Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Slenderpoet
Slenderpoet
17/M/Oxford, UK Insomniac, writer, musician, dreamer, disillusioned idealist / https://www.instagram.com/slenderpoet/
There are no right roads, just the ones you regret the least.
0
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
Roads
For some, Life hits like a truck. For others: A thousand papercuts.
0
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 8:30 AM UTC
Papercuts
Depression: Its like a musician gone deaf or a handless artist You can remember where the joy was But it's gone from you Forever
0
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 3:29 AM UTC
Depression
If earth were a prison, Some of us are misbehaving angels; Others: Demons on parole.
0
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 7:03 PM UTC
Angels and Demons
Love is like taxis They're everywhere when you don't need it But nowhere to be found when you do
0
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 7:53 PM UTC
Love
The Wolf runs not with dogs
0
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
The Wolf
Time is the greatest thief
0
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
TIME
When people die we sleep in graves— Where do memories go when they die? To the same place where broken dreams go? Where the sky is dark: no up, no down, no before, no after? To the land of could-have-beens, Where lost souls wander, where the deathless cry? Or to a land beneath a lilac sky, To some sweet place in a far green country, by a river at the edge of night? Where the crownless are king, And the wingless fly?
0
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:22 PM UTC
Dead dreams
If only we could freeze time, capture a single moment, Like a dew on a green leaf, Like a winter flower that blooms every twenty years, That dies ere the sun rises again. Instead we must endure: Growing up too fast, pretending to be men, Fly on and on like a bird born without legs. Slave a lifetime for a single dollar— Go screaming into the good night, Burn out like a falling star.
0
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC
If only
The traveller comes home, The wanderer returns— But reality is not a book. When you go back, be prepared: For sad eyes and gravesides and greying hair. For those ***** gone, for those who were never here, For crayons lost and empty chairs, For keys that don’t fit and slamming doors. Those you’ve left behind, and those who stopped waiting… Those still waiting for you, and those you’re still waiting for.
0
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
Homecoming