Forest Writes

Most of these are surrounding personal struggles and mental illness but there’s also a lot of nature and love integrated in my writing. Feedback is always appreciated to help me improve

Forest Writes

Most of these are surrounding personal struggles and mental illness but there’s also a lot of nature and love integrated in my writing. Feedback is always appreciated to help me improve

The War Between Head And Heart Part 2

Forest Writes

1 min read

I am made entirely of flaws, stitched together by good intentions. Everything about me feels wrong and I have this nasty habit of hurting the ones I love. Not because I desire to see them in pain. But because sometimes I make the wrong choices. My brain is at war with my heart. My feelings all jumbled and buzzing around my head like a swarm of hornets. I am afraid and I get angry and I am hurt easily. And when my emotions start buzzing I start acting wrong. I am filled with guilt. The grief of losing people due to my own actions. My pain causing the pain of others. The ones I love the most are subjected to the poison of my tongue. My vicious fangs lashing out and grabbing hold whenever I’m afraid. I don’t mean to bite this way. I’ve been hurt and abandoned and ruined my whole life. I’m like a dog who’s known nothing but the brutal hand of man. I want desperately to be good. I love hard and with all of myself. I cling to the ones I love with fierce devotion. I give myself to them completely. I’d ruin my life for the ones I love. I’d stay up all night. I’d give my life. I’d let myself be an emotional punching bag just to be loved. I’d do anything to take care of my love. But I think I love too hard. Too fiercely. I love with tooth and claw and I don’t know how to stop. How to I love gently? I want to love like a gentle deer and not a beaten dog. All of my love is filled with good intentions, yet all I can see are flaws.

Poetry

Dead Roses

Forest Writes

1 min read

I remember the day I got those roses A beautiful vase Bright colors Soft petals A note of love intwined in the stems I pricked my hands on the thorns An omen foreshadowing our love Pain within beauty But to me it all seemed worth it How could something so beautiful come with such hurt Now your long gone All that’s left are memories But they aren’t good memories anymore They’re memories of fights Screaming and crying and running away Now I stare at those roses Long ago they wilted and whitherd The note a pile of ash in the trash And the memory of thorns etched into my skin I thought our love was forever beautiful and gentle Now all that’s left are these dead roses

Poetry

The War Between Head And Heart

Forest Writes