Currently playing: きどりっこ - 浮世の恋 (Kidorikko - Ukiyo No Koi)


I quite enjoy writing poems in my free time. i like experimenting with metaphors and repeating phrases in my poems, and i like writing about sad things that are disguised as happy, cute things. im not very good at it, though, but its still very fun! so, after a few months of putting it off, i decided to revamp my poems page. even if they're bad, i hope you enjoy!

My Magic Wand
My Chamber, My Hour Of Shame, The Glorious Gods
A Wind Chime Calls
Your Cries
Powering Down
Quiet Girl

My Magic Wand

I was in my pink dress,
Holding my magic wand,
And I approached someone.

They didn’t look like it,
But I knew they needed the joy I could give them.
They had a wish.

I lifted my wand,
And in one magical swipe,
Their wish was granted,
And they finally became happy.

I was turning every person I met into a creature of pure happiness.
Their smiles,
Their arms,
Like wings,
Before wrapping some lucky person in their warm embrace.

I gave them everything they wanted.
An escape from a stressful life? Sure!
Warmth, food, clothes? Absolutely!
To see someone special? Maybe even someone who had passed away? If they were good enough!
Money? Well, perhaps not…
Oh, of course!

Every step of the process was delightful.
My wand at the ready,
Polished like a glorious sword,
Primed to grant any wish.

I ask.
They tell.
And their wish is my command.
It hurts for only a second,
But now they live in total bliss.

I speak to them all,
Every single day.
Some of them want to go back.

“Why is that?” I ask.
“I want to see my family again.”
“I regret wishing for something so selfish.”
“I cry every night knowing how much harm I caused.”
“My friends desperately need me.”

But I knew how they really felt.
I was helping them all,
Helping them reach the happiness,
The sheer joy millions of miles above their heads.
They had ascended to true euphoria.
And soon,
More and more people would join them,

Even if scrubbing the bloodstains out of my pink dress is getting difficult.

My Chamber, My Hour Of Shame, The Glorious Gods

Ironclad rabbit.
Scales of fine metals.
Impenetrable curtains,
Of which look fabric,
But are really of raw silver and old magic,
That keep me inside my chamber.

Like the apple core,
Stuck to my carpet below the small end table,
Covered in mould,
I too shall decompose in a corner,
Where nobody shall gaze upon me in my hour of shame.

My entire life was of playing with the animals,
Who frolic deep in the forest,
And glancing up at the winged creatures above.
Are they graceful birds,
Or white bats,
Or dinosaurs,
Or are they angels,
The ones that keep me inside my chamber,
Until the midst of dawn,
When I shall trigger the cycle of the suns once more.

The thoughts that are not mine belong to the Gods.
The Gods have spoken to me in my hour of shame.

I entered the moss-covered stone fortress,
As a youthful flame of vigour and yet sluggishness,
Clocks ticking, trying to imitate nature,
Climbing the blazing staircase,
Like the glorious Gods told me to.
The pain in my bare feet is unmeasurable,
A mermaid covered in golden armour,
A wizard holding a pair of binoculars,
An orchestra of cicadas outside my bedroom window,
But I continue,
As the Gods will expect more of me the longer I go on,
And I must fulfil their requests with urgency and spirit of which they have never seen with their sapphire-tinted eyes.

After-dinner mints and jacket buttons,
A rugby ball split in two,
I see the door,
Covered in a tapestry depicting three crimson suns becoming one,
A large doorknob made of brass,
Moulded to look like a human face,
Mosaic shards lining the edges,
Creating a display of colour,
Chaotic human nature and thought,
But in a cohesive, calming way,
As if the very fabric making up reality,
Unravelling a little each moment that passes,
Is of the softest texture and material imaginable.
Undergoing a panic attack with relaxing music in the background.

I dare touch the looming beast before me,
My eyes staring up into its,
Yet the most knowledgeable of all,
A cricket bat covered in chocolate icing,
That of which I want to listen to 80’s synth pop music,
Gnawing through a piece of tree bark, my gums full of splinters.

