Poetic - Blog Posts

Dear [Redacted],  

I honestly don’t know how to start this, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be quite long. Hope you don’t mind. 

Not a single day goes by that you don’t occupy my mind; thoughts of what we had and how if i’d done some things differently we might have had longer together. I genuinely believe that with you, it was the right person, wrong time, wrong place. In college I couldn’t love you the way you deserved, and now I can, but I spend most of my time on the other side of the country, and we barely talk. 

I constantly find myself daydreaming about getting you your favourite flowers, and holding your hand, and kissing you. God, how I wish I would’ve had the confidence to kiss you. I should’ve done it. I wanted to so badly. The day you lay in my arms and almost fell asleep as I was playing with your hair? I wish I’d tilted your head up and asked if I could kiss you. I wonder if things would be different if I’d have had the courage. 

Northampton has a performing arts degree. Well it’s called “Acting for stage and screen” but it’s basically performing arts. And there’s a theatre literally not even a five minute walk from my current accommodation. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve imagined you coming here and us being together and being able to pursue our dreams in the same space. Little coffee dates where I read novels and you memorise scripts. The sun shining through your hair in the spring and summer. Honestly you must be so so blessed by whatever almighty force there is to be so beautiful, and for that beauty to only be enhanced even more when you’re in the sun. 

It’s funny to think about how a few months ago I would have let you kill me. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean that if you had a knife in your hand, I’d bare my neck on instinct. I would sit obediently with your shotgun to my skull. I wouldn’t even bring up my hands to stop blows to my ribs. I would let you dismember me. Skin me alive. Bite until the skin tore. Touch me in my sleep. It makes me feel so meek but then I remember I love like a dog. Beautiful and wretched as that may be. 

And I did love you. I might still do. I tried to move on, but nothing’s felt the same since. It’s like as soon as we broke up, you took half of my soul with you, leaving what was left to wither up and die. A bit dramatic but it’s true. 

If you asked anything of me, I’d come running. I should’ve done that the entire time, but I didn’t. 

It’s been about a year and a half since we broke up. Your birthday isn’t in my calendar anymore. It feels like a piece of me is missing. 

That time in your living room at your birthday party when we held hands properly for the first time, with your arm wrapped around me and me leaning on your shoulder. As soon as your skin touched mine, I knew it was over for me. I was entirely yours. Now, I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I was your servant. If you starved I would’ve fed you, if you were sick I would’ve tended to you. I would have crawled at your feet. I would have, if I had been braver and loved you the way I wanted to. Before your love I was debased. For you alone I was, and am, weak. 

I never did tell you how proud I am of you. The night I got to see you on stage, I was utterly speechless. Perfect doesn’t even begin to describe how you were. As soon as you stepped on that stage, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, even if you weren’t the main person performing. And when you went off again all I could think of was when I would see you next. I should’ve held you afterwards, kissed the side of your head and told you how proud I am of you. You put in so much hard work for it, all while being sick and not knowing what was wrong, and you did incredibly. That whole night the only thing that was going through my head was how much I loved you. But I never told you.

Before the show started as well, when people were getting ready. I was talking to one of the then second years, and you came by, obviously distressed and anxious. I should’ve ended my conversation right then and gone to you, holding you and telling you that everything would be okay and that you would do amazing. But I didn’t. I just watched you out of the corner of my eyes. Even then I knew I was making the wrong decision. I still regret it.  

I dream about taking you on a picnic. A flower field or an apple orchard or a grassy meadow in summer. But I don’t know of any near either of us so I’ll have to stick to my imagination. No-one around so we can truly be ourselves, the sun shining on us as I fed you grapes. Or whatever your favourite fruit is. I’ve forgotten. The sun shining through your hair, making you glow. Your eyes bright with happiness. I think it would be perfect. I hope you would agree. 

Honestly I only want for one thing now, even though I know it’s probably impossible. 

I want you to want me as I want you. Desperately. I want to make you shiver from my touch. I want to hear your voice, breathless and shaky. I want you to say my name like a prayer. Full of devotion. I want to bind together our bodies, intertwine our bones. I want you to devour me. To watch you strip off all layers of my being and digest every single piece. 

But I ruined the chances of that happening too soon. 

If I’m ever brave enough to give you this and you do read it, I hope you don’t think I’m weird lol. I hope you realise that you still own half of my soul, and that there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about you and what we had, and how I should’ve treated you. I regret so much and I just wish I had a chance to love you the way you deserve and to show you how amazing you are. 

