Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sarah Spencer Dec 2021
Paintbrush in my hand,
yellow paint at the ready
to add the last finishing touches.

It's a landscape of a bright sunset
bleeding into dark waters.
Its beautiful beyond compare,
enough to make anyone smile
at just the mere sight of it.

But I'm frowning.
Because where I make a masterpiece,
I see a piece of work.

Just like when I look
into the mirror everything morning.
I see features of my face
that could be painted over
or blended in to look prettier
like the other girls at my school.

But unlike my artwork that I can
fix and fool around with until I'm pleased,
I can't change my face into
a work of art that I can be proud of.
I  know I will always feel like a failed project.

I really am my worst critic...
I notice my poetry has started to take to a different style that resembles the poets that I look up to the most on here with my own personality written into the seams. Not sure if any of it is good or not but it makes me think about things and it feels more genuine to the vague poems I used to write
Sarah Spencer Dec 2021
even though I'm almost 18
I still see the world through
the eyes of a child.

Soon I'll go off to college
and pull out my hair
trying to pay the bills,
but just for one moment,
while I'm still on the border
of adolescent and adult,
I want to do the things I used to do.

I want to rewind time to winter
where there was a mug of hot chocolate
waiting for me on the kitchen table
after hours of making angels in the snow.

I want to travel back to spring
where I'd race my bikes
with the neighborhood kids,
splashing through puddles and
spouting out elementary insults
and feeling on top of the world.

I want to go back summers ago
where I giggled under the dying light
as I caught fireflies in plastic containers
and danced in the dark green grass.

I want to go back to fall
where I would sit on the couch
cowering over horror movies,
burying my face into a blanket whenever
the scary parts came on the screen,
because I wanted to feel like a big girl.

And now that I'm nearly a big girl,
whose stuck between the seasons,
I know I no longer want to be one.
That I wish I would have stayed
within those younger years
just a little longer.
Sarah Spencer Dec 2021
The poet's eyes
are just like everyone else's,
but in front of those eyes
are a pair of rose tinted glasses.
Sarah Spencer Dec 2021
I wish there was a parallel universe
where I could have you.
Where I could wake up next to you
and be the happiest person alive.
Where you and I could be together
out on the town, the night lights
radiating your imperfections that
I've come to love so much.
Where I could sit you down
to meet my parents
and see their faces shining with pride
because their daughter is dating someone
rich in love instead of wealth.
Where we could hold hands
and walk down the street
without the world telling us we're wrong.

I know I would find it fun to live a different life,
but really I just wish there was a parallel universe
so that I could make you happy.
Sarah Spencer Dec 2021
Breakups rhymes with makeups
because the two go hand in hand.
Love straps you in for a loop-de-loop
it slams you from side to side
and just when you think you're safe,
that you've finally reached your peak
you p
       l
       u
       m
       m    
       e
       t
       .
And just like a roller coaster,
it can either be fun or scary
depending on the person.
And though I enjoy roller coasters,
love terrifies me.
Sarah Spencer Nov 2021
Baby, I will do anything.

I'll **** myself,
trash my mental health,
commit social suicide,
throw away my pride.

I'll play your game of black jack.
Please just take me back.

Baby, I will do anything!
I'm so sad!!!!!
Sarah Spencer Nov 2021
Waking up in a pool of sweat and tears,
my memories haunting my nightmares.
I had just fallen asleep at 2 a.m
because I stayed up all night stressing.
Because I was afraid to face you
the following morning.

I thought I'd slept for hours,
that I had just forgotten
to set my alarm on accident.
But when I squinted to see,
the red numbers only read 3.
And though I'm physically tired,
I've never felt more mentally awake.
Next page