Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2014 a h
Marigold
and only now the sun arises,
he'd been hiding all day,
raising his head towards you
''are you happy now?'' he asks.
and you question yourself
and your two steps forward,
three steps back
lifestyle.
Are you happy now?
or were you then?
repeating mistakes,
time and again,
feet placed on the unsteady stone,
feel it rock beneath your weight,
and wonder to yourself
how cold the water
will be.
Colder than it looks.
for sure.
There had been an awful lot of waiting
around, and about.
And isn't it sad
that out stretched hands
cannot be trusted
to be there when you fall
off your unsteady rock,
your high horse,
your higher hopes.
"Hello sun." you say,
"nice to see you." you say,
"I'm not sure I know the answer just yet."
the sun closes his eyes and nods.
"I have seen your kind before."
he says.
 Jun 2014 a h
unknown
Always look in multiple perspectives to view the full picture.
If you are quick to judge
you're basing your judgement off a cropped version of the picture.
When you walk around the picture
you begin to realize it is three dimensional.
You will become
enlightened
when you finally introduce yourself to the new details and to what the picture truly is.
 May 2014 a h
Forgotten Dreams
Why?
Why do you hurt yourself?
Why?
Why must you bleed?
Why?
Why do you cry a lot?
Why?
Why do this to me?
Why?
Why can't you talk about it?
Why?
Why do you like your scars?
Why?
Why would you want to keep them?
Why?
Why do you avoid me?
Why?
Why did you do it?
Why?
Its not a poem >.< just a list of questions that should never be asked
 May 2014 a h
mia
tired.
 May 2014 a h
mia
i'm tired of being unhappy.
i'm tired of being the ugly and stupid friend.
i'm tired of being the ugly and stupid daughter.
i'm tired of putting everyone first when i get
put last.
i'm tired of feeling worthless.
i'm tired of being
myself.
my demons are screaming
and this time,
i won't fight back.
*i give up.
this is pretty ****** lol, but eh, this is how i feel atm.
 May 2014 a h
Joshua Haines
Urijah
 May 2014 a h
Joshua Haines
Carcinogenic gasps
between photogenic thighs
create esoteric muscle movement
that moves me inside.
Your parents are therapists,
and mine choose not to be alive;
the words they say
don't work for moments we hide.

Jesus Christ before the sunset rust,
if I'm so alive
then why do I lust
absence.

There's a place
where I'd like to drown
every Saturday.
The water's warm
and thick in my lungs
and I'm no longer afraid.

Colliding with epinephrine,
your neck thrusts forward;
you kiss the steering wheel.
"Do you know
how much
you mean to me?"
Your eyes meet mine  
before disappearing in the glass mist.
I love you.
Next page