Koukla - Hello Poetry

Why do I stay inside all day? The sun don’t feel the same This sadness is ... Part of me, I’ve never known life without it Keeping me under, deep away from the light A beating to my skull, I will never be good enough Some days are manageable, I quiet the hate in my mind and go about my day These days could not be worse, I cannot move I sit alone, afraid of how others will deal with my burden failure, rude, not putting myself out there Just a few names they pin to me During the days I can let myself breath, I think maybe just maybe I’ve broken from the grasp I will be able to live freely It’s a short lived high. But I know I’ll never be right It’s so hard to live But they told me it only gets better But the sun still doesn’t feel the same from inside.

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Sep 14, 2018

Sep 14, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC

Koukla

My 'Good' Days

Why do I stay inside all day? The sun don’t feel the same This sadness is ... Part of me, I’ve never known life without it Keeping me under, deep away from the light A beating to my skull, I will never be good enough Some days are manageable, I quiet the hate in my mind and go about my day These days could not be worse, I cannot move I sit alone, afraid of how others will deal with my burden failure, rude, not putting myself out there Just a few names they pin to me During the days I can let myself breath, I think maybe just maybe I’ve broken from the grasp I will be able to live freely It’s a short lived high. But I know I’ll never be right It’s so hard to live But they told me it only gets better But the sun still doesn’t feel the same from inside.

23

He saw the best in me I gave my best to him He got the best of me I wasn’t ‘the best for him’

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Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC

Koukla

The Best is Yet to Come

He saw the best in me I gave my best to him He got the best of me I wasn’t ‘the best for him’

4

Bearded man on a dock who exists just to talk, What is your purpose today? How do you make others stay? Old fellow over here, What in life makes you cheer? Special riches or foreign places? I only see familiar faces. Please, my humble traveler passing by, I beg you to help me taste our blue sky. This life has been terribly unfair There is not much more that I can bare. Oh Mister please don't leave me behind, Each minute is my exceeded time. I come to you for counseling and closure I'm not ready for this life to be over.

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Aug 12, 2018

Aug 12, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC

Koukla

Help Me Fly

Bearded man on a dock who exists just to talk, What is your purpose today? How do you make others stay? Old fellow over here, What in life makes you cheer? Special riches or foreign places? I only see familiar faces. Please, my humble traveler passing by, I beg you to help me taste our blue sky. This life has been terribly unfair There is not much more that I can bare. Oh Mister please don't leave me behind, Each minute is my exceeded time. I come to you for counseling and closure I'm not ready for this life to be over.

16

Darkness is funny in the ways he works. I feel him embrace me from behind, like old friend's surprises In a room full of fresh bright and clean faces, I only recognize one There will be only him to run back to. I picked the name as darkness arbitrarily. He goes by loss, despair, many others he doesn't want me to say I try to ditch him, to unfriend this glitch in my normality, turn every corner looking for a way to unhook myself from this line I use him as he engulfs me, intensely scales as I excuse myself from dinner. He doesn't leave, turning to faces surround me he will be there A stench of a disaster, stains on holy clothes, we will not be separate The days I have without him are short, warm, comforting There's that word, I burn uneasy from that name than I do of my old friend He knows how to cloth me willed days to be long, lost and cold. I run to find the ease of unhappiness and solitude day in and day fall I don't mean to be rude, I must go, I'm in need of darkness.

0

Aug 11, 2018

Aug 11, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC

Koukla

My Old Friend

Darkness is funny in the ways he works. I feel him embrace me from behind, like old friend's surprises In a room full of fresh bright and clean faces, I only recognize one There will be only him to run back to. I picked the name as darkness arbitrarily. He goes by loss, despair, many others he doesn't want me to say I try to ditch him, to unfriend this glitch in my normality, turn every corner looking for a way to unhook myself from this line I use him as he engulfs me, intensely scales as I excuse myself from dinner. He doesn't leave, turning to faces surround me he will be there A stench of a disaster, stains on holy clothes, we will not be separate The days I have without him are short, warm, comforting There's that word, I burn uneasy from that name than I do of my old friend He knows how to cloth me willed days to be long, lost and cold. I run to find the ease of unhappiness and solitude day in and day fall I don't mean to be rude, I must go, I'm in need of darkness.

