miranassoulisburriedhere

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Lying is not for fun

You hate me, And you tell me. You say that you're so full of me, But the next moment you're telling me how you could never get full of me.

So which one is the lie? Or do they cancel eachother out, Until there's nothing left, just a weird numbness between us. Is that what happened?

Did you block yourself away from me? Or am I just that unbearable that I become something bearable?

When you say you love me, is that a lie? Or when you scream at me that you hate me, are you telling the truth? Is there two sides to this story too? Because I don't think so-

You're just scared that I won't become like you, You know I will never be the woman you'd like me to be, And you hate yourself so much you won't accept me for me.

So, do you lie to yourself or just me?

2025, July 18th I had the first two verses of this in my head for a while now, and I got the time and inspiration to finish it, so, ENJOY

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

18th birthday wishes come true

All of my poems are about you, haven't you noticed? Oh, right. I can't show you any of them because 8/10 is about how shitty you treat me and how I'd wish you die.

That's what true love looks like, no? So much love that it's filled with gore and gruesome torture. Wouldn't you like to know how I bled in the same house as you without you even knowing? Wouldn't you feel bad after I would confess my attempts to you?

Remember the time you calmy said "If someone thinks about suicide or if they cut themselves, I'd encourage it. It's stupid; if your mind ever crosses that or if I find out you do any of this. You know what I'd do? I'd grab a knife, give it to you and I would tell you to do it. I'd watch you die bleeding out if that's what you wanted. Because there's no point in you living if you ever did anything like that.".

We were watching a movie... And you said it so casually, like it was a normal thing to say. That was the second time I knew that I'll never come back to you once I'm 18. It was just another reason added to why I'll never open up to you about anything.

Because I realized you were sick in the head. You still are. Why would you ever tell your own daughter that if she's struggling with mental health, To just kill herself.

Yeah, I guess that's why almost all of my poems are about you, Because if you didn't know it before, let me tell you now. You're shit.

No, not shit, that's too flattering. Something worse than all the curse words morphed into one. Even the deepest pits of hell would be like luxury compared to what you actually deserve.

I love you, mom. I really do, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't throw a party at your death. And it won't change that I have concrete strong opinions about the person you really are.

My hate for you is more than infinite, while my love is slowly dissipating. The hate is growing larger and larger by the second, as you push me around with the excuse of "love".

So please, if I can have one more wish on my 18th birthday as I blow out the candles you so preciously placed, while I'm slowly stepping out of your cage. Could I ask you to go fuck yourself and then to never contact me again? Without seeing eachother whatsoever.

Yes? Good, 'cause it'll happen either way. It will be my first own choice you can't take away.

When I'll leave, though, I'll give you a box. The box will contain all of my poems, texts, vents about you, in form of paper. All translated just to give it some more flavor.

On the last page, It'll say: "Fuck you, Szilvia!" and nothing more. You'll know what it means.

You'll be just a stranger, a nameless face whom doesn't represent any resemblence of a mother. A stranger I know way too well. A stranger with a name I'll no longer bear. It'll all be changed,

I won't be your blood or better version, I won't be Szilvia.

2025, June 19th For you to understand this: my second name is Szilvia, which is my mother's name. We share a name, which I hate, because I will never want to be associated with that woman, whatsoever.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

A rotten heart can only hope to replenish and beat again

Love; Such a complex feeling compared to the simple word.

Never have I ever really felt it before. Sure, I said the forbidden sentence already, but that wasn't ever real.

I always thought it was. Until I found out the actual meaning of those words. I wasn't exactly sad about it, Only disapointed.

Maybe of myself, because I so yearned to love, But so far my heart wasn't capable of the act.

Will I be able to ever give what's inside of me? Pour out all of myself to someone I can call a lover. Not the kind in bed, But the person whom I care about, to be fair. Someone I truly love, that earned that role in my life.

It all sounds so cheesy and cringe, However the thought of if being real warms my heart.

Would I ever get down on one knee? To ask someone to marry? Would they accept that crooked ring of mine?

It's been forged from my blood, some of my bones holding it tough, The small crack in the ring makes it really mine. Represents everything I went through to carve a line.

Into the ring and their life. But who am I talking about, When there's no one I could call mine.

I can only hope love will find me. And I wouldn't mind to work for it, As long as in the end, the purpose would be till death.

