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Spencer Smith May 2018
I walk down the familiar hallway of my home. “Today is the day you take your life back,” I tell myself. I walk to where my mother completes work that she’s always been busy with, the work that took her away from me. I nervously recite what I want to say. I want to let her know about the pain I feel. The anger I feel at people. The grudges I keep. The pain of feeling alone day and night. I reach for the *** and stop. “Why?” the voices say “She’ll never understand.” “She doesn’t care, no else does.” I retract my hand and retreat to the one place I can be alone. I stare at my ceiling counting the cuts on my arm. Wishing one of them would have cut deep enough to end it all. I stare at the pills I’ve kept for days like this. I turn away from them and the ice shatters inside, replaced with an empty abyss. I wish for the ice. At least then I felt something. I shed a frozen tear, wishing my life to seep away.
Spencer Smith May 2018
My mind swirls in an endless trance, I see empty faces. I look at the food situated in front of me. I look at the people that I once loved, but all I see are strangers. They never truly understood me. I want to puke. Instead, I push away from the table and walk to my room, people knock and try to open the door but I need to be alone. I can’t be here right now. I jump out the window and run. I run as far as I can. I turn the corner and keep running. I cross the street and I keep running. My feet hit the ground, my lungs yell for respite that I can’t bring myself to give them. I collapse when I can’t breathe anymore. I lay on the grass of my favorite place in the world. The park, I can be alone here, no one comes here anymore, not since they destroyed all the equipment. I look around at the grass that never seems to end. I lay on it, crying. “I am truly alone,” I say to myself, as I drift to sleep.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I stare at the cruel beast in my head with my mind's eye,
He blocks out the sun, making himself look like a total fright,
The muscle in my chest grow tight,
He turns me against everyone I've ever loved, however he might,

I feel the pressure on my relationships growing to a painful strain,
It causes an indescribable pain,
He tries to wrench me away from everything I love, he pours down reasons like rain,
I stare at the beast, as he transforms into a reasonable person, trying to best for me, trying to separate me from my pain.

But deep inside I know he's wrong,
I turn and walk out of the fog,
That has clouded my vision for years, I now know that the beast, is anger, and he I now know is a fraud.
He feeds me lies and hateful half-truths written on harmless little paper wads, sneaking them into my mind, oh so innocently.

I look now as I escape the fog and look into the sky, bright as the diamonds inside my loved one's eyes.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I listen and hear a door creak, my dog whining, a shadow in the corner of my eye, and movement that shouldn’t be there. I feel watched, like someone is right behind me, and is content to simply stand and stare until I look. I already made sure the doors were locked, and that the windows were latched, but it’s not enough. I hear the house settling, the wind blowing, but they sound different when I’m alone. The wind whispers to me how vulnerable I am all alone. The house moans about the bad people that could come and **** me without blinking an eye. My heart thumps hard, I can only hear the noises that keep me up, and the blood pounding in my ears. I feel a hand grab my shoulder, but nothing’s there. I hear a whispering voice, but it doesn’t like to be heard. I hear a gun being loaded, or a knife being taken out, but no one's with me. I lay in bed wondering what could be about to attack or hurt me. I think whether the doors were actually locked or not. When I hear a door creaking again, and icy grasp holds my heart. I start crying until I have no tears left to cry. The fear is real no matter what. I lay like this until I slip away into a haunted sleep.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I look around at the hollow faces surrounding me. They show no emotion or any sign of knowing what they were doing to the kid. He braces himself against a locker, nose broken, unable to stand up, and they keep going. I know when I joined their group I signed up to make people lives miserable, but I never wanted to hurt them. I stare at the kid that pain displayed on his face. He has a look of pure hatred written all over his face, I want to tell them to stop but I can’t. I turn on my heels and walk away. They yell after me to come back and get some of the action, but I can’t. This poor kid did nothing to deserve this, but I can’t bring myself to stop him. I walk out and get in the car. I turn the ignition and drive away. I was most of their way of getting home but I don’t care. I need to be alone. I signed up to hurt others, not thinking of the consequence, all I wanted was to be popular, but the price was much higher than I thought it would be. My soul.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I look across the table in her beautiful eyes
They seem brighter than the stars in the skies
I see the gleam they hold and wonder why they stay here with my soul filled with sadness and despair, I despise the pain.

She asks me what is wrong, she asks me if I’m alright
To be truthful I’m not her eyes are far too bright
I feel fright, what if I drown the light

The darkness in my soul grows tenfold until it beams above me like a devil.
It snarls with vicious teeth, as he sinks them in my corpse, ******* any vision of happiness away, replacing it with an evil sadness.
I feel the pit in my stomach growing, leaving, filling my mouth with bile.

I walk out of the restaurant with tears in my eyes.
I look up to the skies filled with stars that remind of those baby blue eyes.
I see the fear in her eyes.

