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Ayn Jun 2020
Through the ice
And falling even more.
She’s down there to catch me,
But the icy shards
Are freezing my blood.

A branch sticks out in my path,
Throwing me off balance,
And now I’m no longer falling;

I’m tumbling out of control.
With no idea
How to regain control.
I remember why I used to write so much.
There was so much to write about, and so much emotion to supply the correct language.
Ayn Feb 2020
Slashing through
The silver visage
Of a golden dream.
Snapped open
With the clap of a book
That cleanly split an
Eternally unified sky,
And resonated through
This stagnant planet.
No idea. Calmer than a sleeping kitten outside.
Ayn Mar 2020
Feeling the waves
Fleeing beachside,
Reaching oceanbound.
With feet planted in the ground,
But you’re nowhere to be found
My heart leapt forward
To save that which had drowned
Yet it was too late
You came to comfort,
My worldly hate.
Now read it upside-down. The reverse blocking might be a bit weird so please be patient. I should note that on the reverse, (starting at the bottom) lines 5-8 are one sentence talking about the second person.
Ayn Dec 2019
Dec.28.2019

Time is a relative  concept
I mean, have you ever
Felt like you teleported
From 11:00 to 1:00?
I have.
It’s an awkward mistake
That i all too often make.
Doing out the math, I have 3 hours until I should get up, and 4 until I have to (it’s 3am now) I should jufrfgdf

If you can't tell, I fell asleep while finishing it up, I just remembered it existed and I really badly overslept...
Ayn Mar 2020
Time, time is a valuable thing;
We never see our seconds sliced
By an archangel’s bladed wing
Even if I am like I am currently, my mind still forces me to write something. Time goes by too fast. I always end up waiting too long on the important things.
Ayn Dec 2019
Everyone is a ticking time bomb.

Tick tick tick

Each word I make another mistake

Tick tick tick

I feel like I am about to break

Tick tick tick

My well being is in their control...

Tick tick

The day is almost over

Tick tick

I’ve angered them once again

Tick tick

I don’t know what I did

Tick tick

But today,
I’m going up in flame,
Like every day before,
Can’t they just let me go?

TICK

The bell marks the end of another day,

BOOM

Once again
I lie in my blood,
Propped against a cold brick wall,
Wondering what I have done
To deserve all of this pain.
Everyone still is a time bomb in my head. If I do something wrong, they’ll blow. I dedicate this to all the ******* ******* who made me this way.
Ayn May 2020
Six and a half hours
Of grueling yard work
Seemed like an eternity
Of endless seconds

Without you.
Yeah I know the name’s awful. I’m very tired. My IT and writer body isn’t meant for 6.5 hours of heavy lifting and shoveling dirt.
Ayn Aug 2020
As my body starts to drag,
My mind starts to wander.

Moving becomes a chore,
And listening is a bore.

I think I’ll just close my eyes,
And fall to the floor.
Sorry that I was awake for too long.
Ayn May 2020
The path is trying
And the cliff is yet to come.
Some days I will rest
Under the scorching sun.
Some days I will climb
Sweating through the morning mist.
Adrian being silly Adrian over here, writing a poem about catching all of the pokemon in a pokemon game. It is a pain, but the satisfaction will gratify it. I am so close.
Ayn Dec 2019
To love,
Is to live with pain each day,
The pain of mistakes
and misconceptions
Will litter your beating mind,
Burning your head at the thought
Of their beauty.

To live and love them
Is to let go of it daily.
All the pain and suffering,
Regrets and remorse,
Let go of it.
Otherwise you’ll end up
With rosy cuts in your arm
And venomous thoughts,
That cloud your delicately
lovestruck mind.

Live to love,
And love to live.
Let go of what you love,
But never let go of your life.
Said from experience. Anyone who hasn’t learned this yet should, and I hope those people don’t roll down the same path I did.
Ayn Apr 2020
Following the flow
Of the common track
The boy begins crack.
With eyes succinctly averted
And attention neglected,
fissures begin to grow.

A shout
A sprint
A line
Ran through.
A life
Forgotten.

A life
Renewed.
What is this thing called “self insert?”
Ayn Feb 2020
I wish
Whenever I entered
My washroom of judgement,
I could look in the mirror
And question:
“Who is that handsom SOB?”

