What’s love if you can’t love yourself first? The way we get comfort is knowing what we want first. We only know ourselves more than anyone knows us. We know our strengths and weaknesses of what we actually want in life. My inspiration is myself on how I achieve things and how I can become a better person. Loving yourself is your own blanket on how others will treat you and how they’ll love you. Accept yourself so others can accept you. Doesn’t matter what size or how you’ll look it’s you who needs to assure yourself of how you accept yourself. The most important thing is not to depend on anyone to treat you in some type of way so you can feel important, you are important no matter what. My mother always gave me comfort and told me to be tough on myself. The only way I feel successful is when I always succeed in my needs and not in what others want. A mothers comfort is all we need in life nothing else.
About the Creator
Ezra Colton
I am a freelance writer, working mom, and great with creative writing.
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Invincible
Did you see me anywhere I doubt you did. You looked right through me and didn't care. Was I that invincible to you? I guess I was. I’m transparent and can go through anything and everything, but I’m not out of glass because I break. It wasn’t satisfying seeing others and not being able to see myself. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without feeling disgusted,. wouldn’t you? I was blind and lost; but now I feel free of myself. I dont feel trapped anymore and that’s because of you. You made me into a strong person and someone who doesn’t put up with your bull and thanks to you I am who I am. So thank you for raping me because I was able to see the world without you.
By Ezra Colton 3 years ago in Poets
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli6 days ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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