Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Zanga
16
My whole iv always been called ‘too much’ Which is ironic because my entire life has never made me feel enough I talk enough, I socialise enough, I even annoy enough But I am never enough…. Do you understand? I'm an introvert's worst fear Yet hearing that could never fulfil my need for validation I talk loudly, therefore I am given a standing ovation But my loudness produces whispers of condemning nature I could say shakespeare art reformed But not to be taken to accord because of my ‘gift’ I'm silly, yes, but come on, guys lets shift a bit I mean, how am I too much? But again, never enough Then what is enough, may I ask? In this universe and the next im sure this is a question which has been begged to be answered Normal is not enough, yet above normal is too much, and therefore not enough as well In a real world filled with unrealistic expectations, it feels like the sky is not the only limit So why as a collective species define what is ‘too much’ Well i guess I am too much I feel too deeply, I talk too loud, and I laugh at max volume But is that a bad thing Well, either way I know one thing for certain That I am too much
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
Too Much
There was once a boy who walked London streets His feet hit the pavement with his face full of glee He would walk to the bakery to buy at least something But the baker, with a frown, said there was nothing But the boy, full of glee, thanked the man went outside even though his little legs could barely stand He walked to an alley near the shady of London And went to the corner where he usually slumbered He was used to this life of scraps and bones Did he ever eat a full meal? Not at all But his face was seen as happier than most Everyone wondered what the boy must be on The boys' parents died when he was only a kid He often wondered what he did to deserve it People always said he had his mother's smile So he never frowned, so he could keep her around You would think the boy would sit on the street dejected But any sadness from the boy seemed to be undetected For he would greet the ladies and the dogs happily Glee running from his face was never happening It is a shame that the boy never became a man He was so happy no one noticed his shaky hands They found him in the corner where he usually slumbered They say he died with a smile, so he would never disobey his mother Of course, everyone mourned for a day or so But later came along a new sob story to be told So forever forgotten the boy full of glee The Scrawny boy no one could see
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 2:35 PM UTC
The shade of London
When I was in 9th grade, I fell in love Went through the whole chariad We had matching necklaces In secret held each other's hands The necklaces were yin and yang Darkness and light I wore it, believing our love was worth the fight Never took it off because I knew we were right When your dark chocolate eyes were laced with mine I saw no lies when you said your heart was mine But as time flew by, I realised you did not lie It was just my heart that wasn't worth a dime I was in Grade 9 when I fell for you When I thought darkness and light could be two in one But I was too innocent, I was not a damsel in distress So your hands laced with someone else's dress I liked you best My friends can attest That I denied when they said you were in her bed But I guess two worlds can't collide, your words against mine Now laced with lies, saying there are other guys But I wanted you I was a kid, yet I knew what we had was true Now in the 12th grade Still writing of you in hidden phrases I should be over it, I know, but there are times When I look in the sky, I remember my first love The dove and the raven are destined to fall Intertwined as if fate is bored
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 2:34 PM UTC
First love
I love to spiral To drown myself in thoughts only the mad can relate to But when you ask me, I'm sorry, boo, I won’t tell you My body can shiver with self-pity You ask how I'm doing? I’ll say…. 50/50 I can have an internal breakdown. And you ask, “Why the frown?” Deep inside, I scream, help me get out But my false confidence helps me regurgitate lies Until I can literally taste the word “I'm fine” Cuz not lying makes me feel nauseous, I know being cautious will be the death of me That Macbeth can attest, you cannot outrun fate No matter how many spirals you make But I crave for stability in an unstable world Poetry is the only unchanging form of matter Therefore, it is a safe haven Each line is treated like a deep scar Disinfectant can’t attain But I'm trying to change, and I will someday But every Sunday feels like a reset Put a coin in the slot, but I guess money can’t always talk And I thought materialistic love was the remedy And to be honest, therapy isn't helping Now my two senses what made sense now cost more than 2 cents So i dont understand why I was sent here Now circles and swirls do not look so bad Maybe I fear this is all I will ever be Take this as i plea or an easy way out But your doubt will disappear when you see my inner demons sprout out Twisted and ugly And maybe I'm lucky I mean Spirals and thoughts are not lovely But I guess I will be fine
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 2:31 PM UTC
Swirls
I have a pen, but it doesn't write that well The sploches fill my paper as it mixes with my tears They seem never to end this time of the year But I keep writing regardless I write about your insensitive tone With words that one can describe as elegant About how you would call me forbidding But others dare to say you are undeserving of me And despite the blotches on my pages You have not dared to leave my mind for ages You go in circles and have the audacity to plague my dreams Is this a punishment? where I cannot beg or scream But I must wallow and write with this pen It starts and stops and starts again Been like that for a while Maybe it skips for the same reason you do The paper is an unrequited love The ink begs not to feel its touch But yet it is out of its control, so it stops writing entirely But alas, I cannot do the same with you I cannot refrain from my elegant words Because there is no other way to describe you Your imperfections are perfect to my love-blinded eyes
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 2:26 PM UTC
My Broken Pen