i'm a mess inside and out
i'm searching for serendipity
but all i have left is drenched emotions and crumpled up papers on my floor filled with ink blots and scribbles
my eyes burn from tears
my heart aches
i shake as i pour myself another drink of whatever is left in the cabinet
i down it like the 2 tablespoons of medicine my mother used to make me take when my stomach hurt
but right now, everything hurts
they say everyone needs to feel pain
it reminds us we're alive
but if being alive is the equivalent to feeling the sharp knife in my heart over and over again
i might as well be dead
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Oh sweet temptation,
Do not be a fool,
The pills are paradise,
Payment is cruel,
Oh how I crave you,
All your seduction and sedative,
Take me to heaven's gates,
My failures have been repetitive,
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
i wrote my life in pen
mistakes can't be changed
and regrets that surround me
weren't always regrets
because i did love you once
and died at your touch
but now i die everyday
thinking of what you used to say
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
no matter what they say
or what they do
ill never find anyone
to compare
to you
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
but am i really alone?
I've got ghouls, and monsters, and demons
bottled up in me
and when everyones gone
they come out
and haunt me
they taunt the dark night
searching for anything
anyone
everything
to be with
cause they are tired of being alone
and alone is what they will always be
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
I'm studying real poets.
Shelley, Sandburg,
Frost, and Wordsworth.
Coleridge, Blake,
and William Butler Yeats.
Do you know why they're
considered real poets?
Because they made art,
not hashtag trends.
Wrote from Experience
with black quill pens.
Sure, they got high,
but wrote on instinct.
And The Road Not Taken doesn't
mean what you think.
They wrote about about life
and the world that they heard,
not ******* in the margins
of Microsoft Word.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
For the people who read this
It's not just a game
we've all got emotions
and we've all gone insane.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Little did I know
that I would spend
the majority of my time
trying to write a poem
as beautiful
as you say I am.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Everyone is so afraid of pain
but I hope I become more afraid of life each day
I want to fall in love with someone who will never love me back
I want to scream on the top of my lungs and still have no one hear me
I want to be ignored by those I want to listen
I want to fall down and feel like I'll never get back up
I want you to rip holes in my skin and leave me alone to bleed out
I want you to break every bone in my body and leave me with nothing but my ruined soul
people say it's so ****** up to be afraid,
to be hurting
but when you come home alone
and have nothing left but old photos and texts that still make you tear up
all you have is pain
if you're never hurt, you aren't living
and god **** I'd rather be in pain, then feel nothing at all
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sitting at this table
Not knowing what to write
The future of this poem,
Way out of my sight.
I struggle with each line
Not knowing what to do
I yearn to succeed,
In pleasing all of you.
I ponder on what will happen,
Will this poem be enjoyed?
I wonder who will read it,
And if they'll be annoyed.
This poem is not deep or sad
It's a poem in present time
Not meant to englighten or teach
Just a friendly rhyme.
Thank you for reading my poem
It was quite fun to create
I hope you found it humorous
Its lines not meant to hate.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC