Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I love the feeling of knowing I'm nothing;
I have to because I never feel like something.
I'm a worthless pile of ****, I know
With too much pride inside to let it show.
I'm falling and falling from a great height
Around me they laugh thinking I'm a funny sight
I've never been loved and know that no one ever will
Not a tear will be shed until death has made his ****
And over my grave all those who laughed will cry
And I wonder if it's best for me to be dead or alive
At least if I **** myself, people will learn
A lesson and their conscience will burn
With all the regret and sorrow they feel
While at the grave yard they cry as they kneel

These words spill unto the page before me
Using these words, my pain everyone else can see
All I have now are words and a page
And I scream them as if I'm onstage
To the masses of people that walk by me each day
My mind is in total disarray
Why don't you hear me?
Why don't you see?
I scream at them as they walk by
I'm so alone and I begin to cry
The screaming was all in my head
none of them could hear what I said
Just a little girl shopping with her family
That was the only thing of me they could see

Why do the tears sting my eyes so?
The salt in them, this I know
But there must be something more
That makes my eyes so sore
My family hates the world in which I want to be
On nothing do we ever agree
I want to be who I really am
I want to just get rid of all them
Cause them all the same amount of pain
As me and how hard I try to stay sane
Hate is a dull word compared
To what I feel because you never really cared
I want to **** myself because of all the pain I feel
If I died, would you go to my grave, and cry as you kneel?

I shall write forever more
Right until the day I knock on hell's door
Until the end of the world shall come
And god bears yet another only son
Until never more shall the sun rise
Is when I will never again open my eyes
Ashes unto ashes and dust unto dust
Sooner or laster, join them I must
But until then I bid thee farewell
While inside of a hole I shall dwell
No one will care to look for me
No one will bother their eyes to see
No one will with me even plea
To come back home once more
This poem probably wont make much sense due to the frame of mind I was in at the time, but I'm might as well post it up here, lol.
Love Is A Thing
impossible to understand
Love Is A Thing
which no one can command
Love Is A Thing
completely indestructible
Love Is A Thing
whose secrets are unknowable
Love Is A Thing
that can cause you much pain
Love Is A Thing
which you cannot tame
Love Is A Thing
that is sometimes binding
Love Is A Thing
whose ropes are so binding
LOVE
is nothing else, but
LOVE
First poem I ever wrote! It was during the middle of Math in grade four.
"Just Like The Rain
falls unto the earth
And Angles Roost There Weary Wings on the clouds
May you fall
time comes you need rest
fall unto me
roost those solemn wings of emotion on my shoulder"

just a simple poem you wrote
look at how deep a simple poem can be
this I why I must note
how much you mean to me
this poem you thought pathetic
and I diss and scorn my own poems
I thought yours was prophetic
you claim I'm the best writer you ever met

we always seem to be equalent
no matter how the tables are turned
what to do now, I am ambivalent
it's like I'm your exact silhouette
this peom has a terrible rhyming scheme
"A, B, A, C, D, E, D, C"
I mean, talk about a little extreme
but you see, my poems are pictures of my mind
and my mind is pretty confusing
everything whirling, my thoughts never end
it's myself, I'm always abusing
you always come though with words that are kind
just like the rain, my tears fall onto your shoulder
you are always there to help me
you are an immovable boulder
a beacon of light in the confusion and darkness of this world
you are such a lucky friend for me to possess
thank-you so much for caring like you do
no matter what happens you'll be my friend nevertheless
my solemn wings of emotion, are now unfurled
and I fly

"Just Like The Rain
falls unto the earth
And Angles Roost There Weary Wings on the clouds
May you fall
time comes you need rest
fall unto me
roost those solemn wings of emotion on my shoulder"
Yeah... Sort of an old old poem. It's sort of self explanitory... The beginning and ending parts are exact quotes from my friend. I just copy and pasted what he said, that's why the capitals are all messed up, lol.
overdrive
overdrive
can't stop thinking
can't stop moving
overdrive
overdrive
everything reminding
everything colliding
overdrive
overdrive
it all just keeps repeating
it all just keeps repeating
overdrive
overdrive
someone please come help
please just someone help
overdrive
overdrive
his name pops up
his face pops up
overdrive
overdrive
I just cannot stop
I just want to stop
Please Help!
OVERDRIVE
Somewhat new poem...
The school bell rings.
Now I face the prospect
of the after school torment;
all around backstabbing.

People who say
that they're my friend.
Their promises they bend.
this happens every day.

Whenever I go home,
nothing's ever different.
The constant feel of abandonment.
The fact my life is irrelevant.
I have always been transparent.
The world is warped and bent.
Nothing ever a coincident.
Accused of being a delinquent.
I am nothing more than entertainment.
Our messed up version of government.
Fear is a purposeful instrument.
Breaking down, I cry until spent.
I feel the constant imprisonment.
I am not free to roam.

This is my day.
This is my life.
All I deserve
All I am.
All I'll ever be.
What's the point of suffering through each day?
Why am I even alive?
Why not end it now, with a blade of a knife?
My arms dripping red tears of sorrow.
Never again a tormented tomorrow.
The pain.
The suffering.
The humiliation.
It would all end.

No more days
of screaming into my pillow.
No more days
of crying out in pain.
No more days
of sitting in shadows.
No more days
of being afraid.
So why not end it all?
Here in the shadows?
Where,
no one will see me,
no one will care.
Because, there is
no one who sees me,
no one who cares.
...Reealy old poem...

— The End —