Loading...
en
English Español Français Italiano

paige b.

Untitled

Knowledge is pain,
Knowledge is power.
The beauty of knowledge
Seems so tangible and so beautiful,
That mankind must have it.
Fire is like knowledge.
A spark can spread
And grow into a raging wildfire.
Flames, flames
Delicate and beautiful,
All the same passionate and powerful,
Devouring the minds of the innocent.
Yet, with such a hurtful outcome,
Mankind is ever tempted by the
Lacey filigree of the flames
Jumping into the fire–
He did not know he would
Burn, burn, burn.

Ignorance is blissful and knowledge is power, but when does power become too much?

2
Liked or faved by...
Evelyn Jey Macks
Other works by paige b....
dying?

flirting with death ring the bell and run she knows it was you but she lets you go you are waiting to die.
 3
 1
I don’t know what is real anymore.

I fear That now There is no real me. I wear a mask of personality And pretend I’m happy.
 1
Hiraeth

There are words that I was mistaken to say. There was one time when we were strangers,
Untitled

If I died And no one knew, I don’t know. And I am scared And everything hurts
Puerile

I’ll tell you to hold on tight, and we can be alone together in this nothingness. I’ll tell you to tell me a story, and we can laugh and cry together
so tired

i am unsure where you are in this night. it is cold it is dark
Unbroken

Dare you to shatter Dance in the rain while Unbreaking and Made by the darkness. And there are stars,
oblivion

Tired. So tired. My eyes fail and my soul gives up.
What does the wind taste like?

The wind– A finicky rush That has to be somewhere else All the time. The faint echoes of summer
 1
autumn

dance in the sun watch it splatter over your face
words.

Wet paper arrows quivering against the bright string of the bow. The arrows
Resentment

Maybe I resent it because I know that since it meant so much it hurts so much more. And maybe I resent the fact
Sorry.

I’m sorry I never told you About why I was so nervous around… I’m sorry I never confessed Because you moved on, And I didn’t.
Untitled #2

What am I without poetry, Without words, blossoming on the page? I would be but a shell of myself And you would find me
 1
 2
Maybe

All I have to say Is I am incomplete A story left unwritten A page left unturned But that does not matter



Top