The world doesnt care that you exist
hide your pain and slit your wrists
cover the scars and let them bleed
black out at school filled with greed
get home cut deeper and dont let them see you cry
so pathetic
you dont get it
dont look me in my eyes

hurt yourself
your hurting others
but do you even care
stupid little sunshine
if i hurt you its only fair.

"if you want to make it in the world
take your shot
aim high
hit the target
don't miss your shot holly"

I have missed my shot granddad.
if only you'd known who I really was.
you probably would've hated me,

"Oh"
that is the sound I made when you told me you liked me
the sound I made when you asked me out
when you said "I love you"
when you touched me
when you said you felt i was distant
when you left me
when you ripped my heart into a million pieces and left me for dead
when you told me you were getting back with him
when you told me he was so much better
when he left you
when you stopped talking
when you left

you didnt like me. you liked the idea of being liked, loved.
you knew i was a rebound.
You said "I hate you" and meant it, but "I love you" felt fake
you felt like him. i hate you for that.
i was closer to you than anyone. i left everyone for you.
you chose to leave
you hurt me
god it hurt.
i told you i was proud of you and him.
he finally realized how awful you were.
your silence filled my ears
and then you were gone.

When you think about a poem,
What do you hear?
The buzzing of rhymes, passing your ear?
Or do you think of words?
Lines on a page?
The timeless messages, growing wisdom with age?

Do you think of a certain one?
A song,or a rhyme?
A passage you read, about the beginning of time?

What makes a poem? Is it the words or the lines?
The message, or rhymes?
The writer? The Reader?
The sender? The receiver?

What makes a poem?
The Poet, of course.
It isn't the words, or the rhyme,
It's the voice.

That's what makes a poem,
That will stand the test of time.
If The Poet believes it,
Is that such a crime?

a doe wandered into the clear path of the starry forest. three shots had rung out.
a buck lay flat on the clovers and tall grass.
a fawn beside him pawing the ground.
three frogs hopping in the trees.
down down down.
the doe lay beside the fawn as it denied the inevitable, inescapable truth.
he was gone.
she was here.
and the frogs sang a sappy tune.
"ohhh cry out sweet sorrow, the dragonflies skitter away! the cats are out and the mice are at play. whistle sour melodies and harmonious truth, the deer have crossed over, behind stayed their youth."
the young doe shooed away the silly frogs before the hunters heard.
poor fawn.
no mama in sight.

"I love you"

I love you more

"I miss you"

I miss you too

"We need to talk"

What did I do?

"It's me, not you"

Is it really?

*no response

I am a child of God.
I am human.
Made in 'His' image.

If this is true, than why go by 'she'?
Why am I confined to this body?
I wont change, for it is not my choice.
I have strayed. Led by a voice.

If I am 'His' child, than why
Why o Why God
Why have you placed me on this forsaken planet?

I wish to be with You.
I wish to be free.
Free at last.

;

we talked about everything
and nothing at all
be it in bed
or a bathroom stall

going to sleep
staying awake
we did more
than we thought we could take

m
o
o
n

and i


he liked my poems
and i adored his
words from the heart
sealed with a kiss.

i miss his poems
the sun and the moon
our sunlets

he likes my poems
and i like him.

just one more time
then we can stop
pick up the blade
watch as it drops
two or three couldnt hurt
drip drip drip
just a few more
****
too many
how can i hide it?
drip
drip
just wear hoodies and thick pants
stop itching at it
im so tired
did she see it?
just one more time
just two or three more
drip
hide it
itchy
they know
one more
drip
itchy
hide
help
one
more
time

drip drip drip

"huh? no im ok! my cats are vicious this time of year."

a girl
oddity
out of time
wrong place
no reason
no rhyme
wasting space
a rich commodity
unfurl

You're speaking again.
I'm listening.
You're crying again.
I'm listening.
You're lying again.
I'm listening.
I'm still hoping.
I'm still trying.
Poor little Sunshine.
Not a clue what to do.
why.
words words words.

They're yelling again.
I'm listening.
They're hurting again.
I'm listening.
They're learning again.
I'm listening.
I'm praying.
Hoping.
Waiting.
words, words, words.

I'm hurting again.
who's listening?
I'm trying again.
who's listening?
I'm dying again.
who's listening?
who's watching, hoping, praying, waiting, trying, for me?

