My inner demons have looked me in the eyes for the last time yesterday.
They screamed, clawed the floor for help.
They pointed to my head, my heart and my stomach as they are all golden like they once were.
I named them all after bad habits and bad addictions.
Their eyes are red and their skin is black. They never spoke, but one of them told me in a soft voice, 'I hope it all works out for you.'
Thank you, guilt. I hope so, too.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Effortless it used to be,
now it's a constant strain
You used to be on the same page with me
now i wonder if we are even a part of the same story?
**How rude of days and nights to pass completely oblivious of our pain
How audacious of me to think it was you who the stars told me about**
Closest you used to be,
now there is always an unseen barrier in between
I used to be your home once
But now I'm just a noose you cant free yourself from
**How rude of me to say "it's been a tough day" for a year now
How thoughtful of you to pretend it's not because of the sweet nothings you have been feeding me**
A day dream turned to reality, you were
Now i realised some things can only be loved from a far
I used to wish your hands never leave mine
But now i just wish you happiness, no matter who you choose to share it with
**How rude of stars to be so out of my reach
How tragic of our story that they are closer to me than you'll ever be.**
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
I want your hello, goodbye, and everything in between
I'll be your king if you be my queen
I'll show you things unseen
And sing you things unheard
We'll never get bored
Because we'll travel
Until the clothes on our backs unravel
I asked you to join me on an adventure at the beach
But I promise I won't be clingy like a leach
Meet me at six
So you can give me my fix
Because I'm fixated
So don't be frustrated
We'll bring the horizon
Either you can orican
And we will
Because I think you're straight ill
And I'll do whatever just to give you your fill
Stay like a tattoo
Because I need you like, stat too
Because with out you things seem askew
You didn't expect the question but my bandana knew
You're a cutie pie so around you flies flew
If it's finders keepers
Then I'm glad I have such sharp peepers
So sharp they'll pop your heart
But can you feel mine?
If you can that's fine
With it beating so hard it's hard not to
Cause when I saw you I thought ooh
And I'm so glad I caught you
Looking at me
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Dying
Because
I
Thought
I
Deserved
A
Chance
To
Live
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
My words are followed with an echo.
Not the magnificent kind.
Not the kind of echo you hear when you reach the top of a tall mountain – that reiteration of your accomplished hollers.
It’s waking up moments before your alarm sounds, or tossing and turning to the quiet that surrounds you at 3am.
It’s the silence that answers you when you finish a voicemail, or the sneeze that was left without a “bless you”.
It’s almost sad.
Almost lonely.
Not lonely in the sense of being abandoned or misunderstood.
But lonely.
The feeling of literal loneliness.
Some only feel it in whiffs.
A temporary rush.
Something people only notice for a second, if even at all.
But the constant – the continuous state of that silence – causes it to become a feeling.
That feeling that no one’s there.
No one’s listening.
Just me and my echo.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
People of all ages sitting in a circle staring at the ground, ceiling, etc. a few twitching.
"Hi, I'm Fred."
"Hi Fred"
"I started this group because I found that I was on Hello Poetry 24/7. I got an account and I loved it. At first I was only on a little, posting one or two poems a day. But I loved it so much I began spending more time on it. It became a problem when I was fired for focusing on Hello Poetry instead of the heavy machinery I was operating. I was drinking so much coffee so I didn't have to sleep that I couldn't think straight. I began writing strange poems about adhesive sloths and grapes. My wife threatened to leave me if I didn't delete my account. I tried to stay off it but, it didn't work out. My wife took my kids and told me that I was too irresponsible. I responded with a limerick. She was very mad and left immediately after. I really want to stop being addicted to Hello Poetry and when I asked I got an overwhelming response from people who felt the same. If everyone could please introduce themselves in a clockwise direction."
"Hi… I'm… um… kittylover682"
"Hi kittylover682"
"So… I used to have a name, but now I can only remember my screen name. In fact, that is really the only part of my identity that remains. I miss obsessing over kitties and petting them, but now I just spend all my time on Hello Poetry. I used to have such a kitty-full life! I had so much potential! i made friends with every type of kitty, even new ones, i never discriminated. I met persian kitties, and alley kitties and tabby kitties and I went and pet them and showed them love… then i got kicked out of people's houses for sneaking in to pet their kitties… but my point is, kitties were my LIFE! And now, my life revolves around that little lightening bolt and i can only seem to speak in metaphors. That lightning bolt is the death of my heart, the thorn in my side, the electricity that warps my body and it just… it is a storm inside of my life. The agony when i see that my lightning bolt is not lit up with a notification… it is an undying fiery hell within my soul. I makes me want to… to… well, it makes me consider leaping off of cliffs or in front of trains… but the only thing that stops me is the hindering idea that I may have to get off of hello poetry for a few moments to go do that so I remain, under my bed on my computer, posting poetry, reading poetry, commenting, liking, reposting… its a VICIOUS CYCLE!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!!!!”
“Hi I’m DaPoet”
“Hi DaPoet”
“Like, kittylover682 I had a different name, but this is MUCH cooler. I don’t think I have a problem, because who says there is anything wrong with being a poet? Also I’m not a normal poet. All of my poems are also raps. I’m here because my mom thinks I have a problem. Apparently choosing poetry over sleep and school is not okay. I don’t understand her ‘logic’”
“Hi I’m DYING”
“Hi Dying”
“No, that’s not my name, who CARES what my name is?! I’m only still here and not on Hello Poetry right now because my sister has chained me to this chair and bolted it to the floor. She thinks I need help but I AM DYING! I need to get on it! I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM! I’M FINE! I’M FINE! GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”
“Please calm down.”
