Looking back on my life through poetry hurts me.
I see how low I felt and how much I hated myself and the world we live in.
And I like to think I've changed; I no longer am in such a bad place or have as much hatred.
But yet, I find myself feeling so many of the emotions i felt so many dreadful years ago. I'm almost 22 and I find myself feeling the same exact way I did at 15.
I just want to be happy. And I know I'm the only keeping myself from it. I can blame it on my past "trauma" all I want, but I'm the only thing holding me back.
Will I ever change?
The devil dwells deep within her soul
Pure evil was in her gaze but I mistook it for lust
I thought the look in her eyes made me feel whole
But she made me a fool and destroyed my trust
Her silver tongue spit silver bullets
Leaving me with scars I'd never show
I thought our relationship would work to the fullest
But at the end she threw all the low blows
My trust was a forest that her carelessness burned down
Forests don't grow back overnight
Her lies sparked the fire and I was the talk of the town
The forest of my trust looked like a leftover bomb site
My heart was mutilated and torn to shreds
She was the butcher holding the knife
The only lifeline I knew was gone and I was holding on by threads
I wanted her to know I was hurting but she didn't care about my strife
In the end I'll get my revenge
I will become everything she failed to appreciate
For it will be myself that I avenge
And once I'm free my heart will no longer be an inmate
I will become everything she searches for
But I won't be around when she knocks on my door
your smile brings me the most joy I've ever felt; seeing you happy and LIVING again gave me the strength to keep going. I know that mentally you are not okay and I know that I can't fix that. even if I can't fix it by loving you, I will do anything in my power to bring happiness into your life again. I will love you on good days and bad days and all the days in between, I will love you until my last breath escapes my lungs. you were my first and I want you to be my last. I've never been able to see myself having a future with anyone else because I could never see a future for myself, but you, you give me something to look forward to. I want to take care of you, love you until our last days. I have fallen head over heals in love with you becca anne and it's the most terrifying and exciting thing I've experienced.
Her room was chaos; clothes thrown everywhere, bed unmade, and junk piling every open spot. Even though her father told her time and time again that she needs to find a solution to this trainwreck, the messiness never seemed to cease. She had attempted to tidy up, but somehow the mess would always return; always lurking in the back of her mind, taunting her every second. She washed her ***** clothes, threw away the trash, got rid of unnecessary items, but the mess always returned. She began to lose hope, nothing would bring this to an end. Each time she tried to stop the mess it grew stronger and got progressively worse. Her friends had started telling her she needs to clean her, but she always had an excuse. She would constantly say how she was always too busy, but it was a lie; she had all the time in the world, but she knew her friends just wouldn’t understand how the mess was her own personal bully; it never left her alone and it was a constant reminder of how her disorderly her life had become. One day, she finally broke. Her goal to have a clean room had been demolished and engrossed into the mess itself; similar to her other goals and aspirations. The mess began to spread; her locker overflowed with useless papers, her car filled to the brim with futile garbage; it followed her everywhere. The grogginess from her bedroom poured into the sky, turning it a terrifying shade of gray; lessening her hope drastically. Every single thing she did contributed to the mess and she just couldn’t take it anymore. She went home and just lay there in her unkempt bed with her ***** laundry and empty water bottles and she allowed the mess to overtake her. She stayed trapped inside this mess she created until it consumer her; like it had consumed every other aspect of her life. She never found a solution to the never ending mess.
a star-soaked ocean stands between who I am and who I want to become and I'm stuck on a boat with no paddle.
idling softly, I await for someone, something, to give me a wave of stability.
I wish to reach happiness the way the tides reach the shore daily but I've began to think it impossible.
I fell in love with this ocean quicker than any girl because the tides come and go the same as I.
there's an occasional island of hope that I can take refuge in and I think to myself "I can do this, I can beat this",
but in comes a tidal wave of emotions to take that away from me and I find myself stranded in this star-soaked ocean, softly idling, waiting.
I used to love writing
but then it started to feel more like a task
at that point
it became less enjoyable
I'm afraid I've lost my touch
When I want to write a poem
nothing comes to mind but an empty slate
along with losing myself
I think I've lost my creativity
this is more of a vent post than a poem sorry