There’s so so so much more I want to say but I can’t find the words. 

You’ve always had that effect on me, making me speechless. 

You’re incredible. 

Love, yours

Cogito, Ergo Sum

I write ugly things.

That’s who I am.

I expel the bad onto paper.

Otherwise it gets stuck in me. Emotional constipation.

That’s probably why people hurt each other.

They need to get rid of it. The ache.

Can’t keep it in. Easiest way to get rid of hurt is to pass it onto someone else.

Most readers like it though. The hurt.

Look at Bukowski and Hemingway. They’re successful. Apart from the alcoholism and suicide.

I don’t understand them all that well.

You’re too young to understand, they tell me.

I don’t know about that.

I think I just don’t understand men who create their own suffering.

I’ve had enough pain. Disease and dead friends and all that.

Good thing for a writer though. To suffer.

Suffering brings validity to narrative.

I hate that.

I hate that perspective only matters if the writer has gone through something horrible.

Suffering adds to character. Solidifies it.

I also hate that.

Identity should not be so fickle.

It should be made of curiosity, interests, relationships, passion, and peace.

It should be made, fostered, cared for.

Not victimized.

But maybe that’s just the way we are.

We must rot so that others will salvage our blossoms.

We must dish out counterfeit pain to remember we are alive.

Mortal.

Look at me, you say, beaten red.

I bleed therefore I am.

welcome! stay a while <3

about me !

ash | 17 | autistic

what i will post !

my writing ( fanfics & smau’s ) ( i will soon make writing request rules, right now i’m just working on my own things 🥸 )

reblogs of my fav fics & art ( but most reblogs will be on my other account @reblogforeblogsake )

art (fan art i’ve made) , but that’s will be mostly on this account @artfromtheashes )

likes !

my hero academia (current hyperfixation )

fav characters : ochako uraraka, himiko toga, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugou, mina ashido, mei hatsume, hitoshi shinsou, eijiro kirishima, touya todoroki, keigo takami, shota aizawa, hizashi yamada ( but honestly everyone )

fav ships : togachako, bakudeku, erasermic

yellowjackets

fav characters : lottie matthews, laura lee, shauna shipman

fav ships : lottielee, jackieshauna

the disastrous life of saiki k ( never gonna give it up… never gonna let you down…🤓 ) ( sorry. don’t hate me. )

fav characters : kusuo saiki, shun kaidou, riki nendou, kineshi hairo, kokomi teruhashi ( basically everybody !!!! )

superstore & b99 : fav sitcoms, especially b99 at the moment

music : … i just love music 😵‍💫 (i’m big on big thief, mitski, fiona apple, chappell roan…)

editing, i edit on tiktok under a different username than here!

stickers… stickers..

avatar the last airbender : what can i say! it’s the best thing ever made 🤷

gravity falls, because of course!

horror movies & horror media : i don’t watch enough movies, i’m trying to watch more!! but i’m obsessed with the dead meat youtube channel and the kill count !!

the amazing world of gumball : actually never letting this go. i love it okay. it’s so funny.

the sims 4 : i haven’t played in so long cause of my shit computer 😔 but hopefully i can again soon! i miss CAS…

don’t likes / dni’s !

racist, homophobes, transphobes, ableism, bullying, pro/dark shippers, accounts that promote ED’s and SH, prominently NSFW accounts ( suggestive is fine, but if you only post nsfw and not safe for minors content it would be best to not to follow me as i am a minor )

i hope you’ll enjoy my blog and all my creations !!

Pure Love.

Himiko Toga x Ochako Uraraka

contents : togas blood thirst ofc, fluffy? i guess? more like sweet, they’re so in love, blood drinking, death mention

authors note : i love them. also i don’t know if i’m even able to write actual fics cause all i end up writing is odd poetry kind of things..

She’s pretty. So pretty. So pretty that I love her. She’s so cute, so beautiful. She’s beautiful and she’s bleeding. The pooling crimson of her blood makes my own blood rush. I want to hold her, to love her. I want to taste her, to devour her whole. How is this not normal? How is it not normal to want to be with the person you love, to love them so deeply and wholeheartedly that you want to become them? To feel so much for them you can’t help but sink your teeth into their soft flesh? I never understood why it was so frowned upon to love the way I do. But in this moment, as I drink the blood from her veins, feel her heartbeat next to mine, I feel perfectly normal. I feel love in its purest form.

