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I'm about to go insane,
Because of this pain.
I keep thinking of things,
That would become my sin.
It's hard, I'm getting tired.
Terence Chinnery
The greatest loss I feel
Is not for that which has been taken from me,
But that which I've given away too cheaply.
Mum says “light a candle, burn some incense”
but mum my inner sense is the only thing stopping me from burning myself to the ground because I can’t stand the light anymore.

Nan says “your'e too bright to be depressed”
but the bright sparks that flicker of a memory that is dark, and the flame only reminds me that everybody I love is someday gonna die.
But mum..... nan...... i’m not afraid of the dark, that’s the problem.

It’s hard to have fun when i don't feel like having fun.
Don’t get me wrong it’s not that i don’t want to go to the party,
I WANT to go to the party,
but i’m stuck in an abusive relationship with depression and anxiety and they talk me out of going.
Cancel plans last minute, making up a physical illness,
because "sorry I'm too depressed to see u" sounds utterly ridiculous.
Dennis Willis
I've listened too long to
I've prolonged this too effortless
I've longed and longed

You've been lovely
You've been taking my breath
You've been almost almost mine
Michael Stefan
Muddy boots and snow thawing
Next to central fireplace
A heat that bakes the ***** floor
A floor to which we all walk
Day in and day out
As leaves fall from trees
Until the day
We lay face-up
With hands folded
As we return back to
This dark baked clay
Abigail Sandquist
People want to think I’m alright I think they’re afraid
Afraid that I’m not alright they want me to take my sadness to the grave.
Why do people do that? Why do they see depression as a taboo?
It’s seen as a curse if it happens to you.
It makes people uncomfortable to say you have depression.
I want people to be kind to other people and ask those hard questions.
It’s hard enough having depression and feeling like you have no one to talk to.
Don’t make it worse and get angry it’s not their fault. What if it happened to you?
You wouldn’t like people yelling especially after you self harmed you’d feel bad enough.
So I implore you to be gentle with us. For us it’s been rough.
Sometimes the light
Isn't enough to out the dark
Sometimes silence
Isn't enough to bring peace
Sometimes fear
Isn't enough of a warning
Sometimes finding someone to love
Isn't enough
Reach the light
Look at stars,
They are so far
I catch a shooting star
to burn fire
in my heart.

I know what I want
In me, someone
tryna be number 1 #
be the only one
great as the sun.
I know it's so hard
a pillar wish to fly,
the winds wants to find
where it belongs.
Nothing will be wrong
to follow what we love
And I'll be strong
to reach the light.
I haven't written a poem for long time
in life there're a lot of things to carry and I was kinda confused.
Madeline Jolene
when i fell in love
it was not because i was searching
for a soul to patch my wounds
but instead because
you were the first person
that i have ever wanted
to make permanent in my life

but once you wake up,
from the dream that is her,
i will not be your reality anymore.
Mr Shankley
I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.
Jon York
Inside you

is where I want to



within the folds

of your mind


the sweet softness

of your soul,


as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.
Insecurity is a fast acting disease.
Pouring into every cell,
thickening the lens,
distorting view.
Erupt in jealousy,
tension fills the chest, breathing deep feels sharp.

Pick at their flaws,
make them feel small, tempt them to inch down to your level.
Do what you can, in every desperate attempt,
But the self disgust still radiates off your skin.

The unjustified hatred will
consume you,
convince you,
that you truly are the victim.

But it is merely a sickness that will eat you away.
sulking. a verb. to be silent, to be bad-tempered out of annoyance or just disappointment.
basically just another word for sad or depressing.. just bring everyone else down
trying to figure out how someone would describe you that way.. to a point they don't want to be around you anymore
go back to covering it up it might help you..
maybe even get your friends back..
just think about it..
Chani Goldstein
Although I have
Nothing to say
I still want
To sit quietly
By your side
And take in
Our love
Hank Helman
It can't be

That I will spend an entire life,
Begging for love,
Confused by anger,
Afraid of frowns,
Eager to blame,
Bored with myself,
Waking up dead,