Instead,
I think of 6 random dudes.
Three look better than I do,
And three look worse,
But the latter all have girlfriends.
I wish I’d stop comparing myself to others. Dudes care about looks too, sometimes even more than women do. (I don’t care enough to try improving my looks tho)
Ayn May 2022
As we got up and took our first step,
I looked at him, and he looked at me.
A silent nod exchanged in unison,
To convey our undying trust
To convey our unspoken love.
Lol I wish he liked me like that…
Ayn May 2020
Trust is a two way handshake
Both parties have to want to shake hands to shake hands properly.
Ayn Dec 2020
A spike;
Cold, torturous,
And reminiscent
of the eternal void.

The void is a reflection
Of what lies inside me.
Relinquishing the reigns,
I let my demise
Become the torture
For my miserable actions.
Ayn Feb 2020
A push back to reality,
A play full of comity,
And a couple of songs,
Brought end to the calamity.

Still in disarray,
My body will pay
For tricking me
In such an awful way.

Where I might go?
I do not know,
But I feel that I’ll start to
Follow my blood’s flow.
Two different existences
That were not the same person,
But I thought of them as one.
How foolish of me.
Ayn Dec 2019
Love is controllable,
I had it under my thumb.
Way back when, I liked someone,
But I switched my object of obsession,
In order to avoid imminent depression.
But That was just an interest; a fancy,
Now what I have is beyond my control,
Not only that, but it’s in a realm I cannot see.
So I’m stuck in this desolate, claustrophobic hole,
With no latter or rope to speak praise of,
I want to send myself a white dove,
And control or remove this hellish love.
True story, I was interested in a girl in 6th grade but I switched my interest because she was popular. Then I had an interest in the one I switched to For awhile. And now It’s a different person and I can’t control it...
Ayn Jun 2020
Brown seaweed
Sliding in the echo
Of a siren’s long lost lament.

Through the ocean
Not a sound shall break
The fragile fabric of silence;
It shall stand for an eternity.
Made the first stanza while talking to a wonderful person last night. Thank you ——.
Ayn Jan 2020
A dulling gold plain
split into many pieces
by the high tide water.
The water flows steadily,
a rather small motion
that breaks the illusion
of stagnant salty ice.

the concrete bridge
stands like a gravestone;
marking the time of old,
and barely intact
to see the present hour.

The unfiltered sun
shines ever so brightly,
as if a golden amber blanket
is lain caringly upon
this dead winter marsh,

giving it light,
giving it life.
that bridge is kinda old... I honestly hope it doesn't collapse soon I think it says 1919 on it. I never noticed how beautiful this marsh was until today.
Ayn Mar 2020
The fruit is to the earth
As is the fruit to the forbidden
I came alive from the tree,
The grace was but to flee.
The truly unforgivable one

Is me.

I became what I ate
And I am now forbidden
And forsaken.
Adamy type story I guess. ‘Bout falling for dudes. Bible says **** gays so I say “**** bible” (yes there are passages that say things against gays.) believe in what you will, I won’t judge, but I chose the option that would accept me even just slightly better.
Ayn Jan 2020
Is it red or gold?
I can no longer see the difference.
They both have meaning, warm and cold,
but I have no background inference.

Red like the fluttering cardinal's feathers,
but with a worldless ocean of depth.
The eminent vitality permeates the countless layers,
and a single look was enough to deftly steal my breath.

but it might as well be a searing gold,
with its sheen of softly sleeping amber.
A vibrancy that boils my blood cold,
and fills my mind with fruitless clamor.

I see it as neither or both.
The gold brings solace, while the red is my reality.
Before the colors flow, I must swear my saving oath,
that the delusion will never end my forlorn vitality.
I remembered writing this poem a while back, after questioning myself why my blood was no longer red (it was red, I just couldn't see it for some reason). written summer-ish(?) 2019, vastly edited Jan.10.2020.
Ayn Feb 2020
Unnoticed
Shall these lines lie
But I am at fault.

Little rules:
Syllable count
And weird rhyme scheming
Define these works of mine

I wonder
If anyone
Notices this stuff
In which my mind runs wild
To create this distinct shape.
True story. I oftentimes think that nobody notices all these formatted poems I write. For example, Fulfillment has a template consisting of the syllables per each word type in a line; verbs and nouns, and then dividing the syllables between them. This poem starts off at 3 syllables and adds one onto each succeeding line, and the number of lines per stanza increases by 1 for each stanza.
Ayn Feb 2020
Brimming with silent
Trepidation, words come not;
‘Cept my wordless thoughts.
I think I’m really tired. Nothing is happy or nice rn.
Ayn Jan 2020
Set on the tracks,
following a distant star
on a voyage to the beyond.

