I wanted to be wanted....
*...but not like this.
I guess being wanted wasn't what I was looking for.
If you're writing from your heart...
Is it art?
It makes me angry,
When other people hurt each other.
I couldn't give a ****
about what you do to me,
but please don't hurt others.
I've long since stopped caring
About my own feelings.
If I can protect someone else,
I'll take the beating.
I can't write today.
I've begun to learn
how easy it is to die.
I can't look at the trains,
when I'm stopped at the tracks,
because I know it's what
took my childhood friend's light.
And the whistle keeps haunting me
and I wonder what his last thoughts were
I can't walk down the hallway on the second floor,
because I know that's where they found
my classmate dead in the morning.
And another classmate's death brings
fears of needles and dark circles
and looking dead while you're still breathing
and why didn't anybody notice?
Words are ******* tsunamis but people splash them around like they're puddles.
Most people give up on themselves so easily.
You're trying your best.
This world has teeth
and it will try to chew you up
but we're not its food.
You're trying your best,
and that is what keeps us
alive to run another day
from the bite of the world.
You keep talking,
but all you ever say
A bird in the hand may be worth two in the bush, but what is an empty hand worth?
I still wish for happiness
every time, I wish.
Despite it all,
Despite the childishness,
I still wish for happiness.
It seems there are two hundred of you.
I like you all very much,
but I hope you don't
expect much from me.
Thank you for all your support,
Poetry was meant to be shared.
Liz and Lilacs
How do I sleep?
I realize I don't do it
as often as I should.
I lie awake and stare at the ceiling
as the walls close in
and the darkness is blinding
and the silence deafening,
How do I sleep?
I need the rest.
My eyes hurt.
That's how long it's been since you died.
I know everyone else stopped counting
long ago because it hurt too much.
But it's still hard to breathe without you.
I don't know how to be without you.
That day, I stopped existing when I found out.
Why did you leave me all alone?
Why didn't you take me with you?
Or stay with me?
I hope you don't mind
that I love you.
I keep my beautiful memories
encased in clear glass jars.
They glow so warmly,
Isn't it lovely to look at the past?
We can look, but we can't touch.
I can only hope the museum
doesn't catch fire in the night.
I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
We parted ways,
never to see each other,
not to speak again.
It was a healthier way,
happier, less painful.
So tell me why I miss you,
tell me why it still hurts
when I think of you.
My mind wanders at night,
and it hurts the most at 3 AM
It was for the best, wasn't it?
Smile at me, act like everything is fine.
Turn around and tell them how much you hate me when i'm not there.
I'm sorry I was never enough for you.
I'm sorry i'm cold.
but you doing this to me has only made everything worse.
When you begged me to stop cutting, I never imagined you'd be the reason that I would tear my skin to shreds.
go for a run
take a shower
go to class
stay in class
eat lunch... or don't
does it matter? No.
Lie a little,
eat dinner? no.
Can't deal with food.
watch some television
do some work
stare at a wall
take a shower
do some work
cry for a while
stop the bleeding
don't sleep until 3
wake from a nightmare
muffle the sobs
sleep for a half hour
a boring life
I would give anything to fly.
No matter the cost?
The freedom of the sky is worth everything.
I could give you wings, little girl.
I'll give you whatever you want for them.
I want your soul.
It's a deal.*
You stupid girl, you've traded away your freedom for freedom.
You may have the sky, but you will never be free.
Your soul is mine,
and so, you belong to me.
What is the price for my soul?
For I would sell it,
In exchange for all the time I lost,
Every last minute spent afraid.
My soul is of no value to me,
If I spend my life as a shell,
A shell of what I could be.
Will you take it?
Do you realize what you're doing?
I understand, it doesn't matter, I want to be happy.
All souls are miserable in the end.
Well then, give me the chance,
And I will give you my soul.
A drop of your blood will seal the contract.
I hope you realize what you've done to yourself.
I don't want your warnings, it is too late to go back.
It is done. I will see you in the end, my delicate soul.
*There will be no rest, for your eternal life.
She looked more alive
dangling from the edge
than she ever had resting
in the lap of luxury.
Were we ever meant to live the ordinary life?
