Scribbles

A collection of poetry.

From the Outside In

From the outside in,

I can tell something is off...

But it's probably just too early.

Or you've got a busy day you're not ready for.

Or last night you just couldn't fall asleep.

I'm sure you're just tired.


From the outside in,

You're grumpy from a bad day.

That douche from work has gotten under your skin.

Or there have been one too many inconveniences.

Or there's too much to do when you were supposed to relax.

I joke and try to lighten your mood, you fake a laugh and a smile.

Just for me.


From the outside in,

You've had a rough week..

You're a bit snappy.

You're a bit tired.

You're a bit stressed.

Suspicions rise but I don't fear the worst.

I try to take up some extra chores to do my part.

You've got a busy life. I'd be stressed, too.


From the outside in,

I know now.

I was hoping it was something else,

But I can tell now.

And I don't know what to do.

Do I pull out my best comedy?

Do I give you a hug and say "I know, me too sometimes?"

I don't want to just ignore it and hope it goes away...

Because I know it doesn't go away.

The Angel and Her Demon

She seeks darkness

I seek light

She idolizes the night

I pray for a dawn

She is an angel seeking chaos

I am a demon seeking redemption

She works for mistakes to keep as memories

I work to forget my many sins

Her charm is the moon, for the darkness she craves

My charm is the sun, for the new dawn I crave

Facing Fears

Living life carefree

Seeing every sight to see

Then you see things meant to frighten

Sweat pours and heart beat heightens

Should you buff up and stand ground

Or bolt and leave without a sound

Will you be known as cowardly or brave

Simply because you left or stayed

Survival over public eye?

Or be the hero and possibly die?

The Grief Striking God

They speak of a higher being, to leave me of sorrows and worries.

They speak of supernatural, that hears my sadness and stories.

Believe him, they say.

He will bring you guidance.

Listen to him, they say.

He will relieve your conscious.

Love him, they say.

He will bring answers.

I tried and tried,

To find relief.

I tried and tried,

I tried to believe.

But all I heard was silence.

When a Monster Returns

Hello old book,

Oh how I've missed you.

Old thoughts are back,

and some are new.

I thought I'd escaped,

But I guess I forgot.

You can never escape

Your own horrid thoughts.

I thought I was okay

Maybe I was finally free

Thanks to my lover

The greatest guy I've ever seen

I feel there's something wrong

Something's eating away at me

It won't leave me alone

It won't let me be free

It's something inside

It fills me with dread

Maybe it's that horror

That I thought was dead

That horrible madness

That left me with ugly scars

That convinced me that I

Should live among stars

But this time I'm ready

Too experienced to fail

I will beat the madness

I will prevail

Coming Home

Entering a room that's, of course, mine

But maybe not mine anymore

Clothes I can no longer fit,

Paint brushes I can no longer maneuver,

Unfinished projects that have to stay that way,

Favorite pieces of jewelry that are too difficult to wear.

Yes, this isn't so much mine anymore,

Now I have a special wardrobe that I have to wear

(90% of it can't be worn in public, unless you're willing to look odd)

I have a special set up for painting

(Requires two people and takes so long to set up it's not worth it)

I have an iPad and a couple of books to occupy my time

(Projects are silly anyway, right?)

I don't go out enough to need jewelry

(They say you're prettier natural, anyway)

It's so nice to be back home.

It's almost like nothing life-changing even happened.

Your Favorite Broken Accessory

There I sit.

Broken to the point of useless.

Stowed away into the back of the jewelry box.

You were so upset I had broken, promised yourself you'd fix me ASAP.

Your friends loved me just as much. I was constantly borrowed.

Time passed.

Things distracted you.

And your lucky bracelet was broken so...

You left me behind.

I watch you move on. Buy new bracelets. Do new things.

While I wait to be fixed,

Here I sit.

The Crash

They say when you endure a tragedy that you'll, eventually, hit a wall.

They say that all of the negative thoughts and worries will hit me sooner or later.

The thoughts are supposed to fade and hide away in the dark corner of myself that is never touched until they build up, creating a solid force just large enough to hit me square in the sternum and knock the air from my lungs.

But it hasn't come.

And I'd say it's taken too long to say that it will come.

You see,

Instead of crashing headfirst into this wall of self pity, I simply walk along it. I walk throughout my life with my hand outstretched to the mass of depression like a young girl dragging her hand along a cobblestone wall. I walk along, constantly infected by the anxiety radiating from this dark force. I can almost feel the ice cold touch of a death wish. I can almost feel the intense static of overwhelming anxious thought. I can almost feel the heavy air of hopeless depression. I walk from day to day resisting the tempting whispers of this wall. It may be healthier to crash into it, clear the dark corner out by bashing it into rubble, then licking my wounds and continuing on my way. But I don't have the time it takes to crash. I don't have the time it takes to recover. I only have time to keep moving.

If at some point in the future I take a hard left turn into the mass that's calling my name, it'll be earth shattering. It will be a breath taking, mind blowing, crowd calling collision. The kind that pops organs and crunches bone like cereal. The kind of collide that literally and figuratively spins heads and takes your breath away. And under all of the smoke and rubble you'll find my body. Eyes wide, hair matted to my face, chest spilled over the debris. But there will be an unsettling look of relief on my face knowing the wall is gone and that the inevitable has finally come.

And I don't know if I'm ecstatic or terrified at the thought of this possible experience.

Tessa Celeste
Tessa Celeste

Hi! I specialize in poetry and short stories (more specifically tragedies)! I hope you enjoy! You can also find me on Wattpad!  http://www.wattpad.com/user/FwaygoTango 

Now Reading
Scribbles