I enter.
It has taken my entire confused,
Mind, soul, body,
All of its pathetic yet strong willpower,
To enter my chamber,
And feast upon the pitiful scraps left in the corner,
By the glorious Gods,
The things that I kept to myself,
In darkness below my desk sits my journal,
In my hour of shame.

A Wind Chime Calls

Dreams of regret,
Of loss,
Of hurt,
But also dreams of joy,
Of being free,
Of loving,
And soon I wake up with a smile.

The gossamer barrier that separates dreams from reality,
I peer through it,
Wearing special silver spectacles,
And see the afterimage,
Of the person I used to be.

I linger,
Standing motionless in my old bedroom,
Taking everything in.

A wind chime calls,
From my back door.
It sounds like a choir,
One of lovely voices,
Calling my name.

It’s time for me to go outside once more,
To check on my vegetable garden,
To feed the birds,
To trim the flowers,
And to rake the fallen leaves into a pile,
Before I must go to work.

Your Cries

The day you were floating through the abyss,
Surrounded by melancholy mirages,
You screamed out into the void,
Searching for something,
That would reassure you that what you were about to say was correct,
That what you were about to say would be met with mutual feelings,
Or that anyone would understand the words you spoke at all.

And after aeons of nothing,
You finally got your answer.
“Yes.” simply said the dark creatures that resided in the nothingness,
That you too had spent your entire life in.
The ceiling was then ripped open,
By dark, clawed hands,
Revealing the evening sky.
It was still dark,
But speckles of sunlight fell to the ground,
Through a gap in the clouds.
You reached out and widened the gap,
Pushing the clouds to the ground with your bare hands,
Stepping into the bright place,
Where you knew things could go dark again if either of us said the wrong thing.

You called out to me,
In a sea of rolling clouds,
Trying to keep yourself afloat in desperation.
Your voice echoed off of nonexistent walls,
Your cries both mournful and hopeful,
Swirling around and around, trying to reach me.
You didn’t know whether I would hear you,
Or understand what you were going through,
Or upright reject everything you said,
But you said it anyway,
And I rejected it.

I suppose that is why you don’t enter the bright place anymore,
Why you don’t come visit me more often,
Why I lost something so important to me.
I keep telling myself that it’s because the dark creatures tricked you,
But I just know that it was my fault,
And that your cries pierced a hole in my heart,
That will never be fixed,
Unless I tell you that you were correct.

But I’m not so sure that my life would be the same if I did.

Powering Down

The flickering cursor on my screen,
It’s refusing to move, but somehow it’s in two places at the same time.
Pixels disintegrating before my eyes,
Shades of blue and purple overlapping and curling.
A labyrinthine pathway from my files to my heart,
With tall metal walls, and floors covered in sheets of cardboard,
That stretches and bends into the horizon.

A dull pulse of light, from red to green to blue.
Is it my heart,
Or is it my computer screen?
There’s a swirling and morphing cable that injects the data into my mind.
The electronic ticking,
The glitching audio files,
The disk that plays your confession over and over in my mind.
It’s stuck on a specific phrase, skipping eternally,
So much so that the word “love” means nothing to me anymore.

My backlit eyes keep me awake at night.
The solitude of the darkness is bathed in a harsh sapphire,
And the longer I stay up, the brighter it gets.
Whenever I close my eyes, though, my eyelids are projected onto,
Displaying a message that would otherwise be lost to time.

“You can’t be awake all the time.”
“You can’t push yourself this much.”
“You need to recharge.”

But I need to send you one last message before I power down forever.

Quiet Girl

Girl ties her hair up with pink ribbons before going out.
Girl only talks in whispers.
Girl apologises to every ant she steps on.
Girl stares at herself in the mirror at night.
Girl runs through the rain without an umbrella.
Girl cares for injured birds that she finds outside.
Girl knows that an angel is watching over her.
Girl speaks to her dolls because she knows no one else.
Girl only treats people with kindness because she knows how it feels when others don’t.
Girl dreams of a prince who will take better care of her.
Girl feels trapped in her own body.
Girl makes friends with the worms she finds in her garden.
Girl believes that good things are coming her way.

I write poems pretty often, so there's much more to come!