•

I’ve never seen a cuter smile than hers. Her smile radiates pure joy and love. My vision blurs as she drinks from my bloodstream. It should hurt, and maybe it does, but I can barely feel it. All I can feel is her soft blonde hair brushing against me, her fast heartbeat against my own. My heart should be slowing, I can feel myself start to grow faint, and I don’t know when she’ll stop drinking. My heart beat should be slowing as I die, but it doesn’t. It matches the pace of hers, strong and sure, exactly as it should be. Even if she does kill me, I'll be glad the last thing I saw was her beautiful smile. I’m glad I put that smile on her pretty face. This should feel bad, wrong. It is wrong. But it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels perfectly normal. I love her, and this is how I will show it. This is love, pure and perfect.

if only we met sooner

if only we had met sooner

i might be really good at golf now

and although you’ve been practicing

you’re still losing at mario kart somehow

if only we had met before

we might have two cats (or four)

we might have been to turkey

and brought home several more

if only we had met earlier

i’d be joining you at the football matches

then we’d go back, have some dinner

then head to bed where i give you back scratches

if only we had met a two years ago

which is when you first saw me

you might be ready

and maybe i would be too

but i guess now we’ll never know

okay so this guy i’m dating told me to write him a poem bc i did ONE assignment on poetry for my english degree and he thinks i’m a poet.

fast forward weeks later and i finally thought of something that doesn’t start with “roses are red, violets are blue”

anyways i’m posting it here. idk if it’s any good, i trust tumblr not to judge me. yes it is sickeningly cute, i apologise in advance. (there is no title yet)

although we’ve known each other less than a while

everyday you make me smile

and that makes it worth every mile

that’s between us across this silly isle

p.s. idk whether to add any other stanzas or if it’s fine as it is 🥹

I think that to truly love someone, you need to allow half of your soul to live in another body. I think that's beautiful.

1. Where she felt seen for the first time.

2. Where he felt seen for the first time

3. Where they acknowledged they do that for each other.

False Guilt

It’s easier to think,

That you are a monster born broken,

Rather than a human made flawed.

A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)

A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat

A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one

A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy

The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in

The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel

The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape

The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart

As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies

The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”

The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”

An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling

A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling

The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more

They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t

It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir

An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet

Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed

They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin

Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran

But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands

The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars

Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still

That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith

But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find

That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious

Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come

As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt

But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone

There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again

But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.

I can tolerate the discomfort that comes from not being liked by others.

What I cannot tolerate is living out of alignment with my values and staying silent about things I care about just to make sure others like me.

if today was my last

If today was my last How would I spend it? would I take in all the little things, gathering all those little details that I have always missed, my head has always been too full of all these things that keep me up at night. Or would I still just float through it all Still just a shell of the kid I once was, all the vibrancy and wonder having left years ago.

Would I go to the library? to collect a few last lines Letting them live on the tip of my tongue. only to set them free with my last breath. letting the feeling of ink on the page, be the last thing my fingertips will feel. the smell of paper and secrets, invading my senses and welcoming me home at last.

Would I go to the school that has hallways I have haunted? having drifted through them, my eyes empty and my brain always too full with all those thoughts. stopping in the classes to whisper a few final goodbyes even though nobody would notice or hear me pausing the disorder and energy in those hallways, for just a few moments, finally letting myself take it all in.

would I go to the forest wherein the deepest part I could lie on its soft grass floor, in the utter calm of it letting my lungs finally breathe in the crisp air, the feeling of its coldness expanding within them. closing my eyes for the last time, finally letting myself feel at peace and safe, hearing the bird's singing floating around me, their cries being the last thing I will ever hear.

