Nothing end poetically,
it just ends.
It ends and we turn it into poetry.
We gather the wreckage,
turning shards into verses,
smoothing it out with metaphors.
All that blood shed was never pretty,
it was just red.
Staining the earth red without meaning.
Yet we write.
We write because the silence feels heavier.
Because grief demands rhythm.
Because if we dont write poems,
then it was just suffering.
Suffering without meaning.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 12:46 AM UTC
i could have loved you better
maybe i could have saved you
if i had just accepted your apology letter
maybe we could've worked out?...
i thought we were made for each other
but only like an axe is made for a tree
and ive got neither proof nor bruise left
to prove your violent tendencies
i could have fixed you. maybe...
if i had just let you hit me
but that one wrong move you made
finnaly let me see
you were my twisted perception of perfect
and i try, but ill never forget
it made me physically ill, loving you
but i can deal with the ****** nights
throwing up, thinking of you.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 12:35 AM UTC
alone in my grave
i hope nearby someone lives
a fufilling life..
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 1:23 PM UTC
poetry takes the noise out of my mind
puts it into words for me
i am not the one writing
rather, the one feeling
feeling with such intensity it hurts
in everypart of me
and when i write my poems
i take a part of that hurt
and spread it over the page
for i am not the artist
rather the art as well
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 12:59 PM UTC
yesterday didnt feel like christmas at all
it didnt start the way most christmas's do
not at all excited for the christmas haul
just wishing you hadnt died so soon
i remeber last christmas
i didnt even know you were sick
too concerned with my own bussiness
god this year has gone too quick
it didnt feel like christmas without you
going to lunch without everyone there
i had to just **** it up and make do
but i was stuck staring into your chair
next year will eventually come and
christmas will be different from now on
not how i had it planned
christmas without my grandmas son.
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 5:26 PM UTC
Lets see
The problem with me
Are my bones
And my chest
just to add, my shoulders
Make me feel like a mess.
My voice doesn't sound like mine at all
And I wish I could be a bit more tall
The look of my face
makes me want to scratch it off,
- you mean to tell me that's not everyone's thoughts.
I can't quite find the right words to pick
But I know this body makes me sick
Dysphoria isn't just a game, I feel
how I can look at it without having to kneel
not even my hands are right for me
Sometimes this body, I can't even see
so i take a blade and cut my skin
Till blood comes out, makes my head spin
At least that way I can gain some control
Over my pain - not over my soul
My soul doesn't fit this body I'm in
Maybe if I'd get rid or grew out of this skin
take a new form of something else
I would, even if it ment going to hell
I know everyone feels unwell at times
But I feel like im fighting my own suicide
Not just today or the day before
I feel like this at my very core
Not being born at all would have been a greater joy,
But if I were to choose, I'd choose to be born a boy.
Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 8:30 PM UTC
Roses aren't always red,
Violets aren't perfectly blue,
This society we live in,
Never seems to tell the truth.
Chaos swirls like autumn leaves,
In streets where dreams decay,
Voices drown in hollow noise,
As hope begins to fray.
Promises are painted smiles,
And emptiness runs deep,
We grapple with the shards of trust,
In nights that steal our sleep.
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 3:57 PM UTC
if no one ever likes it
can u still call it art?
if no one understands
is it ok to fall apart?
if i really wanted help
would i know where to start?
if i had no choice
am i a bad person?
if i keep repeating the same patterns
am i ever really learning?
if i keep trying will i get better
or just eventually worsen?
what if all i want
are things ive never had?
what if all i am
are the words on the ******* notepad?
what if all i will ever feel
is just sad?
so tell me does it get better
or will it be the same forever?
tell me does it work out
or have a wasted a lifetime of endevours?
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 3:51 PM UTC
I won't be able to write
once down in my grave
I'll have no more words
- none at all to say
at least I'll be free
of this cruel world
no one to question
things I've learned
maybe once in my grave
people might read
the poems I write
I won't be there to see
I hope you remember
me through words
not just the ones written down
but the ones you've heard
I'll be stuck in one place
once in my grave
but maybe not as stuck
as I feel today
please visit my grave
with flowers or words
maybe you'll write a poem
that I wish I could've heard
Dec 15, 2025
Dec 15, 2025 at 7:03 PM UTC
Each morning i rise
Ghost in the daylight
With half open eyes
Hiding in plain sight
I wish for the darkness
For the silence to keep
I wake into life
Only wishing for sleep
Sleep then awake
A waste of time
I await for sleep
already dead inside
The cycle of death
Is ever repeating
Drifting through hours
Heart faintly beating
I dream of an ending
A relief from the fight
Sleep calls me home
The pain out of sight
Wake up, sleep, repeat
I beg for release
Searching for something
That will bring me peace
The cycle of death
Is on repeat
Forever turning
The world offbeat
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 8:55 PM UTC