Dmoral

United States


est. 2018
she/her | junior
semi active; chaotic life.
published writer + classics enthusiast.
obsessed with name titled poetry & songs.

Message to Readers

reposting because of my lack of new material, let's thank school for thattt

mother nature doesn't need personifying

September 10, 2020

FREE WRITING

14

morning dew slipping from your eyelids, and
your soil skin embraces it; and the 5am ghost you
past on your morning run watches you through
the slits of passing by shadows, listening to the
hollow motions of a wondering soul trying to find
itself through the startling fog (, it just wants to
embrace you, but you don't know that
). while you
run past the whispering trees attuned to the delicacy
of your steady breathing; classical music braids your
thick, horse hair out of your ears, though strays come
out and refuse to disappear; so the birds take these
pieces for nests and weave them at the ends of your
fingernails (you refuse to color something that already
holds true beauty)
. muscles anchor their soreness in
you only on your days off, reminding you that in the
moment everything's only better (so it seems) but
when you're alone and refusing, it's only selfish and
noncaring (no, moments of resurfacing is not an option,
keep on going
). so what do you do when it isn't fun
anymore? when the resting clouds are too heavy on
your petite shoulders; the lightening tinges your skin
where it once tickled it; while the waves slap your
back; and growing things to their death seems to feed
inevitability's desire for circularity. yet, no one answers
this question as you fade into the world surrounding you,
becoming a blur in everyone else's blind spots, something
they just keep on passing (it never-ending). perhaps,
mother nature is overrated, but the words don't even
rattle the bones because they're hollow, hollow
like fallen tree trunks laying the forest screaming silent
cries as the bugs eat them. 'cause something's eating
at you but you can't tell the world you don't want to live
in it  anymore, there's nowhere else for you to go. so take
the damage; collect it like coins you never show, only hide;
and keep moving your legs as if you were running for a
reason you knew: never stop, if, you can keep going.
lowercase intentional.
Finished: 9/3/2020

written in between classes, based off of my 5:20am runs in the morning before school when muses slapped me in the face. ngl, my poetry's getting a little sloppy, so sorry about that. just bare with me! AP classes are draining me

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  • September 10, 2020 - 9:30am (Now Viewing)

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5 Comments
  • Century Friend

    All of the images are just gorgeous. "morning dew slipping from your eyelids, and
    your soil skin embraces it;" I love this piece so much, and it's incredible that you were able to wring all of this from a morning run.


    3 months ago
  • lochnessie

    wow the imagery in this is so amazing! this is so good!!! ...
    wow i sound like a broken record - totally necessary.


    3 months ago
  • Cici'sTimes

    Isn't it amazing what happens to us while we run! You are doing great, so keep up the hard work!


    3 months ago
  • Paisley Blue

    <3 hang in there! I love the imagery in this poem and the wonderful word choice :) as always, your work is a delight!


    3 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    First of all, props to you for running in the mornings. That's impressive on its own. And wow, isn't it amazing the places you find inspiration? And for great pieces like this, no less.


    3 months ago