I refuse to give up,
on this world of glass,
where promises made
are too often shattered.
Yet I am so afraid...
to be open, to feel joy,
to stop scanning the room
for all the ways
you could break me.
Maybe all I am
is rib and bone,
blood and tissue—
but maybe not.
Perhaps I am forged
from stranger things:
The delicate spine
of a spring flower.
Birdsong and laughter.
The breathless echo
of a stolen kiss.
So let fear come.
I am trading safety
for the open sky.
I am wild and I am free,
I will teach myself to fly.
-
Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 13th, 2026 02:10
- Comment from author about the poem: Bella White - Rhododendron 🌼
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments2
Most poetic in its images (that gets the fave) This poem speaks to me of one too sensitive for a callus world, too tender for the brutality of love, too soft for life's beatings. Well written
Thank you Soren, I really appreciate it 💕
You are very welcome Kora
We cannot let this world or the words of others cage us!
Absolutely!
I also just want to say - loving the profile pic! Love the idea of how freeing nudism is! ☺️
Aw, thank you so much! I try to encourage everyone to try it. It is indeed wonderfully freeing!
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