My last words will be uttered so softly that not even the wind would hear them, when they escape this prison of my mind, floating away with my final exhale. My last breath will flow out feeling free for the first time, escaping into the world seeing it all.

child of grey

My father was of ebony. My mother of ivory I am the child of grey. Not enough ebony to be of my father To little ivory to be with my mother

My heart was of half-ice. A cold so unfeeling So a cold almost to the point of burning, never enough feeling to care my head half of snakes calculating and cruel always planning and waiting for the perfect moment to strike

My heart is made of half gold. Tender and caring beautiful and full of love, perfect to suit you my head half made of fire burning hot, always craving for something to fuel it unpredictable and starving for its next game

I am the child of grey. With the head of flame and scales calculating and unpredictable, Ready to strike and always to keep you on edge. And my heart of ice and gold blinding you with its beauty, while slowing killing you with its burning ice

i love you

I have loved you since We were young. barely old enough to even understand what love even was. the feeling of pure and utter devotion I had felt for you before I fully realized How much love would ruin me. How much it would kill me Tearing me apart, never letting me go Stealing away my heart, never giving it back

be proud

You tell me to SPEAK UP. To be "proud of my words" Let them out into the world. Stand behind them, ready to defend them with my life. And my entire being and soul

but how am I supposed to be "proud" of my words when I haven't even learned how to be proud of my self

how am I supposed to be "proud" Of these words I say. When I've learned that they don't even matter They get shot down and ignored. Before they even got the chance to be spoken.

How am I supposed to be "proud" when I've seen how you react To the thoughts, I've put out. Putting my heart and soul into them and then getting to watch you kill them

to the sea

Take me to the sea. Where the air is crisp, and the smell of salt clings to it. Where the winds pull in the sound of the waves to the shore where I can finally hear them calling my name begging me to join them begging me to follow them into the deepest depths

Take me to the cliffs. where I can see the whole world in front of me with the deep sapphire sea stretching out to the horizon where it finally ends on the cliffs where the winds whip around me whispering those words of encouragement beckoning me to the edge telling me to take those last few steps To let those jagged rocks at the bottom welcome me home.

Take me to the forest. Where the trees swallow all the light leaving only the darkness to call my name inviting me to explore The air seems to be alive, swirling around me. Calling to me telling me to rest coaxing me to let the darkness and all the creatures in To let them devour me, control me. To guide me and welcome me home

haunted

I can still feel your fingers drifting down my skin as I still sit here after what seems like hours later they crawl down my neck, and back up my arms, through my hair. While your words, echo in through my ears with subtle warnings and orders no to be crossed.

dear adora, from elliott

To the little girl, I used to be do you remember all those nights when you would stay awake Thinking and dreaming up all those far away hopes and dreams You would stare up at the ceiling planning out how you would do it all

All those late nights Planning on how you would save the day Becoming that perfect superhero Swooping in to rescue everyone, Saving all the kittens from trees, Putting out fires Freeing your family from that living nightmare they would never wake from

Remember all those promises you would use to make Between you and the world outside that shitty apartment window Telling yourself it would get better, rehearsing it so much it was branded in your heart and brain Telling yourself those thoughts would go away That you could wake up And be the perfect daughter You would wake up and be a girl and believe it Your body would no longer feel so wrong

Spending all those nights and early mornings Praying to that god you were so hopelessly clinging to Begging him to make it all make sense Those thoughts stuck circling in your head All the worries and fears that had kept piling up Tangling themselves together

What would you think of me now if you saw who you became Would you be proud? Proud that I finally found myself That I had finally realized who I was Would you be happy? Happy that I had made it this far, Being able to finally make it to sixteen, even though you didn’t?

I guess you had been right when you thought you wouldn’t make it For me to make it, you had to die That I had to kill everything that you were Stealing away your name Cutting off those long curly locks, everyone had adored scarring that beautiful skin, that used to be your pride and joy

mama don’t you know

Mama, don’t you know your little baby is sitting in their room? Crying their eyes out screaming for help Screaming for you to help them Begging for you to love them for who they are

Mama, can’t you see the way they're pleading? How their pleading for you to love them For you to finally tell them they're good enough For you to please noticed this once how much they need you.

Mama, do you ignore the blank stares and the emptiness? The way they wear barcodes on their body       How no matter how much they try, they can't get you to love them

Mama, do you ignore all the blood and tears? Pretending you don't hear them crying out at night Acting like you don't notice the blood and bandages.

