love

it is like the sun and planets

colliding all at once.

Dangerous.

But you can’t help but to

stay and watch the beauty

if it all.

 

All The Things I Love Are Leaving

My mama found me crying,

tears streaming down my face.

She told me think about the things you love.

Let the good things fill your head and dry your tears.

But mama, all the things I love are leaving

and I cry harder.

 

You are amazing Evie don’t ever stop!!

Love,

Ivy

We Are Writers

We are writers.

We annoy people with our understanding of grammar and our unnaturally good spelling skills.

We know the definitions of random words.

We get our essays done in a day so we can keep writing our own works.

We speak like Shakespeare if we’re inspired or read too many old books.

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We are writers.

We don’t care if it’s always good – we’ll write anyway.

We don’t care about your opinion unless we ask you for it.

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We are writers.

We never stop getting our inspiration.

The world is a sensory overload that must be written down and described with all the adjectives in the dictionary to us.

If there’s a pen, a scrap of paper, or a laptop, we’re set for life.

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We are writers.

We pour our hearts, souls, thoughts, and inspiration into our writing.

And we revel in the magic of words.

 

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We are writers.

And we never stop.

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To all the writers out there – so pretty much all of you – this is for you. The code of a writer. What we live by. 🙂 😉

Love,

Ivy

P.S.- I know we don’t have perfect grammar and all, but a writer can dream, right? That’s what auto-correct is for! 😛

 

Trapped by Outside

I’ve been a bit off inspiration. Mostly because school is where I get most of my random inspiration from. There’s less random craziness at home. And, let’s be honest, my (stupid, stupid) crush inspires an unhealthy amount of poems. But this isn’t about my health! It’s about my poems! So here’s another one. Enjoy.

 

Trapped by Outside

 

There she is.

Smart.

All A’s.

Organized.

 

There she is.

Not beautiful, but pretty.

Not fat, no slim.

Strong and good at sports.

 

There she is,

on the outside.

On the inside,

sh – I’m drowning.

 

Help.

I have a battering ram

to break the spell,

but they don’t see the inside.

 

They don’t see

the stupid moments

the craziness

the tears

the inner struggle

the maelstrom hiding behind the veil.

 

I’m suffocating under expectations.

Let me out.

Into the fresh air.

Where I can be me.

Where I can breathe.

 

To the brave:

Venture past the outside.

And maybe you’ll fall in love

with the inside

too?

 

From a Trapped Girl

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-Ivy

A Sign

Is it a sign?

I see his name

everywhere I go.

 

His first

in two books

his last

in a TV show.

 

I think the universe

is trying to tell me something

though I know

it’s probably saying let him go.

 

If only he wasn’t

so

damn

oblivious.

Love,

Ivy

Quote(s) of the Day

*All these songs are from the Suicide Squad album*

 

“I saw you standing in the rain. You were holding his hand, and I’d never be the same.”

-Standing in the Rain by Action bronson, Mark Ronson, and Dan Auerbach

 

“No emotion, that’s what business is”

-Sucker For Pain by Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, and Imagine

 

“We don’t deal with outsiders very well. They say newcomers have a certain smell. Yeah, trust issues, not to mention they say they can smell your intentions.You’re lovin’ on the freak show sitting next to you.You’ll have some weird people sitting next to you. You’ll think: how did I get here, sitting next to you?”

-Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

 

Yes. I’m alive, everyone. Just kidding. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve been on here. But I’m back, and hopefully will be blogging steadily from this point on. I finally opened my laptop today and I felt like a champion. I’m trying to beat laziness back enough to do homework.

Wish me luck,

Ivy

Hello

An update on my life.

I have a bunch of poems written I just have to find pictures for them. I’m sorry for being so inactive but it’s Christmas break and I finally have time to be lazy. My blog is suffering for it, unfortunately.

I’ve had this really nice little notebook for maybe two years now. It’s really pretty- a couple shades of blue and ‘Love wildly live simply always be yourself’ is written on the cover in various fonts. Anyway, since it’s so nice, I’ve absolutely no idea what to put in it. I’d always think of something, then say “that’s not good enough for such a nice notebook”. Does anyone else do this?

So, the point is, I got over my what-to-write-in-this-notebook phobia and decided to write poems in it when I can’t access WordPress or have an idea and need to write it down before I forget.

In a way, this’ll improve my blog because I won’t forget poems like I do sometimes. So, looking forward to it.

This feels weird because my blog isn’t supposed to be about my life but about poetry. I need somewhere to talk, however, so here we are.

Hope you enjoy,

Merry Christmas Eve,

Ivy