Can it?
I tried to sneak up on myself. Tip toed. Didn't work.
Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
You worry,
Yet you hurry
The inner thought
Which meant to be sought.
The peace stems from the solace,
in finding the lines to your worries.
it's been a while
I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.
Its either
Chaos, contagion, or comatose
They weigh in
find a way to
No Matta what
I know you.
Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because
I know you.
That’s what this is. I know you,
And I want you,
And I care about you
Don’t want no one else.
You might not know me,
The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you,
In the darkness,
In the night,
But I know you.
And I want you anyway.
Life had to be hard to live the great one
It is just a process of fortifying one
They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
Himangshu Singh
is heaven the rainbow
and hell the rain
for when I love the heaven
i fall for hell.
i love the rainbow but rain manages to keep all my notice
He used to
park his rusty red
near the riverside where you
tend to walk
chat talk
to the world
He used to serve the most
passionate Latte
One day you recognised
a delicate
bird on the foam
He used to park near the riverside
and still does
Art is patient and perseveres through times where there's seemingly no audience :)
Crystal Freda
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
Daisy Ashcroft
is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.
i write these things to express what i hide
ive used my words ive really tried
it never works
it always blows up like fireworks
ive tried a diary but it was like talking
it only sounds like im mocking
so instead of a dairy i write poems
no one can understand them unless they feel the same
if they do there is no shame
its easier to express how i feel
it always seems to help me heal
some understand certain poems but not all
if they feel the same or can relate in someway they connect the dots on the wall
A friend told me to make a poem about writing and this came to mind not the best but it was fun
I texted you last night
Turns out I’m still blocked
I just wanted to tell you
My worlds been rocked

I had a dream we were together
Went on a perfect date
But I woke up alone
Cause your feelings were fake

I can’t text you if I need help
Cant kiss you when I’m lonely
I just wish I’d given you the chance
To really, truly know me
Thomas W Case
There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.
I poured myself
inside your cup
pretended to be tea
your lips pursed to the rim
burning kiss
bile churns
you forgot
I'm made of sins
rig f laurel
when i died the first time
inhaling an ocean
they said
this was not the plan
turn back.

and when i did
i tried to fly with no lessons
nor wings
and they called me

but i came round
and sought a chainsaw
and then a mermaid
and then death herself
i think she was

and each time
they said the same thing
over and over and over and over:
wrong destiny. wrong destiny.
go again.

the instructions are in a language i do not possess.
Luna Maria
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
Would it not be wonderful if all human beings on Earth came to understand that each is as divine as the other--indeed, that all, all creations in the infinite Cosmos are imbued by their maker with the same indelibible divineness of their same maker?

There are an estimated 4,300 "different" religions on Earth, each praying to the same God, but calling their same God different names.

Yet, there can be only one maker of the infinite Cosmos.

Why, therefore, do we contine this false notion, this illusion, through millennia, fighting wars over these illusory differences, killing millions and millions and millions of other human beings because we are unwilling to see truth, let alone embrace it?

These fake differences at best keep all of us on Earth separate, divided, and thus cause us tragically to see those of us with different skin colors, different physical features, using different languages and dialects, having different customs, at best appearing different from ourselves, and at worst, instigating untold killings of "others."

If ever you saw a beautiful painting, no doubt you would see in it many differences:  colors, forms, shapes, contours, all of which collectively you might find at the least interesting, at most beautiful.

But what if you saw only a white canvass with nothing on it?

Would you find that beautiful, engrossing, mesmerizing, even to any extent satisfying?

But this is the canvass racists, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, white nationalists, the KKK, the Proud Boys, and so many others like them, want hanging in their houses.

Hate, unconsciously of themselves because the were never loved, is their religion. And just like their religious forebearers of the Middle Ages, they are now fighting their Crusades against others who appear different from themselves, but ironically and tragically are not.

He's broken and lame
played but lost the game
destroys himself in flame
sorry that he even came.
Bleeds to death at the pool
shot like a useless mule.
Mitch Prax
To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
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