2025, June 18th I wrote this in class as well- but yeah. I was just questioning life and contemplating love. Pretty much speaks for itself, the single-ness got to my head XD

But really, I was just spiraling in my head.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

0:46AM

I want to scream, Scream till my vocal chords bust and I can no longer form a sound.

Mute; just as you'd like me to be. So instead, I'll stay silent and keep my voice for later.

You use the silence though, I know you're making sure to take advantage of my own vow.

I feel the way you look at me, sense it on the side of my face; your gaze as the thoughts form in the back of your mind. "Should I make her do even more labour?"

Because that's what it is. Labour. I'm forced and used to clean, cook, take care; and I still must act kind and heartfelt.

You use the silence between my oh so rare words and fill them in with chores I can't decline or refuse to do.

I want to shout, Shout so loud your ears would pop and you wouldn't be able to hear anymore. Deaf; just as I'd like you to be.

So I could use my voice for once without the need to hold back on my words and tongue. 'Cause you wouldn't be able to hear and take my freedom of speech away.

Yet, I can't do either, No screaming or shout; Silent in the name of a protest against mothers who like to take advantage of.

Freedom, both so near and far away. It's in my hands, but your hands are clutching mines.

I want to run, Run so far you'd never find or see me again. Gone; as I'd like me to be.

No more forced jobs, cleaning, cooking, taking care of. No more snickering comments because I forgot to take down the trash again. No more fights over the pets I care more about than you ever did. No more pointless conversations you force between you and me about thing I never even asked about. No more or you.

I want to shrink, Small; as you'd like me to be.

So (not) innocent and giddy, Full of passion and love, things and feelings you love to recieve, but never care to reciprocate.

Childlike but more mature than you. So who's the mother of two? My half brother you abandoned also turned into a better person than you. Somehow we both grew up without a mother, but ended up learning responsibility.

I want to stay, Here; as I'd both want and wouldn't want me to be.

So I could witness all of your mistakes, so for once the roles would be reversed. Finally I could point out your flaws you always fuss about if I also have it.

Let it be a scream, a shout, gone, small, here or none. You'll be my mother, Only in blood, but I'll carve your name.

On the headstone of your grave and into my skin to remember your name.

2025, June 17th. I wrote this at 0:46am as the name suggests, after getting used and forced to do things just because I'm her daughter. She's been using the "I'm your mother and you're my teenage daughter. You should do as I say and learn how to be a real woman." line recently a bit too much. For fucks sake, that's mysogynistic. Plus she's the one complaining when I'm the one doing everything around the house, but God forbid I take of two days so I could catch up with school or have some me time instead of working my back off around the house she doesn't even live in.

I also wanted to mention my half brother in the poem 'cause I seemed it important to raise awarness that she has a son whom she doesn't speak to and completely abandoned, yet me and him are on great tracks, we both turned out to be the bigger person and we have actual manners. He's now 28 and an amazing person, even though I didn't grow up with him or anything like it, he's the best.

And the weird thing is I still feel like this won't be the last poem about her. Because the older I get the more I see the way she's acting narcissistic and toxic. I can totally oversee the fake ass mask she has on when she needs something either done, help with or just anything.

But of course if I say no, to doing any of that I'm such a bad daughter and ungreatful. Ungreatful your ass. She's really like one of those men on the internet who go asking around nudes but when you say no they change atitude and call you ugly and stuff. But she's the woman version and in real life, in a different scenario and way, yet still the same.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

I hate you! (I killed you)

I'm mad, I'm angry. I hate you from the fast food companies to the pulsating asshole of a volcano. Yet that still wouldn't come close to how much of my hate is for you.

We're chained by blood, I call you family, But we're really clearly not.

I did everything and more, And that still wasn't fucking enough. Tell me then, you stranger, What would be enough?

Should I rip off my skin to iron it to perfection? Or maybe I'll crack my head open like an egg; And cook you a meal of all of my thoughts.

It will be a lovely meal... One so good you'll drop dead from the seasoning. Fried brain stew that swims in thoughts of killing. Topped with a shake of "I hate you"-s and a handful of gore flakes on the top to shine red in this meal of complete insanity.

Because that's what I feel, So much hate and anger that my thoughts turn vulgar and violent, You bring this out of me; once again.

So please, take a seat at the bathroom pavement. Let me coat you in my intestines. I'll wrap them around your throat, till you can't breathe. Then, as you take your last breath, I'll whisper in your ear to taunt your death.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you; I killed you, I killed you, I killed you, I killed you, I killed you..."

