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Alexandra Armata Poem
There aren’t many people there for you,
Remember that.
You can be in a dry heaving heap on the floor and
Nobody
Will know.
Much less care.
Do you understand the dangers of knowledge?
Do not bring this pain into their lives,
They do not deserve this.
You do.
My soul is not bound to yours
You can have your life for as long as you dream
I will not pull you down with me
Just sit from the sidelines and appreciate you are not me
You are not breathing my air
You are not seeing through my eyes
You do not feel from my hands
You are not me.
Appreciate your life and your mind and I will
Appreciate the way I am
Still breathing
Still feeling
The blood in my veins is still
Flowing through the course of
My body.
I love you
And maybe you will be able to reciprocate
But for now I am content with your
Attention.
Love is unnecessary when I see your
Beautiful
Blue eyes
Through mine
Thank you
Thank you
Copyright © Alexandra Armata | Year Posted 2015
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Alexandra Armata Poem
I see the tall, long, skinny legs and the
floor-length blonde hair.
The turquoise-blue eyes,
Almost crystalizing for my jealousy;
Maybe I do.
I see cuddles and
I see love.
I see endearment and
I see faith in one another.
Or I don’t.
I see ideas of two people coming together as
One.
But I do not feel it.
I see the parent and the child,
But I do not feel it.
I see the acceptance of one person’s skin from another’s,
But I do not feel it.
I see calming words spoken from a friend to a lover,
But I do not feel it.
I see the gratitude behind an accepted peace offering;
I see freshly cut grass;
I see recently painted white walls;
I see new cars, a new house;
I see the adults speaking with a mutual respect to the wild teen;
But I do not feel it.
I feel,
But this I do not.
Copyright © Alexandra Armata | Year Posted 2015
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Alexandra Armata Poem
This is a spoken word poem xx
It started off not being able to breathe. Sitting on your bed, gripping your thighs to remind yourself that a part of being alive is to keep yourself alive.
Then came the thoughts, the ideas. The suffocating emotions of whether I loved to live for me or loved to live for the pain.
I didn’t want to go to school; I didn’t want to be home. I didn’t want to go out but then didn’t want to return to the dark that was my bedroom.
I was drowning and I didn’t know if I cared enough to swim anymore.
But I could smile. I think people like smiles. An indication that everything is okay and there is no need to worry; a common mistake. Not the case.
I still see myself as 14. It’s weird. I’m still that girl sitting on the shower floor, drawing on her arm. Paint flowing as an interesting deep shade of red. Lines that appear foreign to the average human.
Now I’m a bit older but I’m still stuck in the same body. My brain is still my brain. My heart is still my heart. My soul is still my soul. Weathered and grey. Holding itself up by a single walking stick. Wondering how it’s still alive at this age. Wondering how a soul like that is in such a young girl. How has she become this way?
But I’m still me.
I still can’t breathe.
I still have the thoughts; still have the ideas.
I still no longer want to be anywhere. I suppose that’s why eternal darkness seems so fitting. You are never anywhere but you are always somewhere.
I’m drowning and I don’t know if I want to swim anymore.
Copyright © Alexandra Armata | Year Posted 2015
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Alexandra Armata Poem
There is no comfort in of old friends.
People who know every inch of you;
Every second of your day spent in their pockets,
Their minds wandering into your soul as if they are
Entitled.
A constant painful reminder
That you were different.
You once were another person,
Maybe you have grown, but
Maybe you have changed.
No comfort.
As it is terrifying,
Haunting,
Nightmares,
Nothing less than terrifying in the middle of the night waking up in a
Cold sweat.
No comfort.
Only the free bird can soar
Finding beauty in the pounding flaps of their feathery wings
‘How amazing’ you will say
Completely and utterly
Envious
Of this bird, bird, that has soared farther away than you could manage.
Is it beauty?
Freedom?
‘How wonderful’.
But you are a brick wall.
You are neither beautiful nor mysterious,
You are neither free nor wonderful,
Certainly not amazing -
To say the least.
You are a brick wall that sees nothing but the past,
Never the present,
And rarely the future.
Standing still and strong,
Yet constantly wondering which feather will break the camel’s back.
Beg for an escape
Deserving a release
There is no empathy left in this world
Full of tigers and zebras.
No chance.
Fall to your knees and accept your fate
Your last words will come out as a painful cry but
Will fail to project.
See them circling up above
You see them in your dreams
First, they are beautiful soaring ahead,
Then they are dark and vicious.
You know what happens next.
Is it over?
Are you here for good now,
Or are you finally able to escape?
Tell me when it’s over
So I can crawl out of your pocket and back to
The streets
Comforting
And suffocating
But old friends are here
And it’s fine once again.
Copyright © Alexandra Armata | Year Posted 2015
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