Words. Words. Words.

who is listening...

i know its not healthy to dwell on the pain
to dull my knives
just numbing my brain

we know its unhealthy to push people away
to isolate
then beg to be saved.

broken ship
on the sea of wide eyes
broken glass
taken lives

"taken from us far too early"
oh if only they knew
jumping on the cut trampoline
the poet finally flew

its unhealthy to write poems
of only sadness and regret
the awful sad truth is?

you have seen nothing yet.

when i was sad
i put on your playlist
now all i hear is
you
singing along
to that same ******* song
repeat

id listen
just to see you smile
now its empty
a husk
a shell of the thing i held dear

music feels distorted
out of tune
too
much

i dont want to listen

i want the world to go quiet
so i can hear
music
the same
way
i
did
before
you

in my native language, this is my name.

it means "Cannibal Woman"

it is well deserved

I am chickasaw.

come one come all
to see the apathy
to witness tragedy
the fame and fortune
the game ends in june
the name died too soon

all those
olden titles
tales of the late
soft spoke mysteries
entitled histories
forgoten stories
because of you

burnt to the ground
yet your empire grew
you left behind a trail
how we never knew
your secrets spilt
your identites spew

gilded ashes
paved the way
you taught us to follw
not to stray
every command
every lie
we let it pass
let you get by

an unwritten song
never to be sung
your entire world
the peirced lung
your forgetting friends
youre forgotten

youre rotten.

I wanna hear you say it
Don't want to need to rephrase

You love to feel this way
So you scream, could it be?

You give it all away
Admission free, could it be?

I can hear but I cannot see

Crybaby

I want you to write it down
It's not you, it's me, why I keep coming around

I can hear but I cannot see

Crybaby

Abdicated, celibate
More than had enough of it

I can hear but I cannot see
Crybaby.

i will do anything
just to feel everything
that anybody can
that everybody can

i would do everything
just to feel anything
i would cut i would burn i would crash
i would be the tray for your ash

cuz now i cant
feeel your toouch
without it stinging
and i cant heear youur voice
with my ears ringing

i drop the knife to the floor
run straight to the door
and i scream
"i just want to feel like my life aint a dream"

(anything; everything) ©Sunny Semloh 2025

period period go away
i do not need you
for i am gay

period period back again
why are you here
i am a man

period period my stomach doing twirls
i cant get pregnant
i **** girls.

Shadows waltzing across my ceiling never seem to fear the future.
They come when called, enthusiastically enthralled.
They kiss and trail
Every night without fail

My frail body lays awake
I lie and ache
Fear a constant, leering foe.
I yearn to be the soft, sweet 6 year old.
She was scared and alone
But she had been safe.

The shadows have no worldly fears
Their care is only the forever dance of night
When they intertwine
Togethet
Instil fear into the hearts of young
And bring hope to the future generation

Poem

when the people come
to steal your hope
bare your teeth
don't give up

when the people come
they take your things
sink in your teeth
make it sting

when they come
to take you away
put up a fight
sink your teeth in
don't let them leave
without knowing
who
you
really
are.

i am the strength, the saftey, the fear.
i stay close, always near.
the one they call when things go wrong
the silence hurts, their screams a song.
the body aches, battered bruised
couldve been simple, had he refused
you
all those nights ago.
but he didnt know.
i keep them alive.
let the body thrive.

stop wallowing in your sorrow
no one is garunteed tomorrow

if i were to close my eyes
take away the pain
i could fly
like a bird
not a plane
id reach the moon
the stars
the sky
i close my eyes
and i can fly

there was an honest man. a good man. a story teller.
he worked in the library, taught children to read, he was a kind man, a great fella.

well "once upon a time" was his motto, his stories always bled into the light.
he went to bed as it got darker, knowing he had done his stories right.

"Nevermorre calls upon you, Storyteller." called the queen of that land.
he had to leave this era, he hoped theyd understand.

as the kind, gentle man left our world, he left a story for the children to be unfurled.
the story of Nevermorre, the friends of the past, the chimer of futures, the words of the last, the darkness of sorrow, the swirling of shame, those who read, did not return quite the same...

so quiet now young ones, im here to tell
the story of Nevermorre, is mine as well.

cards slip up the sleeves
the red reflecting only for a moment
the soft glowing of pale white
and the deep crimson marring it.
pull a trick
and only the people who know themselves
how the trick is pulled
will ever know you did it again.