Kathrine's Poetic Musings

24/11/2025

When your handwriting is perfect, they overlook the tiny mistakes. And when people decide you’re ‘perfect,’ they ignore your flaws too—because they never expect you to have any in the first place.

(Credits to the rightful owner of the picture used.)

14/09/2025

Pretty Isn’t Pretty Enough
By:

I painted my sins in a shimmer of red,
kissed my reflection ’til the glass turned to bed.
Skipped every meal, fed the hunger with smoke,
choking on silence like perfume I spoke.

Pills on my tongue like a rosary prayer,
saints in the bottle who never were there.
The mirror’s a liar, it flirts, then it sneers,
tracing my flaws with its venomous cheers.

If pretty means breaking, then I’ll break with grace,
a goddess of ruin in lace on my face.
Change up my body, my lips, and my name,
yet the ghost in the glass always whispers the same.

So cover me deeper in powders and shade,
a masquerade queen in the wreckage I made.
For pretty’s a hunger that swallows the dove —
and nothing is ever, or never, enough.
______________________________________________________________________

We paint our faces to hide the wars within, trading hunger for approval, silence for applause. Beauty becomes a mask, and the world only claps for the costume. Pretty isn’t pretty enough—but real will always be more than enough.

(PHOTO NOT MINE. CREDITS TO RIGHTFUL OWNER)

06/08/2025

Sometimes, even the ones who promise forever are the first to disappear.
Trust breaks quietly—like glass under silk steps, like shadows slipping away when the dark arrives.
This poem is for the hearts that learned not everyone who stands beside you is truly with you.

📜 Requested by Ja Ne

17/07/2025

"Stained Glass Walk"
by:

I walk where silence splits the ground,
my footsteps lost, yet never found.
Each echo rings a past undone,
beneath the weight of what I’ve run.

I wear my grace like second skin,
a fragile shell I’m breaking in.
I greet the glass with practiced eyes,
but truth still lingers in disguise.

I bloom where thorns have made their bed,
where prayers are stitched in words unsaid.
They rise like smoke, then disappear,
too faint to touch, too loud to hear.

And still, I see their hands unclean,
while mine hide stains I’ve brushed unseen.
It’s easy, isn’t it, to stand—
forgetting blood upon my hand?

Who am I, with trembling soul,
to measure hearts I can’t control?
Who dares to judge with crooked span—
when I myself walk as an imperfect man?
____

We all carry flaws the world can’t see. Before I judge, I remind myself—I, too, walk as an imperfect man. Inspired by someone whose words made me pause and think.

15/06/2025

To the men whose love often goes unspoken, yet shapes our lives in the most powerful ways—we honor you today and every day. You are the steady hands that lift us when we fall, the silent strength behind our every step, and the quiet hero we often forget to thank.

Your sacrifices may not always be seen, but they are felt—in the security of our homes, in the courage you help us build, and in the way you show up, again and again, without needing applause. You are the protector, the provider, the patient guide who teaches through action more than words.

You are not just the head of the family, but the heart behind it—the reason we feel safe, the one who stands tall so we can grow. The way you love—firm, enduring, and deep—is a kind of strength that becomes the foundation of who we are.

On this special day, we celebrate you—the quiet light in our lives, the first love of many daughters, the first hero of many sons. May you feel the pride, the love, and the gratitude of the lives you’ve shaped just by being you.

Happy Father’s Day to all the amazing dads out there—thank you for the kind of love that doesn’t need to be loud to be unforgettable. You are the home we never outgrow. 🖤🛠️

08/06/2025

I write poems like I used a knife as a pen and my skin as my paper — a silent language of pain and hope woven through scars and shadows.

Sometimes, pain is so deep that words alone don’t feel enough to express it. But hurting yourself is never the answer — there are safer ways to share your story and heal. If you or someone you know is struggling, remember: you are not alone. Reach out. Talk to someone. Your feelings matter, and help is always within reach.

07/06/2025

Softly We Change
by:

Isn’t it funny, how softly we change?
Like petals that drift when the springtime is through.
You once reached for clouds in a world wide and strange,
and now you are reaching for dreams that are new.

You fit on my shoulders, a feather, a song,
your giggles would tangle with leaves in the breeze.
But seasons kept turning, and time moved along,
and childhood has folded like sails on the seas.

I watch as you wander through pathways untold,
your eyes full of wonder, your heart full of skies.
While I keep these moments like treasures of gold,
and hum them in silence when daylight now flies.

So hush, little memory, rest in my chest,
a lullaby spun from the laughter we knew.
I’m grateful— so grateful— for having been blessed
to walk through this fleeting young world beside you.

03/06/2025

Do it With Shaking Hands
by:

The sky won’t wait for steady feet,
Nor dreams delay for hearts to beat.
The road ahead may twist and bend,
But fear is not where journeys end.

I’ve heard the tales of those who froze,
Who locked their hearts and never chose.
They speak in sighs and silent pain,
Of what was lost—their never gain.

The mountain shakes beneath my pace,
As doubt draws lines across my face.
But still I rise, one breath, one stand,
Not certain—just willing to withstand.

For even if my voice must shake,
I'll speak the words that fear can’t break.
The weight of trying lifts the soul
More than safety ever holds.

So here I go, unsure but free,
No perfect plan, no guarantee.
I won’t wait till courage lands—
I’ll simply do it with shaking hands.

02/06/2025

Feathers Beneath My Skin
by:

Stay grounded, keep roots in the clay,
But the soil grew colder with each passing day.
I whispered through storms just to feel I belong,
But silence, too often, sings the saddest song.

The mirror grew distant, a stranger stared back,
I patched up my heart where the daylight would crack.
They borrowed my fire, then left me the smoke—
A soul made of ash and words never spoke.

My cage wore a smile, a sweet little lie,
A ceiling too low for a girl made to fly.
Hope tucked in journals with pages that bled,
Each line a goodbye I never quite said.

So when I dissolve like a breath in the breeze,
Don't search for my shadow or fall to your knees.
I won't need the sky, nor echo or strings—
I'll be the hush where freedom unfolds its wings.

28/05/2025

“The Crow in the Mirror”
by:

I broke a heart at seventeen,
With words that cracked the in-between.
They fell like ash, too sharp to hold—
I watched life die, then called it bold.

A crow flew in the day it fell,
Its shadow long, its caw a knell.
It circled round the wreck I made—
A silent judge above the grave.

It perched upon my windowsill,
A mirror to my bitter will.
Each beat of wing, a breath I lost,
Each stare, a lesson, cold as frost.

You think it’s hard to swing the blade?
It’s harder living with what’s frayed.
To break is instant, sharp, and loud—
To heal is slow, and not allowed.

I fed the crow my sorry notes,
It picked at all the words I wrote.
And still it stayed, through storm and sun,
A witness to what I'd undone.

So now I walk with hands that shake,
And whisper truths I can't unmake.
The crow still follows, wing to bone—
A black reminder that I'm not alone.

“You think killing is hard? Try healing something that is hard. You can break something in two seconds, but it will take forever to fix it.”

Inspired by this quote, “The Crow in the Mirror” is more than a poem—it’s the ache of breaking what you loved, and the haunting silence that follows.

We all have our crows. Some just perch louder than others.

Send a message to learn more