Why must the devil in my soul come at the worst times?
I just wish for one day without tears flooding my eyes.
Please, oh please hope my friend replace the devil in my soul.

Please wage war with the devil in my soul called fear.
I fear what I may do to the brightness that is a beacon in my darkest nights, oh dear.
Please destroy the devil, that tries to quell the brightness in my best friends eyes, please release me from it, please allow me that one mear blessing.
Spencer Smith May 2018
Her favorite color was yellow,
She said it was perfectly mellow,
When we went to the meadow,
She picked them and put them in her hair, streaming out the window.

My favorite color is red.
It burns with a ferocity that fills my head.
It buzzes in my mind, even when I lay down in bed.
It puts a pop anywhere, even in the mead.

Together we made orange, vibrant as the sunset.
We held our hands to the sky our eyes gleaming and wet.
Because we knew all good things come to an end.
We memorized each other because we didn't want to reach a bend,

Where we would part forever.
I stare at the sunset over the river,
We used to love with fervor,
But now my arm feels emptier,

Not holding you beside me.
I stare at the sunset, feeling bleak.
I think of when I had you by me.
I miss you so much it drowns me like the sea.

I take a deep breath and let go.
I can't hold onto your yellow.
I let it flow into the air, it turns my mood even more mellow.
I kiss the daisy in my hand goodbye and let you go.
Spencer Smith May 2018
Gravity.
It holds me down with an iron fist.
At least that's what I tell myself.
It pins me to my bed,
Not letting me get up to do anything.

I finally defeat it,
But he is not a forgiving force and he keeps pulling me down.
I want to get up,
But it's strength is more then I can handle.

Gravity.
I just want you to leave me alone,
Though if I'm being logical,
I'm not sure if you're the thing holding me down,
But if you are as John Mayer would say,
"Gravity, stay the hell away from me."
Spencer Smith Jun 2018
I left for a few weeks,
To think over things.

I lost someone I loved dearly,
And wasn't thinking clearly.

I forced some words of comfort,
And built up the walls of my mental fort.

I flash a couple hollow smiles,
To hide the pain I keep in piles.

I wanted to scream "I"M IN PAIN!",
But I simply refrain.

I burn inside with hollow smiles,
As my family stays in denial.

My best friend took their life,
Instead of facing strife.

They grabbed a knife,
As they suffered in silence, a pain filled rife.

I cut for the first time,
As I thought of his collection of dimes.

Gone he is, Gone he'll be.
For the rest of eternity.
This poem is dedicated to my best friend Ernie, may he rest in peace.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I wake up expecting pain, agony, fear. Instead, I wake up to nothing. A dark room full of shadows casted by my demons. They seem to be afraid of morning light. They run off their tails between their legs, scared of whatever comes with day. The longer I think on it the more it makes sense. My monsters are afraid of hope. Hope is a bright light that shines away all of my monsters, he hugs me in his sweet embrace with fatherly love. I hear him saying “It’s alright now. They're gone.” Pain, agony, and fear always have and always will bow down hope.
Spencer Smith May 2018
My words bunch up in my throat.
I want to comfort people with my words, sweet as honey,
But they're too thick to come out.
I finally get them out, but they're weak and useless.
How do I get them out?

My touch falters.
I try to reach out and help with a gentle touch,
But it lands awkward and uncomfortable,
People edge away not wanting to be touched by me.
How do I fix my touch?

My eyes betray.
I try to tell stories through my eyes,
To spare people my words, that stick like honey,
I look to try and keep my poisoned hands away from them,
But all they display is hurt and sadness.
How do light them?

My writing helps.
I write down all the thoughts that stick like honey.
I try to touch the reader's heart with my words.
I hide behind a screen so they don't have to see my eyes filled with sadness.
How do I do this without a screen and keyboard?
Spencer Smith May 2018
The darkness around me recedes leaving an empty abyss. Consciousness slowing creeps in like a venom slowly killing my will to live. I listen to the bird songs pouring through my window. A normal person would be glad to hear them, but right now I need quiet. I stumble out of bed to close the window, I look at the alcohol surrounding me, the only respite I’ve found in weeks. I close the window and fall back into bed. My best friend, the light in my darkness, gone forever. I shed a silent tear. I feel a blackness surrounding me. Not even the brightest light can help me. I pull the blanket closer and feel sleep coming, but I fight it, when I sleep I think of her. I get out of bed and try to walk to the kitchen when I fall and hit my head. I try to get up but I can’t. Everything hurts. I put my head down and sleep a sad sleep.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I look through my heart.
When will the plague stop blocking my true feeling that hides in the far corners?
I look for art.
But all I find are mourners of emotions.

When will I find the sweet respite of hopes reassuring grasp?
Where will I find the sweet fruit that is a release from the pain I feel inside.
The pain floods in and freezes my soul like cold water, making me gasp.
I look for some a small piece of insight, of when I might be released from the iron hold of sadness its hold grip so tight.