Sea after simmering sea,
spiteful morning dawn
after last remaining twilight,
we travel, veiled by the night.
I IDENTIFY AS A FREIGHT TRAIN THAT HAS A STOPPING DISTANCE OF OVER A MILE. (if ur gonna quote me, use prev. statement)
No, this is not a poem about trains. Jan.9.2020
Ayn Feb 2020
I
Hated
My
Life,
But
You
Saved
Me
From
Myself.
Inspired by BeautifullyBroken’s 10 word poems. I still have to thank him, and tell him that I’ve forgiven his assholesque rejections.
Ayn Jan 2020
From skin to bone,
I shall forever be alone.

Until death...

Until death comes for me,
Rips my existence apart,
Then leaves my body be,
As if he never graced my soul.

Then I will be alone,
And so frigidly, rigidly cold.

It is of a faintest hope I hold,
That I will not be alone
In the painfully adjacent future.
I thank you for your time.
Ayn Apr 2021
As the humid summer days
Sift into the crisp autumn nights,
Like the shimmering sands
Of a young hourglass,
She longs to once again
Feel the raging warmth
Of the midsummer sun.
Ayn Dec 2019
Lightning streaks overhead,
The wind gouges out my nerves,
Which are shot several times over.

Upon this precipice I stand,
The angels rise up from below.
They carry a banner of despair,
Waving it in my face
With a vexing mirth.

My destitute hands tremble,
As the glistening red rain falls,
Touching them
Ever
So
Slightly.

Upon this precipice I stand,
In fear of this desolate world.
I choose to leave my wounds be,
And wait for death’s vile hand
To scald me with and icy iron brand.
There’s a reason for it being called untitled and my laziness is part of the answer. I was going to change it but realized nah, it fits. In my mind, the narrator doesn’t know why he’s here. The title would have been why he’s here. Also precipice has 2 meanings, both apply.
Ayn Dec 2019
Oct.25.2019

Sammie, it annoys me
That you called my question sweet
It’s not you, it’s me.

What to think of it?
It confuses me so much
Know that I love you!
Christ almighty I forgot that I asked someone out to homecoming that day and got rejected in a really sweet manner that avoided telling me weather my feelings were reflected or not. It’s in a double haiku form. There were hundreds to choose from my drivers ed book, but this one was the least bad.
Ayn Nov 2021
The last streams of daylight fade away,
Like the frail afterimage
Of melancholic memories;
Drifting quietly like seaglass,
Submerged in an unfamiliar world.
I got nothing to add to this, so imagery is what it all is i guess.
Ayn Dec 2021
How many small lies
Have I imprinted
How many are left?
Ayn Mar 2021
As we listen to the silence,
A world of noise
Populates our barren mind.

We bring life
To the once subdued void,
Only to ***** it out
Like a whimpering candle
When we inevitably forget.
Me writing poetry at 12:30am lol. Time for some ice cream.

Edit: after rereading this in the morning, I realized I never ate any ice cream.
Ayn May 2020
As long as my heart keeps beating,
It will keep unrequitedly loving.
Ayn Sep 2021
Like a solitary tree in a silent plain
Awaiting the blight; the everlasting rain.
Life has come and gone;
The span of a second
With the grace of a swan
Like a shrouded mosaic
The mist reveals piece by piece;
A picture is formed
Of a concrete world,
Built on the fragile sands of time.
Ayn Jan 2022
Crawling through the wastes,
I wish for the flame.
To fly above the rest
To have nothing but a name.
My hope and interest
have kept this dream alive
And allow me to thrive
Even in these darkest moments.
Fire is purifying and equivocal.
Ayn Apr 2022
Thoughts lie adrift, like the mist;
Fading into the dawning light.
With this hew sun, I am blessed;
Renewal will come when the time is right.
For now, I must spread my wings,
Readying my soul to take flight
And bask in the vernal sunlight.
I’m alive, so yay! Working on being better now, it definitely was rough for a bit tho.
Ayn Jan 2021
I’m the whisper
Among the piercing scream;
The subtle vertigo
Of an early morning dream.

I’m the darkest burning star;
Your wandering mind
When you’ve gone too far.

I’m the voice you could not hear;
The voice you should not fear.
Advice that most abhor,
Given with an air of valor.

Don’t follow my whispered suggestions,
All it becomes is bad recollections.
Ayn Feb 2021
The tug,
The pull,
The snap.

Giving way to the fall.
Time, flowing like water
Among glittering beaches.