2025, June 10th

I wrote this yesterday because recently I've been sooo fucking angry that I've been getting (and still am) used, nonetheless by really close family, (if you saw my post on my main then you know, if you don't then- you don't). It's been getting really out of hand, and I can't stop it because the person this poem is about pretty much controls my life so I really don't have a choice, other then to somehow put all of my feelings out into the wilderness by... this? It's still not enough though, because it never stopped and even when I try to stand up for myself there is nothing else for me to do, I get silenced, so I kinda gave up and shut all of my feelings inside, gave the person the silent treatment and indifference but that didn't give me any resemblance of peace or maybe a clear mind which made me pick up my notebook in philosophy class yesterday and I wrote down some of my very real thoughts onto paper in the matter of 15 minutes-

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

What goes on in my mind when I'm under the influence of a bottle of vodka

It's chaos. It's empty. At times it's angry. There are moments of madness, And faint memories of happiness.

So many things, Yet none at all. It's sorted through, But it's messy all year around.

It holds everything that is dear to me. But, I'm trapped with thoughts of gasoline. One small spark would light it all on fire. And destroy everything that I've built up before.

It's beauty, That is leithal. Gorgeous at times, Then it self destructs.

So, you could say it has everything and nothing going on. A lot happening but no actions, it's a boring movie where I'm the all star.

With a face mask of gold. Always acting while my mind overflows. The seas of gasoline drowning out the noise. Only to leave one single thought dry. That wouldn't burn in the flames.

"I'm fine." This thread of thoughts is made out of obsidian. It's carved into the sides of my mind, my brain. Always there, my respond to anything.

Even if it's not true. Even if it hurts to say it. My mind forces it out and into the wild.

Maybe there's a city of light, Somewhere deep inside. Where even the taverns are made of starlight.

It's where all the good takes place. My mind stores them far away. So out of place, even I don't know where. That's why I'm locked outside, Left to drown, To ignite a sprite.

One either deadly, Or one that dries out the gasoline. But I'll never know, Until it's too late. I'm already lost to the healthy and greatness.

And that, That is how my mind works. This is what's inside. The wars of nothing always continuing on.

Let it be with the alcohol or gasoline. This mind never goes to sleep- Except when it will... My mind will burn my will.

2025, June 5th I wrote this not too long ago for a competition in a discord server, the theme was "what goes on whitin your mind". And so I finally participated after my last try (when I got 3rd place... I don't think I have that poem by now, but it wasn't good. Trust me). I'm pretty confident with this try though, since I actually like this poem even though it was a themed one :3

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Going to reblog this beauty here, because I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out :3

For anyone wondering, yes I was the anon-

My dear Clematis, you bring me all the light one could ask for. You make my world colorful, the old grayness no longer present. I can see out of all the blurriness in my life clear now; all because when I'm with you, your presence clears my own messy one. You are a Goddess walking on Earth; everywhere you go flowers bloom and everything fills with life. And I am fortunate to call you mine, since God himself blessed me with our lives intertwining. You know, my dear Clematis... I chose this nickname because the flower it is has all of your characteristics. Let me indulge in explaining that further: "The Clematis flower has multiple meanings behind it, such as mental acuity, wisdom, aspiration and mischief." and I feel like that explains you on such a deep level that the flower should be the lucky one to be your nickname. The Clematis is also a climbing vine flower, which made my choice of it even much more true. It keeps on climbing even if there are rough textures ahead or the climate is not on the sunny side. I know how tough it can be for you my Clematis, and I also know that you keep on growing and expanding no matter what, like the Clematis, no one stops you and your heart of gold. The Clematis, even though much to it's beauty; can be very toxic to humans and pets, sometimes dangerous yet still gentle and gorgeous. So even when you, my dear Clematis are deadly, I still stay to touch, breath and admire; because I don't care about the pain it'll cause me. I don't mind burning in your flames if that means I'll get to bear the scars and burns you made. I'll be the happiest most merriest to say that my dear Clematis was the one to mark me, to show off you own my soul and body. So dear Clematis, my one and only blooming flower; I just hope you know I love you and I'll love you no matter what. Let it be anything, I'll always be here to water you if you feel like drying out, and till the end I'll keep on inhaling your sweet yet deadly scent of love. Because this is not just some metaphor, you ARE my Clematis, dear. Even if you don't think so, you are. And I'll be forever thankful to God just for you.

Ma cherie… how ardently I wish I could reciprocate this adoration. How I shall strive to be worthy of this love, this title you have bestowed upon me <3

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

hi!! im reading ur stuff, ur writing style is actually SO beautiful, and they convey a lot of emotion!!!! i also like how they paint images very clearly. hope you’re doing alright, though :( ! i hope things get better (if you’re still feeling that way) and of course i know at the end of the day it’s absolutely not my business and you don’t have to share anything you’re not confortable sharing, but if you ever wanna reach out or need anything i’ll be glad to listen and try to help! take care !!^_^

AWWWW HIIII!

Thank you <3 I'm glad you like these :3

Yeah, I'm doing alright! I usually write these when I'm already better or getting better so yupp! Plus I don't know why I'm not really the type to reach out- however I'll keep that in mind <33

My writing style really only shows in the newer poems but those rule and I'm happy you like them :3 I might do some new ones because school will be kicking my ass which means I'll be doing no studying whatsoever and instead I'll be writing fanfic and poems in class 🫡

So yupp :3

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

I'd die

I wish I could die. I wish I'd die. I would die. I would die to tell him how he saved me. Isn't that ironic? To die just to say: "You saved me.".

Would it be glory? In the end, I don't think so.

It'd much rather be hell, shame and rest. Rest. Because I finally told him. That he was my saviour. But I don't want the comfort of rest.

Comfort makes me uncomfortable, It makes me go feral, with the silent space in me. I'd live in discomfort if I could choose. I'd rather choose to die from all the options.

One would think angels are not walking on Earth. I'd beg to differ, He's one.

I call him an angel, if not a God. But, a God would care, would listen. He does neither. That's why I'd die. So he'd listen... for once.

Yet, he's no superior, there is no veil over his gorgeous face to protect it from all that's evil.

No, he's just a mere human.

One, I'd die for.

2025, May 17th This was to one of my idols, and it's definitely one of the poems that stand really close to my heart. If anyone would know who this is about they'd call me stupid and childish, or worse. But he really saved me. So even from here- thank you.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Was it ever real?

So was it ever in her head? Maybe it was all real. Those feelings, those memories, those people... Only a faint painting in the back of an old gallery.

Paint chipping off, like how hair slowly falls out when the chemo starts.

Birds are dying. Falling from the sky all so peacefully. Like glitter when a piñata gets beaten, ripping open to give you it's sweet guts.

Was it real? The pull, the way she grew up? It all seems like one fever dream. A never ending one, One where you never wake up. One that makes you want to rip off your fingernails and poke your eyes out.

And so it was real. In her case, that is. The wild fights over nothing- Her conversations with no one, but the walls and the dogs. Oh how they listened.

To her rambles about nothing and all. Speaking, screaming, crying, whispering, shouting, mumbling. Her trauma, nostalgia, past, future and her thoughts. Loud!

BANG!

A gun goes off, a body goes numb. Is it hers? No. It was her emotions. They are all dead. But she never felt more alive...

2025, April 10th After countless shitty tries that I don't post here, this masterpiece got created at like what 5am in the morning after an all nighter? My writing style defiitely shows WAY more in here, and I'm actually very proud of this one.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Little girl

There was this girl who was once free. She was all of happiness, full with creativity. Had a contagious smile, it cheered you up. She used to play with her friends, then go home and curl up in bed. First day in school, new friends and faith. Faith in a way so that she could escape from her home. She would so amazing in classes. Kids would look up to her, "Gifted kid" was she then. Everyday the same question followed. "How was school?", "Anything happen?". Each time the same answer. "All's good, nothing too interesting.". Little did she know her light was fading away. School burned her out. And she didn't smile like she used to anymore. You could only find her in her room all day. No more friends, no more hangouts. Poor soul wanted to create. But when she'd try, her mind would go blank...

2024, November 30th I honestly don't remember writing this, which means it was written in school. Better than the last one and I like how I tried a new form other then the 4 line verses.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Untitled

Tires screeching, My heart is beating. Scared of the future, Of one I don't have.

Maybe I'm crazy, Left to rot in bed lately. My thoughts are loud, I can hear them shout.

First, it was quiet, Then I got tired. I had sudden anger, At myself for the hunger.

Maybe I really am crazy, Well- I am now.

So many sounds, Then none at all. Was happy for once, Then I dried out in the sun.

I was left alone, No one at "home". I became depressed, Bleeding out seemed best.

2024, somewhere in September I remember writing this in school, I was burnt out and very shitty, so I thought back to the time where I had to tape my scars from reopening... That was one hell of a phase, but it helped me to reminiscence about it.

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Take me away

Take me away from myself, Take me away from this bastard. The girl inside me has been dead, For the longest time I've been lead.

Mother' been an owner of my life, Not a single word from my mouth. My thoughts were driven by her, Said things I would never mean.

So take me away from myself, This bastard's not my own soul. Get me back to the old me, That innocent, not yet traumatised girl.

Would I be enough then? Be your Barbie, find a Ken... Have straight A's, wear pink, don't curse, Will I be enough without my personality?

Take away every inch of the real me, Crush every dream, stomp down on me. I'm just a mannequin, waiting to be dressed, Put the words in my mouth, let me spit them out, get revenge.

I seek the moment when I will speak my mind, Say all the truth about you, my words freeing themselves. I'm not stabbing your back, it's just what I think, Even though I hate you sometimes, you're my dear mother, I love you dearly.

A mother should support, give love, be there... Not you, you are only driven by my blood. Cut open my heart, bleed out my sweetness, Take me away from myself, far from this catastrophe.

Swore you will give all to me, How about love? You never cared to give. Told me I'm the greatest, then called me names, Why am I the one you take ot anger on?

I should have loved myself, now I got scars on my thighs, Maybe the things you yell after me do have an effect on me afterall. Shout all you want I don't feel anymore, Take me away from this hell.

Let me try and crawl all the way back, Let me see if there's any hope left. As I float in oblivion, lying numb in bed, Take me far from myself, so I can find a way back.

Searching for the help you never gave, I might as well do, and create a new me. As you robbed me of the chance to have one, One of those things people call reality.

The darkness comforts my now soul, I embrace it, a dear friend, the emptiness saved me. So as they pull me apart, away from myself, I don't scream, I just accept my fate.

Take me away from myself, I'd be too powerful if not crazy. Being normal just doesn't suit me, Hate me, push me away, I'm scared to see who I'd be.

Overthinking each time you say you love me, Is it really true or are you forcing it? Do not answer, it's better off this way. I have my own thoughts, if you'd really care you'd know.

They took me away from myself, Is this the way to heaven? If so, please don't take me there, Hell's been waiting, I am due there.

Will say bye as I walk on the edge, Now is the time to take my last breath. I fell to the ground, no more pain, Said good night to you mother, farewell.

I walked away from myself, as they all stare. The numb lady on the way to hell. I can still hear your cries as I walk to the gate, Never told you what you mean to me.

Hadn't had the time to be your daughter, Never meant to ruin her. This is good bye, will you stay alive? I hope you do and you redo all the wrong. Be my last at my first.

2024, October 2nd This was my first poem in english where I tried to pour out all of the things I had buried deep inside me, and that definitely shows in how messy and shitty this is... Definitely not my best work and will never be- but it's here and it's a thing

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Is love even real?

I want to be in love, feel love, experience love. Have a chance at finding "the one", feel comfortable in a relationship so I can be my true self and need no social battery with them. I try, and try but it's not working; I've had more "lovers" since I broke up with him. No one was like how it was with him, I never felt the chemistry with anyone but him. I'm desperate for the "teen love", I need that in a way no one ever needed it. I have so many love to give it's insane, so many emotions to supress and hide.

I wrote this way back in 2022- bro was over her first "breakup" even though it wasn't that- it's very complicated but I am soooooo glad that motherfucker is not in my life anymore However, this is still very much fucking real. Especially because I tried to find love everywhere since then, but I never found it, let it be because of the person or me-

So yeah, even though it's not really a poem, have this

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Bruvs how am I gonna get back the poems tat I wrote on a piece of some weird paper in school that got scrunched in my bag and then I posted it to my last blog and threw it out?

Those were THE absolute poems I've ever written, and now they are lost and I just remembered-

Anyways I am going to be typing all of my older poems here one by one... again...

[miranassoulisburriedhere]

Time for me to be an actual poet

This is one of my very not used blogs, because we kinda take things seriously here (only kinda, not really)

I overshare my feelings and problems in my poems, would very much advise to not read my stuff if you're not okay with mentions of self harm or suicide as those two are a reoccurring theme in my poems

There are no actual ways for me to do a normal into post to this blog so uhh- I might just give an overall like collection of gifs and pics with the vibe I do write most of these

Omkay- that pretty much captures my style in poems :3

Go ahead and read all of these ass poems that made me cry at 3am