I watch the shadows grow larger from my window.
With it, my fears grow until they cloud my vision.
I feel like a mother that has been widowed.
Of her husband, I feel a loss beyond comprehension, it makes me feel as though I am in owe to feel the pain night brings.

I curl under my blankets, trying to melt the ice growing in my soul.
I drift into a dark sleep trying to find my good friend hope.
But all I see are gaping holes.
I wait for someone to walk in and take away my pain, but like everything else I am let down, there was never anything to help.
Just a sad poem I wrote a while ago.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I wake up. My vision is blurred by tears I don’t remember crying. I feel a pit in my stomach. A small voice in my head tells me to wake up. I feel too tired. Too exhausted from sleep. I give myself a small laugh at that. How pathetic. I can’t even get out of bed. I lay in bed thinking about why I fight day by day to stay alive. “Why?” the voices say “No one likes you, that’s why you're alone.” it always does this is starts as a whisper and turns into a burning scream, that takes up all of my vision. Hope is simply a grain of dust in the wind, coming and going quicker than I ever thought possible. I eye the pills beside my bed. I could end it all right here, and why not? I’m not sure. I roll over and grab my phone. I ask my mom if she’s busy today I could use some help. But no, she has work. My dad never understood me. I glare at the window slowing brightening, I pull the blanket over my head and sleep.
I wake up and regret it. I go to sleep again and regret it. I get out of bed and regret it. I eat cereal and regret it. I watch T.V. and regret it. “You can’t do a single thing right, just end it all.” the voice whispers. It’s quiet but so reasonable so, so, right. Not a single person in the world cares. I close my eyes and wish for something to happen. I wish to be swept away by the wind in particles of dust, to forever be taken away from my sadness from my pain. I eye the pills in the cupboard. The voices yell now. “Do it! Take the pills! You have nothing to live for!” I pull the blanket over my head and shed a tear. I break more than I thought possible. I turn the T.V. on and watch the screen display images of people that aren’t broken, people that enjoy life. I envy them. I look at the clock and decide to go to bed again. I sleep a deep dark sleep.
I wake up to a knocking on my door. I walk towards my door. I open in it. No one stands there. I chuckle bitterly to myself. “Why would anyone want to see you?” I see an ugly beast inside my head sneering with joy at my sadness. I look at the box left for me. My heart brightens a little when I realize it’s from my mom, the one person who ever came close to getting me. I turn music on the stop the screaming taunts saying she doesn’t care. I open the small box. I almost cry at the sight, it’s a rainbow that says “To Brighten up Your Day, I love you, Dan!” I look at the rainbow colored things she sent, a rainbow scarf, a bright pair of shoes, some skittles, and other assorted things. I chuckle as I remember the kids that used to call each other gay and think about all the things they used to say, if they saw me in these they would definitely never stop teasing me. The walls seem brighter. The colors in my head more vibrant. The monsters in my head a little less intimidating. Today is the day I do something I tell myself, as I leave my house wearing the pink shoes my mom sent me, to where I don’t know. All I know is the sun has never been brighter. “You're still alone.” the voices argue, “No I’m not,” I say back with a finality that quiets all of the voices besides hope, now a gleaming sun in the abyss.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I hear the water splash on the shore,
The sound lures me to snore,
I watch the waves begging me to join them,
I wish I could, but the water is not to my anthem.

I feel the sand cooled by the afternoon chill,
I look and the sand, that has been made into a hill,
I climb to the top, to see the world,
From a vantage point to block out the cold.

I get to the top and watch the sun fall,
Into the waves, as I wish to do.
My eyelids grow heavy, I feed the temptation and lay down and sprawl,
Feeling the sun seep below the waves so blue.

I fall asleep to sound of the waves, gently rocking me to sleep.
Every temptation to weep,
Has gone, and seeped,
Into the ocean, that's singing a lullaby to me.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I trudge through the cold snow
Feeling it freeze scars, that cannot be seen with the eye
I think about the person who I used to own
But now is as far as the sky, above so high

I think of the bright silhouette
Her face painted in my darkest nights
I think about the way she would fret
When we made plans for two, I never understood her fright

She was perfect.
The smile she gave me when I told her she looked perfect.
I should have told her more.
But now her corpse lies in the earth, where she breathes no more.

She used to be the only one for me.
But now all I feel is misery.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I write to clear my head.
I write the sad thoughts I think in bed.

I try to release my feelings on paper, using ink, wielding a pen as a sword,
To slash the pain I feel inside with every word.

I use it as a shield against the raging attack of depression.
It takes a lot to make even that small confession.

