It's 3 in the morning,
You still don't love me
And I am too alone
Listening to sad songs
Waiting for a miracle
It's 3 in the morning,
I still want to die
Because no one really cares
In the end I'll be
Just another sad story
It's 3 in the morning,
But nothing feels right
Because I am drained and empty
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I wanted to write a poem of you
But couldn't find the words.
I'm so distressed, too depressed
And now my stomach hurts.
I could not tell you how I feel
Even if I tried.
I turn around and life's upsidedown;
I really want to cry.
Too many things I want to say
But I always stop myself.
So I won't get deep, there is no need.
We'll only keep jokes off the shelf.
I wanted to write a poem of you
But couldn't find the words.
So here it goes, I suppose:
You are my favorite nerd.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
i used to be more happy. i used to make them notes made up of hearts and "i love yous". i used to take the time to make cds of songs that reminded me of him, or spray my perfume on my favorite bear so he could have something to hold at night. i used to never fail to send a "goodmorning sunshine" text or never hesitate to pour my heart out. i wasnt afraid to dream of a future together or write them poetry. but one by one they picked the petals off of me and left me hallow and bare. and the only thing i have to look foward to is maybe a "goodbye" when the next decides to leave.
my, you're so unbareable
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
Fragile world,
How I love to watch
You spin away.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Imagine a scene
Tiny me, at the age of nine
Understanding I don't wish to live.
I tried to commit suicide
For the next 4 years time.
Picture a girl
Near genius; she's bright.
For some reason staying up
Crying all night.
Not doing well in school
Nobody thinks she's cool
And my dad just says
"Quit acting like a baby, you fool."
In my high school years
I just accepted sadness
As a part of my life.
Grew too tired of the
"why aren't you all right?"
and the occasional
"you're too smart to be acting that way"
Create in your head
Me, who is passionate
About poetry. Only because
It became my method of venting.
For some reason i thought
I was a burden, to all of my friends.
Better sad than disturb them
With my troubles.
It's the mess my room is
And the disintrest to everything
The self hate, sleeping late, and fatigue
That makes up the depression in me.
It's nobody understanding why I cry
Or why I don't take the time
To talk about my problems.
It's the not knowing myself
And looking at my reflection in the mirror
Only to say to her
"You're so ******* pathetic."
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Momma never taught me
how to mend a broken heart.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
She is too comfortable
With how well the noose
Sits around her neck
Waiting for her to
Finally release built up
Agony.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
If we were painted on a canvas
I imagine you made of warm colors,
Pastels shaping your soft cheeks.
And in the backgroud of dust and charcoal
You find me creating a path to ruin it all.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Though I always wonder how
Difficult it would have been
To remind me how
Beautiful you thought I am
Or that my eyes touched your soul.
Though now I wonder if
The excuses you made
Were worth us losing each other.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
I'm still trying
to figure out
how one person
can be a thunderstorm
and sunshine
at the same time
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC