Crush my heart to pulp between your fingers; I’ll smile through the blood in my teeth and ask you to do it again, harder this time. I’ve realized it doesn’t matter if I make love to the wrong person with my words. The words don’t care. They want to be written either way. Either way, I’ll bleed. We’re all…
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Your Pain Wants Answers. Answer It.
I understand the thoughts you’ve had. If you’d been a certain way, maybe you’d have been loved. If you’d been smarter. Better. You’ll think others have it figured out and are more valuable, but it’s never been about them, and their own hidden worlds don’t indicate their worth any more than your own struggles mean you’re unworthy. I’m here…
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The Alone
The greatest gift I gave myself Is the pleasure of my own company To find in that calming, accepting presence, The grace to exist completely. – Sara Myriad, 2022
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Stripes
The way I see it, there are two types of people The first appreciates the tiger for what it is Rejoices when the animal is alive and fierce in its element, Respects and adores without confining The second wants that striped pelt for themselves Hunts, takes, proudly displays, Not caring the essence of what the tiger was, is lost…
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Slam Poem
I’ve tried to write Succinctly, brutally, Vitally, seductively, But apparently, “Poetry” simply means Writing Like This – Sara Myriad, 2020
