Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
sleek
Poems2
Followers1
Words209
Sometimes I feel like my mind is spinning so much I can’t figure out what to say and when I finally do the words I spit out are rotting on a once-pure page Infectious and greedy as that ugliness spreads like weeds marking the damages it dissipates into the darkness my soul feeds sonnets filled with sins ***** poetry I spin like a dream but all I see is darkness as it fills my mind heart and soul to the brim seeping onto my skin light shining through a cloud my scars a clear reminder of the pain I refuse to allow never say out loud I know I promised I know I vowed but the silver is already in my hand and there is already blood now -S.L.K
0
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 5:05 PM UTC
My words
Sometimes I feel like my mind is spinning so much I can’t figure out what to say and when I finally do the words I spit out are rotting on a once-pure page Infectious and greedy as that ugliness spreads like weeds marking the damages it dissipates into the darkness my soul feeds sonnets filled with sins ***** poetry I spin like a dream but all I see is darkness as it fills my mind heart and soul to the brim seeping onto my skin light shining through a cloud my scars a clear reminder of the pain I refuse to allow never say out loud I know I promised I know I vowed but the silver is already in my hand and there is already blood now -S.L.K
Continue reading...
17
Hate is never describes as pretty Never looked at like a blooming flower Sprouting life into the ground Bringing fresh air into the sky For the wind to carry high Hate is never described as a butterfly Every flap of flight signed by grace and beauty with a ballpoint pen Every color a screenshot of pure emotion Every movement architected to perfection modeling God’s holy touch Hate is always described as Ocean waves washing you down to deeper waters until your dying in the very thing you need to live Or thorns and weeds growing in a garden, attacking every plant like they are thoughts in my mind Or fire spreading and growing and burning everything it touches, flames licking at my body till I’m ash Hate is always described as poisonous, cruel, evil, Because that is the way it makes you feel Hate is really a sculpture Every line shows something new Every curve a double meaning Every smile hiding something cold Every eye revealing something untold Hate is the sculpture and the sculptor Mastermind of its own masterpiece no one sees the flower in the fire that burns in my soul No one sees the roots in the deep wading water threatening to take hold If hate was a fire, we wouldn’t allow it to control Hate blooms and blossoms into our life slowly It starts as a fleeting thought Planting roots in your mind Then your questions becomes answers A system stems and builds leaves of loathing that infiltrates your heart The despise desperately develops in the depths below my diaphragm And a flower of hate blooms from a beating heart I don’t even want beating anymore Hatred is a flower. It blooms it doesn’t seize It grows roots so deep Twisting and turning around every ***** every emotion, every thought Until it’s impossible to **** it without killing yourself Hatred is a flower and it makes you into soil Decaying in despise and detest of love Until body deflates in the darkness of your soul -S.L.K.
0
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 5:03 PM UTC
The art of hating yourself
Hate is never describes as pretty Never looked at like a blooming flower Sprouting life into the ground Bringing fresh air into the sky For the wind to carry high Hate is never described as a butterfly Every flap of flight signed by grace and beauty with a ballpoint pen Every color a screenshot of pure emotion Every movement architected to perfection modeling God’s holy touch Hate is always described as Ocean waves washing you down to deeper waters until your dying in the very thing you need to live Or thorns and weeds growing in a garden, attacking every plant like they are thoughts in my mind Or fire spreading and growing and burning everything it touches, flames licking at my body till I’m ash Hate is always described as poisonous, cruel, evil, Because that is the way it makes you feel Hate is really a sculpture Every line shows something new Every curve a double meaning Every smile hiding something cold Every eye revealing something untold Hate is the sculpture and the sculptor Mastermind of its own masterpiece no one sees the flower in the fire that burns in my soul No one sees the roots in the deep wading water threatening to take hold If hate was a fire, we wouldn’t allow it to control Hate blooms and blossoms into our life slowly It starts as a fleeting thought Planting roots in your mind Then your questions becomes answers A system stems and builds leaves of loathing that infiltrates your heart The despise desperately develops in the depths below my diaphragm And a flower of hate blooms from a beating heart I don’t even want beating anymore Hatred is a flower. It blooms it doesn’t seize It grows roots so deep Twisting and turning around every ***** every emotion, every thought Until it’s impossible to **** it without killing yourself Hatred is a flower and it makes you into soil Decaying in despise and detest of love Until body deflates in the darkness of your soul -S.L.K.
Continue reading...
41