Short Poem About Myself Novels & Stories

"Writing poetry has been a source of solace and inspiration for me. Today, I'd like to share a poem I wrote, inspired by moments of reflection and the beauty of. . . Love.” Taking a moment to centre himself, Ryan begins to recite, his voice carrying the rhythm and cadence of his verses: "Not my acrostic smudges; Darkness is running towards me. I am running away from me. A universe is so huge. In just depths of my eyes, The universe is Too vast to fit. I am Asking myself;

My fiancée and my best friend were the top partners at a multi-million-dollar law firm, while I was just the guy handling the administrative work. In the courtroom, they were in perfect sync, trading fierce legal arguments and sharing an effortless dynamic. In their personal lives, they casually flirted through law jokes that only the two of them understood. I could never get a word in, edge-wise. Every time they laughed, I offered a painfully awkward smile. Even at my mother's funeral, nothing changed. They chatted merrily in front of her coffin, eventually breaking into audible laughter. “Clara, can you greet the guests?” I called out to her. I was the only child in the family, and a

I said, taking in a trembling breath. I had never felt that vulnerable before. “Why?” He whispered against my neck. My ears burnt with all the blood pounding with insanity in my body. Gulping hard, I stuttered, “because my answer wouldn’t make a difference.” He made me face him, pinning me against the door. “Who… was the poem for?” I shut my eyes, “no one! It was just a stupid poem. I didn’t write it for you. Not that it’d ever matter to you—”

Cause I want to be happy for the rest of my life and this time no one and anything is taking my happiness away from me ~ ™Away I go, carried on wings of passion™ ™Drinking droplets of time™ ™My heart has flown from it's cage™ ™Falling in love with myself, Embracing lie with open arm™ ™Away I go, carried on wings of passion™ ™My heart has frown from it's cage™ ™Falling in love with myself, Embracing life with open arms™ ™Clasping the moment in your fingertips like a butterfly™ ™As it takes wing it leaves traces of Colour™

As I scrolled down, I came across a photo. Her account was mostly filled with videos of her singing. She rarely shared photos. In this one, she was sitting at a table, hand on her cheek, gazing out at the sea. My eyes drifted to the caption underneath: They do not know, those who do not live alone, What fear silence brings to a person; How a person speaks to themselves; How they run to mirrors, Longing for a soul, They do not know. She’d shared a poem by a Turkish author.

Mother flinched as she saw me. "Vera… you—You’re still here?" I said nothing. Just grabbed my bag and walked into the night—into the cold air and the arms of the moon. Vespa stirred again. We were never one of them, Vera. But we are not alone. I tilted my face skyward, letting the night wind carry my scent far from that house. From the pack that never truly saw me. From the mate who never chose me. Let them keep their false bonds. I would forge my own.

Now she turn to me and begins with a melodic rhythm: ‘Born in fire, but I’m not hot, I can be written, yet I’m not a jot. I’m a secret revealed through ancient art, Unlocking the mysteries hidden in a heart. What am I?’

“But I have seniority. That makes my mistakes forgivable.” He collapsed onto the floor beside me, panting through his laughter. “You’re just old.” “Old enough to know better,” I countered. “Old enough to know that poems aren’t just words, they’re maps. They take you to who you’re supposed to be.” Liam was quiet for a moment. Then, in a smaller voice, “And who am I supposed to be?” “Someone who remembers,” I said. “Someone who keeps the good parts alive.”

The poem is titled 'SPEAK TO YOURSELF' and it reads thus. ******************************************************* How often do you converse with yourself? How often do you speak to yourself? How often do you listen to yourself when no one is speaking? How often do you minister to yourself? How often do you truly embrace yourself, your pain, your flaws, your truth, your fears... SPEAK TO YOURSELF Say to yourself.... "Though I am shattered and bereaved and I might wither with the wind but like seeds, I can sprout out of the ground, new and better. "

I want a man to call my own. I'm more than just a fairy. I can fight, and I can sing. I can make myself big or make myself small. I'm so alone that, at times, I want to die. No one will miss me because all they see is a fairy. The loneliness is a darkness that surrounds me. I live in a cloud when I want to live in the light. I can't see through the pain in my heart. Why can't they see me for who I am? I'm more than just a fairy.