18

What is considered trying anymore? Is it buying lunch for a friend or making sure they got home safe or being someone they can lean on in hard times I'd like to think I try I try to be the person I wish I had I try to make sure the few close to me feel the love I wish I could receive. I start the conversations, I want them to share with me, allow me to enter their lives But when I stop talking, in hopes they are interested by me, I receive silence The hours go by with silence dominating the conversation no more questions, no more laughs I sit wondering why why I am not loved. What makes me the outsider Why is it so hard for me to be met with interest instead of silence They see my tired eyes Red and puffy and down turned smile but yet All I only receive questions from the silence No one cares about me

0

Aug 11, 2018

Aug 11, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC

Koukla

//Silence

What is considered trying anymore? Is it buying lunch for a friend or making sure they got home safe or being someone they can lean on in hard times I'd like to think I try I try to be the person I wish I had I try to make sure the few close to me feel the love I wish I could receive. I start the conversations, I want them to share with me, allow me to enter their lives But when I stop talking, in hopes they are interested by me, I receive silence The hours go by with silence dominating the conversation no more questions, no more laughs I sit wondering why why I am not loved. What makes me the outsider Why is it so hard for me to be met with interest instead of silence They see my tired eyes Red and puffy and down turned smile but yet All I only receive questions from the silence No one cares about me

26

I despise social media. It's ugly, to state the obvious Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be. It starts with a few edits doesn't it, pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed, that would seem most acceptable right? Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist. More reassurance for brighter colors. Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends Another like Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to Another like We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success, Another like But what are we enjoying? Another like Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view. Another like Events pass by swipe Another like and swipe Another like And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp We always come back Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings For without this world, maybe eyes will open We will step past the boundaries, and start to love our beings unfiltered

0

Aug 10, 2018

Aug 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC

Koukla

Social Media is the Devil of the Functioning Society

I despise social media. It's ugly, to state the obvious Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be. It starts with a few edits doesn't it, pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed, that would seem most acceptable right? Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist. More reassurance for brighter colors. Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends Another like Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to Another like We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success, Another like But what are we enjoying? Another like Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view. Another like Events pass by swipe Another like and swipe Another like And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp We always come back Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings For without this world, maybe eyes will open We will step past the boundaries, and start to love our beings unfiltered

32

I was birthed into darkness An aura inside isn't right I was constructed from darkness A broken down youth resurrected as a hopeless adult I am surrounded by my darkness A spotlight that is a black hole I join others Laugh, connect, smiles all around I have to distance myself I hide, I cry, I am rude and ungrateful I have also felt the need to leave Flying, soaring, far They clip my wings Judge, condemn, shame me for 'not putting myself out there' I'm trying my hardest To be happy, to enjoy, to find a purpose the hate drives me back to my place I cannot leave and I only see darkness on my horizon

0

Aug 10, 2018

Aug 10, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC

Koukla

New Days Don't Happen to People like Me

I was birthed into darkness An aura inside isn't right I was constructed from darkness A broken down youth resurrected as a hopeless adult I am surrounded by my darkness A spotlight that is a black hole I join others Laugh, connect, smiles all around I have to distance myself I hide, I cry, I am rude and ungrateful I have also felt the need to leave Flying, soaring, far They clip my wings Judge, condemn, shame me for 'not putting myself out there' I'm trying my hardest To be happy, to enjoy, to find a purpose the hate drives me back to my place I cannot leave and I only see darkness on my horizon

18

I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems. Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works Today, I feel weightless useless would be best fit As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life. I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years. I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause. This time, stopping and starting as I please.

0

Jul 31, 2018

Jul 31, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC

Koukla

I Won a Mathematics Award in the 5th Grade

I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems. Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works Today, I feel weightless useless would be best fit As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life. I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years. I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause. This time, stopping and starting as I please.

14