Mama do you spend your days looking for new ways to hurt them? You filled their heart with all your spite and hatred. Poisoning your little baby before they had a chance to grow Making them believe they were a weed Never let them be able to believe in anything else.

the bathroom

Smoke flows from my cracked and bloody lips the dingy bathroom lights flicker above me a low buzz echos through the room my reflection stares back at me a sly smirk gracing its lips I can almost hear its laugh echoing in my head. The cold porcelain of the sink pulsing against the rising heat of my hands dirt and grime caked on to the counter and mirror the buzzing of the lights mixes with the pounding of my head Voices and conversations outside the door seem to grow in volume. pounding against my eardrums All the noise seems to be surrounding me. Building up and building up my reflections laughter ringing in my ears the lights buzzing and flickering The mirror starts cracking. Sounds of glass falling and shattering mix with the symphony of noise The class finally shatters falling all around me. Knocking on the door starts. The pounding and shaking of the door mixes with the calls of my name It sounds like I'm underwater. The door and the voice feeling so far away while I'm sinking farther down in my head finally, I snap back I'm in the bathroom. the mirrors still intact no longer shattered lights buzzing no longer deafening My fingers loosen their grip on the sink. The reflection no longer laughing and taunting My legs start working. Uprooting themselves from the floor the sound of my footsteps echo against the walls

side show mirrors

You call me an attention whore.  Only because my heart screams out for any type of love  something you never gave  look me in the eyes.  And tell me. "I'm always craving attention."  All I could do was Laugh.  what you call craving attention I  call a cry for help.  Haven't you noticed that?  You never taught me.  how to ask for help

Anger feels like a sharp green. It lives in the eye of a snake ready to strike. Sharpening its tongue using it as a knife Ready to lash out and wound. Anger is locked in the eyes. Constantly watching and waiting to attack

Yellow is the color of safety. It warms like the sun's rays. Surrounding me. Being a beacon in the dark It's soft and shining in contrast, to angers hard sharpness Safety is free to roam. It finds those in need and makes them safe.

Fear is the darkest blue of the ocean. Primal, cold and harsh Running parallel to anger. Fear stalks its prey, Watching and waiting to strike. never hesitating, always ready. Waiting to cover you in its shallow depths pulling you under like a riptide Devouring you in its purest form

my anger

my anger is a cigarette with every hit, it pulls me in the rage fills my lungs like smoke killing me a little each time disdain exhaling like smoke disgust clinging like the smell of stale  cigarette contempt lingers in my mouth and on my tongue like the bitterness of menthol repulsion circling around the air, smothering  those around me like the smoke

her cravings

The girl craved depravity. She loved it in her twisted way. Loved how it made her feel The way it felt as the darkness consumed her. How it crept through her veins stealing its way into her heart making it's self its own little home inside her heart. Whispering their tales of the demented and cursed screaming the depths of its madness into her heart. Corrupting her, molding her, stealing her Twisting her into a demented shell of her once pure self.

take me

Take my lungs. watch me as I slowly.  Gasp for breath.  Have me begging for air.  while I slowly start to suffocate  my lungs start to cave 

Take my bones.  replace them with glass.  watch me as I shatter and break.  look at the crystal stained crimson  step on me while I'm already breaking  listen to the music of my whimpers of pain,  mixing with the sound of shattering glass 

The lost of dear one

Losing you was the worst thing to ever happen

To me you were everything great to ever happen

When time came and took you away

Was when time if I may

Hurt the one thing I care for

Took you away

I found you lying there, still

I felt ill

I held you and cried

For when I saw you I thought you died

If have it'd be impossible for you were a mere toy

But to me you were more than that

A friend first

A toy second

So as way to put this to end

Say I love you and time shall begin again

Yes this is about a toy

No I will not change it it's silly

Prompt/challenge from: @poppiesandpromises

And I'll be back soon with another poem

maybe... Probably..

Hope I did well-

masks and helmets that hides someone's face in such a way that they become the face themselves my beloved

these are all creatures to me

Ok I was just chilling in my bed when my brain came up with this piece of poetry

In a sea filled with chaos and uncertainty are you a continent? A land that’s known to many, always there for others to lean on for security and a sense of safety.

Or are you an island? A small paradise known only to a few, however those that know you feel safe and secure in your presence.

Or are you just another boat on the sea searching for a continent or island to call your own.

I’m not a poet I’ve never come up with any sort of poetry before but I think this is beautiful!

Reads as follows: "If you were to exchange the atoms of an allium

For the element of gallium

It wouldn't look exactly the same

Yet opposite if you change the name

And gallium, it melts like snow

Becomes malleable as dough

And said allium of gallium beams with joy

For it can withstand any attempt to destroy

While a standard flower may shrivel up and die

This allium of gallium stands tall and high"