Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Hannah Marr Jun 2018
My poems are pretty nice, I know
These premeditated thoughts I type up
To show you a sliver of me
But you haven't met me in person

On the other side of this poem
The other side of the screen
I'm just another high school student
Plodding along with the rest

I have a few people
(like, one or two)
Who I talk to occasionally
So I can call them friends

I have a loving family
There are seven of us in the house, though
So it's a bit crowded
And crowds stress me out

I'm a bit of an introvert
So even though I hate to be lonely
I don't really mind being alone
Prefer it, actually, most of the time

In person I'm small
And a bit quiet 'till you know me
Won't talk till you show interest
Then talk your ear off in excitement

I do tend to ramble
This shows in my poetry sometimes
Mostly because I don't have chance to practice
Normal conversing behavior

I talk too fast, and too much about myself
I'm a bit annoying, to be honest
And I'm pretty absent-minded
Forgetting to eat or go to bed on occasion

In person I'm sarcastic
A bit sassy too
But I'm always scared I'll hurt someone
And at the slightest confrontation I clam up

I favor silence, and solitude
As (unhealthy) coping mechanisms
Because I hate bothering people
And will withdraw if I think I'm being irritating

In person I'm shy and solitary
In person I'm too needy and excitable
In person I'm a bit naive and lonesome
In person I'd rather die than hurt anyone

So you know my poetry—
A bit sad and fierce
With a few encouraging works thrown in—
But you haven't met me in person

h.f.m.
  Jun 2018 Hannah Marr
A Simillacrum
-- and another thing. If I
                  wanted your opinion
       don't you think I

         would      ask      you?
Hannah Marr Jun 2018
Break an empty bottle against the edge of the bar
This is your mind, jagged and—
—sharp
A loud, desperate fight me written
(Almost carelessly)
Across your snarling lips in red

Break your ribs, these hollow bones
Mend them with glue and—
—hot nails
So maybe each breath you take will be as tenuous
(As burning)
As the grip you have on your own soul

Careful, your knees are buckling
Lock them against the weight bending
Your spine, straining
Your shoulders

Paint your collar bones with stars
In honor of a sun's bright
Scorching
Core in your heaving chest

Paint rivers over your veins
In honor of the slow
Inevitable
Power pulsing just under your skin

Scrawl the thought that will never leave your tongue
On the walls of every gas station bathroom
On this endless road trip to—
The end of the world, to—
Nowhere and nothing.
Write it all, everywhere, so everyone will
Know, but
Not know you

Still your shaking hands
Clench them into fists
(You are not done here yet)

Furious soul
Fragile
Painter and canvas

Truth or dare?
(You are not merely honest, you are the Truth)
Heads or tails?
(You are not merely bold, you are the Dare)
The coin, not heads or tails.

Clear liquid in a clear bottle
Lava down your throat, in your lungs
Behind your eyes, fireworks
Burning —the edges of your mind, broken glass
Brittle —an ancient map of thought, tearing and flaking

Find the end, meet the end
Truth or Dare, a coin
Broken bottles, broken bones

Tell me, sister
Have you ever wanted scarred knees and dirt under your nails?

Tell me, brother
Have you ever wanted to kiss the moon?

h.f.m.
Hannah Marr Jun 2018
why is caring
so
hard?

especially when i am so
empathetic

i feel others' emotions
their hurt and fear and love
as if they were my own

so why can i not
bring myself to
any sort of
motivation?

it is easier by far
to let everything
sort itself out
it doesn't need
any help from me

why don't i
care?

how can such empathy
coexist with this utter
apathy?

and i know
this should bother me
but hey
guess what?
i kinda don't care

h.f.m.
  Jun 2018 Hannah Marr
Blossom
At the young age of three
My brother said to me
"I wish I got hit by a car"
My thoughts wandered far

Why would a child?
Have thoughts so vile?
I didn't comprehend
That this wasn't the end.

At the age of 14
I typed on a screen
"I want to jump off and die,
I'm ready to meet my demise"

I understood the pain
My brother held in his brain
No wonder life felt drab
When I couldn't even feel sad.

And yesterday, at 11 years
My youngest brother told me crying tears
"I want to jump off something tall
I want to die, I feel so small"

I hugged him tight
Kissed his cheek
Told him life, does seem real bleak

But these thoughts,
I've had them too
And your brother
And grandmother
And my mother
It runs in our blood
To feel so alone
But together we're strong
So please don't go.
Hannah Marr Jun 2018
do you know what

liminal
means?

liminal comes from latin
limen
meaning threshold

a place of entering or
of beginning

a fine line between the was
and will

a place of transition
waiting
unknowing

and i suppose you could say
this is liminal

this poem

this life

this concept of eternal
that we seem to attribute
to our (sadly impermanent) art

this body of mine
is so very liminal

this voice that i roll around on my tongue
is liminal

this world itself,
a blink compared to infinity
can only be said to be
a threshhold
to somewhere else

h.f.m.
Next page