Darkness moves in,
But a flaming defiance
Rises like a screaming gale
Along the gap
Where the string once existed.

In the flames of renewal
A new string is born,
Holding back
With a grip like thorns.

Spiraling in and out
Of a fruitful Existence,
We stand on the brink of life.
Hi~ hi~ everyone! I was listening to some Bring Me The Horizon today, and I caught myself thinking what would happen if I just drove my car into a tree (while I was driving my car I thought of this). I knew it was a dodgy thing because I don’t know how fast before I die. In the end I figured out one thing. If I went fast enough, I’d be dying, blinking out of existence, but I’d be screaming to live, in every last cell of my body. This poem is to reflect that. I didn’t crash my car. I’m not dead yet *******! (Said in a joking manner)
Ayn Jan 2021
Streaks of rose-gold radiance
Elevate the scarlet plateau.
Through watching skies,
And ethereal cries,
The peak of the world draws near.

When all’s said for all to hear,
A hidden motive is made clear.
There’s no reigning power
As pervading as our fear.
Ayn Feb 2021
Hold the rain;
Follow the fall,
Catch it before the splash.

Little umbrellas
Are all I have
Lay upon the grass
And feel the silencing grasp.

Live vicariously
Through my rain;
Through my pain.
Ayn Jan 2021
Youthful spring,
Slowly drawing itself towards winter.
We wish it would stay forever,
But time grows old,
As all things do,
And barren days
Arrive in a haze.

All seems lost and lifeless,
But hope is not yet futile,
Because spring lies beyond
The approaching horizon.
Ayn May 2021
You are the bleach searing my eyes,
The blade entering my veins,
The truth behind my silver lies,
And the silent screams of my pains.

Necessary but unwanted…
Or was it wanted but unnecessary?
Now it’s just a still ballroom, long haunted.
Ghosts and specters dominate the ferry.

Once a burning memory
Now a fading sheet of music.
Silence carries no remedy,
Besides the voice of your mimic.

You broke through my inaudible screams,
Now you linger amongst my deepest dreams.
This goes all over the place, doesn’t it? I wrote it last night then passed out while writing the note. For context, the speaker is talking to the writer.
Ayn Jul 2020
How many more times
Will I die
Before I find life
In its scarcest places?
Ayn Dec 2021
The vile thorn
Piercing like an unseen razor.
Infecting the wound
Like a midsummer overcast;
Sudden and volatile.

It whips and warps you,
A slight touch of the thorn;
A graze with death’s finger.

Within my mind the thorn resides,
An affliction to my mind.

I am dull,
I am vile.
Ayn Jan 2021
Laying newfound gemstones
Upon the fields of springtime citrus,
The sun rises once again.

We are here to witness
As the earth’s moonlight visage
Is burned away by the rising fire,
Leaving us free to start anew.
Hey, this is for a friend named s, and probably everyone else. Who I wrote it for isn’t important. It’s important to remember that sometimes all you might need is a reset. To take a nap during the day, or sleep through the night can help you a lot. Remember that. I don’t want anyone making the mistakes I have.
Ayn Oct 2021
He’s back once more;
The icy presence held at the door.
My heat is drained away
Like a fleeting fall leaf,
And all that’s left is an empty shell;
Something he wouldn’t sell.

Why all the meaningless slander?
I know you love me at heart.
There’s everything left for us;
A world of experience to handle.
Take my hand and I’ll show you,
You’ll see a world better than blue.
Get out of my head. You aren’t welcome.
Ayn Jun 2020
The roses kneel
Before the trees
The shadowed reveal
Before the breeze.

The smell of rain
In the sky.
My tears are gone
And the well is dry.

Why am I welcomed
By burning pages
And culling voices?
Ayn Feb 2021
False whispers
Sounding alarms,
Poisoning the will;
Drowning the ill.

Pulling you down
Just to push you up,
And burrow inside you,
To be a viciously vicarious
Vile remnant
Of whats long gone.
Ayn Nov 2020
Within unburdened walls
Lies the embrace of space
And it’s forceless relation
To the movement within us all.
Ayn Jan 2021
Shrouding every waking breath,
And stifling my sickened cough;
Weakening me.
Forcing broken promises,
And dealing only half-truths,
Making my regret vile.

I wish I could’ve met you,
I would’ve saved some face.
But your face is mine.
And your mind,
Well it’s on the same line.

There is no solving you.
Believe me,
I’ve tried it too.
Only in avoidance
Will I save myself
From your remnants.
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