The way his eyes lit up,
It was as if he saw heaven,
As if he could reach out and touch it.
"Amazing, isn't it?"
He asked, excitedly squeezing my hand.
I know we were supposed to be watching the sun rise,
But I much preferred to watch him.
*Yes, truly amazing.
A fond memory of you.
2 years, 3 months, and 20 days, I'm still hoping you'll come back.
I don't believe in prayers.
Of all the things I've seen,
miracles are not one of them.
If life wants to ***** you over,
Or ***** you up,
And there is not a thing you can do
To save yourself.
I tried to write poems
About sunshine and butterflies.
The kinds that smell like meadows
And feel like summer.
But the only ones that mattered
Were my poems about sadness
And anger and death.
The trainwreck poems are oh so interesting
We like to see others' sadness
This misery that might be greater than our own.
Maybe we aren't alone,
If we see that others suffer too.
* I lied. It wasn't happy
I hate you, ******.
I hate you. I hate you.
You've ruined everything.
I hope you die.
Nobody will love you.
And it doesn't matter if you want people to care,
You'll only ever be used.
No wonder they do what they do.
Open your eyes,
you've spent your whole life dreaming.
Open your **** eyes and realize this isn't some ******* fairy tale.
Nobody is going to save you.
Not from him,
Not from them,
Not from yourself.
You aren't lucky enough for that.
Stop dreaming and pick yourself off the ground,
You can't sleep forever
and dreaming won't help you forget.
Does anyone else find it ironic that Poe was a poet who wrote poetry?
Almost as if he was born to be haunted by words.
Do you want to run away, too?
Do you want to leave me alone...
Like everyone else?
I don't want to be alone.
I can't be alone.
I can't do this anymore,
Why do you have to leave me alone?
They say you're not alone.
I'm not alone
...but I'm alone.
I know what they say.
I know I'm supposed to believe them.
I'm not alone
...but why do I feel so alone?
I can't do this.
The title lies, my dear.
For all you ever want are love poems.
Perhaps if you had known me in a different time,
before I forgot how to love,
I could write a poem that would bring tears to your eyes.
But you know me now, you only know me as I am,
And it is childish, indeed, to believe that I could love you.
Be assured, it is not only you,
for I am cold and cannot love a soul,
Not even myself.
I consider myself a mirror.
Look into me and
I shall reflect what
you expect to see.
Everyone despises mirrors
for the truths they echo,
but mirrors are just glass
and they shatter when you hit them.
you find an empty stairwell.
Seldom used, not that clean.
But a gentle kind of quiet fills it,
the kind with chatter in the distance
and the smell of coffee from a nearby cafe.
You pause on the landing
between two flights.
A place between places,
a nowhere floor.
It's not a destination,
it's nowhere anyone's going.
Take a deep breath,
have a moment alone,
a moment of peace,
in this nowhere place.
I find it funny, you see,
how they call me "cute" and "adorable",
for if they saw my heart,
My rotten and bruised heart,
They'd choose far different words.
Sell your soul and change your life
You won't miss it all that much.
You won't be here in the morning.
Just think of it-
riches, love, knowledge, power.
Anything you could ever want.
You'll barely notice it's gone and
I know, I know you'll be content.
You make me feel
like I'm not good enough.
You make my stomach
do somersaults against my will.
My eyes tear up around you.
I think my eyelashes are falling out,
make a wish before there are none left.
I think I'm going to throw up.
You make me feel like I'm not good enough
*and it makes me sick.
They drank the wine of life,
The sweetness, the good times,
A glass half full, or a glass half empty.
They picked it up and poured away the good
and the hope that had colored the glass.
Nothing was left but an empty glass.
Death is upon us all on this dark day.
Death is upon us all on this dark
Death is upon us all on this
Death is upon us all on
Death is upon us all
Death is upon us
Death is upon
Day* faded to *night
while I wasn't watching.
You were always too good for me
and **** it, I'm not good enough.
I wanted to see the sunset, but
when I remembered, the sun was a memory.
You called me a a sunset kind of girl
and I didn't have a clue what that meant
but I liked the way it sounded on your lips.
