Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2018
Kate Lion
strangers hold up scoring cards as I pass by
6
4
8
3
i pretend not to notice them, but I do

I try to pretend like I enjoy talking about myself
when people ask me stupid questions about my life:
"where do you work?"
"how are the wedding plans coming?"
"are you going to school?"

all of which hold very little importance
so I shy away from them
perhaps it is because I do not feel worthy of such attention
cannot grasp that some people genuinely wish to know

I don't show love or interest like that
sometimes I am afraid that I am not capable of loving at all

but that-
is a silly notion
scrawled up on Lucifer's drawing table
he wishes for me to be miserable, as he is
why do I succumb to the lies

I feel incomplete sometimes (always)
and I wonder if Pacman feels like an incomplete ball of sunshine, too

"Sunshine," he calls me.

and I shrink from my lover,
because I don't know what to do with my darkness.
 Apr 2018
Emily Reider
One million eyes
And I am so self centered to think
That they are judging me
One million negative thoughts are being fed to my brain
But they are just one million lies
Because out of one million people
The only one judging myself
is me
 Apr 2018
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
 Apr 2018
lyka
The first time she looked up
She fell in love with the sky
Her heart reaching higher
The only answer was to fly

So she made wings of her heart
Carved dreams into feathers
Bid farewell to earth
And fluttered towards ether

But gravity loved her too
Had no intention to let go
Pulled her firmly to the ground
And broke her wings in woe
 Apr 2018
chiharu
i wont tell you
that you remind me
of the stars.

i wont compare you to something
so vastly different.

you see, darling,
the stars will never
be closer to me
than they are now.
i will admire from afar,
but the stars dont
feel like home.

you feel like home.
 Apr 2018
Mister Granger
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
 Apr 2018
LB Parker
If she is "fake"
then so am I
while she covers her face
with expensive concealer and mascara
I hide my pain
with long sleeves and cheap smiles
either way
nobody knows
what we truly look like
With love,
kelsey
Next page