“Shut up Fred!
There once was a man named Fred,
who got it into his stupid head,
that people needed to be cured,
of the obsession with the written word,
and as soon as I get unchained FRED IS GOING TO BE DEAD!”
“Okay… please stop creating violent limericks on the spot. We have all been there, there IS a way out.”
“I DON’T WANT A WAY OUT! I HATE TO SHOUT, BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT YOU ARE A BIG DUMB LOUT!”
“Okay, stop making really ****** rhymes please.”
“Well then… GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”
“Okay… let’s just move on. We’ll come back to you. Next person, please go on, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut. Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver, after all.”
“Hi I’m…Sally”
“Excuse me, could you put down your phone while you introduce yourself?”
“No… Oh my gosh, Poetry is Life started trending!”
“I’m sorry what?”
“My fourth latest poem started trending!”
“YAY!” everyone claps and congratulates Sally
“No. No more Hello Poetry. We are supposed to stop obsessing over poetry and be cured from this addiction.”
“I don’t want to be cured.”
“I love Hello Poetry”
“Why don’t we change this to a spoken word club!”
“Yes!”
“Hi I’m DaPoet and I declare this a new spoken word club!”
“YAY!”
“No no no! I created this to-” Sally clubs Fred in the head with her phone and he drops dead
“YAY! FRED IS DEAD!”
“He was hit in the head”
“And we are now free”
“To write continuous poetry!”
“And become more obsessed instead!”
The end.
REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
I have just stumbled upon
400 Love Letters.
Yet, I have no idea who they are from.
Their intended audience varies,
to family, strangers, friends and lovers.
To bosses', acquaintances, and crushes.
Quite possibly, maybe, even addressed to me.
In essence this verse could even be construed as a confession of love.
My love for the person who has decided to pen these 400 love letters.
More essentially, it is a confession of gratitude, also directed
at the person from which love flows so freely.
Thank you for giving love, when I wasn't sure it existed.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
i.
I don't know if I actually liked you or not because I forced emotions onto you during a time that I was trying to figure my own heart out. I'm sorry for that, but you were always a ****** person. I should've listened to them, cause if I would ever love any boy it never would've been you.
ii.
You were the chocolate chunks in mint ice cream and the stars in the sky. You were sweet and spicy and you were unforgettable. I didn't love you, but god **** you were beautiful. I'm not sure if your hair or heart burned brighter. Maybe it was me once you threw me in the fire.
iii.
It's because of you that I feel no shame in who I kiss or **** or love or write for, even if you used to be the cause of my guilt after we broke up. You made brown eyes my favorite. You taught me that I need to carry my own weight, and you taught me how to love. You will always have my heart. It'll always be you I write poems for on the back of napkins and the middle of chemistry notes, no matter how much trust you make me lose in you. I love you still.
iv.
You made me hate anyone with a name beginning with the letter A. I still think about how you and you friends wished I would've swallowed pills in handfuls. You made me fall apart the day I figured out that you ****** her, and the day you were able to tell me you stole her. You'll be the first to know if I live to 28.
v.
I will forever regret how I used you. You're lovely. You really, really are. Maybe I should've listened to you and not gone back to her, but I might not be where I am now if I hadn't. I wish we could still speak.
vi.
I still admire you. You made me write some of the sweetest, shortest poems. You'll never know they were for you.
vii.
I'm sorry, but not really. I would never love you or **** you and you knew that.
viii.
You're someone I'll always be confused about. I think I might've loved you, but I'm not sure how much of my feelings were genuine. I faked a lot with you. Things like ******* and laughter and feelings didn't come too easy. I'll never forget how you thought you were the one who won the breakup, though.
ix.
I would've ****** you until you said you'd choke me 'til I turned blue. That and the fact that you thought you owned me, and I wasn't about to be in a relationship like that again.
x.
God, what do I say about you? You were one in a million and I never found any boys attractive til I found you. I look for you in everyone now, since you're not much of a risk taker and didn't wanna risk any legal trouble. 3 years is still within my states limit, by the way.
xi.
I wish you would've listened. I wish I didn't get drunk with you. I wish I had the strength to move your hands off of me. The signs all point to sociopath, but I'm not quite sure how to cut you out.
xii.
I love you. You fell from distant stars that I couldn't even name and you decided to fall into the world that I know and become someone I will always remember. You're one of the best friends I ever had. Not only would I let you handcuff me to your headboard, I'm already always at your feet and would destroy the world to let you find your home again.
xiii.
I am so ******* sorry. I understand if you now hate everyone with my name because of me. I never thought I could do something like that. I was too far gone and I wasn't there. It's no excuse. You forgave me but I can still sense your ache when you look at me.
xiv.
You were sober.
I wasn't.
It would've been good under different circumstances.
(t.w.)
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Todays sun felt lonely
Drenched in isolation
Melting for acceptance
Draping light upon empty carcasses
Feeling the gravity of the space between
An embrace no one can fulfill
Without the proper tools
The days will be spent empty
Full of giving solar flares of its former self
Begging for a better understanding
feeling altruism at the core
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
She picks up a pen,
a whirlwind of words fly around her head.
Her stories are written but not really read, as she plants her special words in her book.
She pulls her little book closer, as people are wondering why, she sits there and scribbles every day and every night.
Her throat swells and her anxiety kicks in, as worry pumps around her within.
She wonders what they'll think, is she weird? But she continues her poems with everything unknown.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC