Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2017 The Ghost
Meg D
You hurt,
And you cry
You scream, shriek, yell
But it's silent-
For silence is empty
And the emptiness is deafening and full.
People are full of emptiness
Remain this shallow,
With the same questions
You constantly repeat.

Life is a competition, a game
But what if i don't want to play
Where do i end up-
Alone, outcasted
I say I don't care, but no one truly never cares
Nothing will leave my mind.
I used to think this different was good,
But now I'm not so sure.

The world is the same with its differences
But different is never different enough
To be the same is not similar enough
Nothing is ever going to be enough
We can never be satisfied
Because people are quiet
And people are empty.
Idk this probably isn't very good, don't know about the title just a quick one
 Jul 2017 The Ghost
zahraa
when your mind clouds over
like the sky on a rainy morning
when your heart starts to fracture
as if it were a ligament to be fixed
when your eyes become oceans
with threats of tsunamis in the waves

there is nothing as peaceful as that
 Jul 2017 The Ghost
Elliot
I am tired of conforming
I am tired of smiling
I am tired of covering up
I am tired of pretending
I am tired of fighting
I am tired of being tired
I am tired of life
 Jul 2017 The Ghost
Jordon Rivir
Ode to a Poet(writer)
I know you,
All alone
4am is when you feel most at home.
I feel you,
Blank page, full pen,
I see you,
Looking at a page waiting for a tale to unfold,
Behold!
When it starts, it flows,
I am you,
Hiding away, writing my pain,
Escaping reality,
Day to day,
We are art,
In the way we move,
We are the dreamer's and believer's
Pad and pen in hand til our dreams come true.
C. Tyler
419

We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—*****—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—***** a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.
 Jul 2017 The Ghost
Tyler Matthew
There is a door in the house
     where I grew up
     that is never allowed to open.
Nothing special about this door;
it is made of wood and hinge.
My father holds the key
to this door,
and when I attempt to open it,
he quickly reprimands me -
"No! That's not for you, boy!"
My mother will not admit
that this door exists.
She insists,
"There's nothing there, sonny,
that's just a wall,"
though, to it, I have seen her
press her ear and pound her fists
and rattle every hinge.
She will not be happy
until this door is broken.
     There is a door in the house
     where I grew up
     that is never allowed to open.
Next page