The ache in my head recedes as if the ink is on the small table pen is taking the pain out of my fingertips, flowing on to paper, that I use as a shield.
I look at the paper, that holds the words I use to protect myself against the evil that is pain, I smile at my new poem to wield.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I read the words spelled on my screen,
They sheen with a sadness only poets can create.

My eye's gloss over with a wet sheen,
The beautiful way the words dance, they make my heart levitate.

We all need these words that pull out strings,
They make the pain fade, if only for a short space.

I urge you all to keep writing your beautiful poetry,
Because you all truly put a smile on my face.
Spencer Smith May 2018
Consciousness feels like a punch in the gut. I feel like sleeping, the sun seems too bright for the darkness in my soul. I stare at the ceiling watching it close in to **** me. I don’t fight it. I want it to take me away, to end my miserable existence. I yell at it to do it. To take my breath away. To stop the thudding in my chest. I think my last thought before I’m taken away for good. “I wish I could say I had a good run, but at least I tried.” I mumble, “Hope my family doesn’t miss me.” the voices chuckle at that “Of course they won’t no one loves you, you won’t be missed.” I can’t help but agree. I watch the ceiling collapse down on me. I wake up in a cold sweat only to regret it. I get out of bed and go live out my miserable existence. If ‘waking’ up in that dream was a punch to the gut, waking up in real life was a shot to the head. If only it was as fatal.
#sad #life
Spencer Smith May 2018
I stare at the skies.
And I find myself asking why?
My vision is blurred.
My words are slurred.

I felt this coming on for years.
But never wanted to feel the tears.
I watched my best friend fade.
Into her death parade.

She raised me from when I was born.
But now for that, I must yearn.
For the loss of the wink in the stars.
And the feel of a mothers touch, now so far.

Why, oh why, must death take the ones we love the most.
And leave them with only the company of a post.
I regret not being there.
To help her through despair.

Why had I made this grave mistake?
A mothers touch so far away.
Why?
Spencer Smith May 2018
You're like a bruise.
Every time something touches you, you hurt, but you're fine when left alone.
I try to heal you with my touch but only hurt you.
I give you space so you heal, but you hold on so stubbornly.

You're like a cut.
I try to let you heal, but can't help but pick a little like a child,
I try to pull you off but only hurt you more.
You cling on until you heal, and then you are gone.

You're like a knife in my side.
People use you to hurt me.
They twist the knife, to inflict hurt on me.
I try to pull you out but I can't find the guts too, so you stay there, until I pull you out painfully.

Why can't you see you're hurting me?
You insist on holding onto me until you feel better,
Then you toss me off like a used garment, beyond repair,
Until you run out of other clothes to wear, so you use me.

Making me hold onto your pain until you heal.
I try to get rid of you, but only hurt you so much more, and,
You know that I love you too much for that.
So I sit and wait for you to heal, but some wounds don't heal.
Spencer Smith May 2018
You, yes you.
The one with the broken smile.
No, look up, your beautiful for who you are.
I don't care how you look, or where you came from,
You Are Beautiful.
Despite what others may say,
You Are Beautiful.
Even though you may feel blue,
You Are Beautiful.
Just listen to me through the pain.
You Are Beautiful.
Your gender, race, past, do not have any hold on you anymore because,
You Are Beautiful.
I know the voices may say something else but,
You Are Beautiful.
I know you may roll your eyes but truly I know,
You Are Beautiful.
You may look in the mirror and see a disgusting mess, but your not,
You Are Beautiful
You may feel like a mess, but look up,
You Are Beautiful.
Through the loss, through the pain, through the ups and downs,
You Are Beautiful.
You have done more than you think, don't hang your head,
You Are Beautiful.
Despite the mistakes you may have made, or the cuts on your wrist,
You Are Beautiful.
You may feel anger, sadness, pain, lost, hopeless, but you should feel like,
You Are Beautiful.
There's no disguising the fact, that,
You Are Beautiful.
This poem goes out to anyone struggling to find peace or hope.
Spencer Smith May 2018
I speak my mind,
And I'm rewarded with blank stares.
"You're too young to not feel fine!"
Yet I wake up every day to despair.

I feel my hands trembling.
I see their confusion.
They aren't understanding.
They yell at me to come back in unison.

I'm only Thirteen,
And I feel as if I have the weight of the world,
Weighing down on me.
Suffocating me, blocking out all my words.

I write with my blood,
I've watched my arms be drained,
They see my cuts,
And ask me how it happened.

They think I'm too young to feel pain,
But I have it in Spades.
I can't tell them how it happened, so I run into the rain,
Panting, exhausted, and lost, just looking for somewhere to stay.

They don't understand,
Your just a kid,
Are you mad?
Just because I'm young doesn't stop pain from digging a pit for me.

I crawl into the pit every time,
Knowing it's the only peace I'll ever have,
Even if it is discomforting.
They see me suffer in silence, with a confused look, they'll never understand such a young soul to be tormented like this.

— The End —