Stop that, this has to be unrequited,
it's better for you, for me, too.
I'm not good enough for you.
*Just leave it to be worthless.
Nothing ever works out the way we plan.
You were the day, so crisp and bright.
Someone protected me once...
It was a nice feeling.
Not lust, not fear, not hatred,
There was anger,
But it wasn't directed at me.
He looked at me with care,
Like I was a real person, and not a shell.
I felt like I mattered for once.
To have someone step in front of you,
To gaze up at their back as they defend you.
I could have sworn he had wings,
Like a guardian angel.
Something made it through the emptiness
Can you tell me that there aren't any monsters in this world?
For I see reflected in others's eyes,
The end of time.
For us to live,
We must learn to survive.
These monsters will never leave us in peace, for we are them.
This palace is made of glass
and I can see every wicked lie
and every injustice
as clear as day.
Think you can hide behind walls and a door?
Perhaps you shouldn't make them out of glass.
My dear friend
He told me he was damaged.
I was too,
So I tried to fix him.
If I could save him, I could save myself,
Or maybe he would save me.
He broke me further
Instead of mending the rips in my soul,
He tore it to shreds,
And left his marks on my skin.
It's not nice to hit people.
In another life,
I would have loved you.
You would have enchanted me,
but I don't believe in love.
If we had met before
I knew the world was cruel,
before the wicked man,
before all the pain,
things would be different.
In another life,
I would have loved you.
I dreamt of death.
I knew people were going to die.
Each circumstance and cause of death.
I tried to save them.
Every effort failed,
I desperately warned them of their fates.
The demon of death
Came to me,
Angry that I had stolen her prey
And she said to me:
Visionary, it matters not whom I take
you can't save them all
so forget the knowledge gifted unto you.
To me she looked normal, like any other person,
But she began to melt, a look of pain seared on her face.
*Visionary, forget what you saw.
A dream that greatly disturbed me.
I am not the answer
I don't know the answers
I am not the reason the wax melts.
After years of staring at the flame,
entrancing, dancing, blue and yellow flame,
I've decided to touch it.
Ninety-nine cents per lighter
They told me not to touch it
but I like to do things I'm not supposed to.
Like kissing girls and eating icing off of the cupcakes.
Touching the flame is just another rule to break.
See wikipedia for a list of breakable rules.
I bought this candle for you
Only he knew I can't sleep without
the window cracked a bit.
Researchers say that's bad for your health.
The flame flickers
But I didn't have the answers,
and I couldn't find them.
He wanted instantaneous,
but I'm still a bit old fashioned
in this digital age.
Everything changes so fast.
Get the latest updates on your device!
A breath, a whoosh, the flame is gone.
I knew things were different when
we reached out to touch *(the screen) but
This is meant to be spoken, I'm experimenting with a different style of writing in preparation for a poetry slam contest. Any critiques would be welcomed and greatly appreciated.
Everyone's demons are different.
There can be a thousand poems,
all entitled Demons
and not a single one would be the same.
We all must face our demons
Stand tall, eyes wide.
Take a deep breath.
We'll hold hands
while we face our own demons.
You may be alone in your fight,
but you are not alone for good.
Even I have a poem called demons
A man once loved her
She warned him to stay away.
She was a monster,
She liked to hurt.
She knew she would hurt him,
Because she couldn't understand
Why he would love her.
He grew sick of her self hatred,
He didn't want to see her scars.
She couldn't write love poetry for him,
Because she doesn't believe in love.
He gave up on her,
and she wrote more poems.
The thesaurus is your lover;
the dictionary is your best friend.
The blank paper is your enemy;
the broken pen is an acquaintance.
Grammar can sit in the corner;
and rhyme can have it's own chair.
The trashcan's favorite food is crumpled paper,
and you do so love to feed it.
And who could forget,
your hands and your mind?
They are you,
and you create art.
This is incredibly light hearted compared to my usual stuff.
Not sure where it came from.
The little lady will do anything for you.
Kiss her hand,
Watch her melt at your every word.
You know how desperate she is for your acceptance.
Act like a gentleman,
Your intentions are anything but.
Royalty faces no consequences, after all.