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Jaide Lynne Mar 2016
I am constantly haunted by the mistakes of my past...

I am constantly plagued by the what if in my present...

I live in fear of the choices in my future...

I am terrified of the unknown, of the maybes, of the decisions I will never make or never made.
  Mar 2016 Jaide Lynne
Sage
Sometimes. I envy the clouds. The ability to escape large crowds, where stagnant lines come from pained mouths, lines of songs yet unwritten to lines of pain and hatred. Lines that make others wish they were dead where they stand just so someone else can feel content with themselves. This disgusting creature of a society churns like a hungry machine, eating the ignorant teen and spewing out those with a mental illness. Allowing these people to play their bodies like violins and to play target practice with the roof of their mouths. So yeah, sometimes I do envy the clouds.
  Mar 2016 Jaide Lynne
Sage
This pen and paper feeds a hungry mind. A mind that's driven by thoughts that drive the deprived. The deprived mind is a mind which is filled with inconsistencies. Inconsistencies of ideas that were never finished. Finished ideas reap rewards only I can understand. Understanding the motives of finishing ideas is difficult for me to process. Processing endings for me is like trying to get a dog to chase an invisible ball. A ball which is full of non-existent closings. A close is something I can never agree with myself on. On the end of a page is something that never occurs to my mind. A mind that is deprived. Deprived like the end of th
Jaide Lynne Jan 2016
9w
I'm glad I am still alive to love you
Jaide Lynne May 2015
You are the worst thing that has ever happened… to my poetry

You see I used to write poems that make people want to set fire to the world, and cry an ocean. I used to write about death, and depression, and hope, and how I am finally okay with who I am. I use to write to inspire, I used to write about the demons under my bed and the ones in my head. I could write poems about my fears and my dreams and how messed up this world is. But lately, all I have been about to write about is you.

Roses are red, violets are blue, my poetry has gone to **** and its all thanks to you

My poetry has gone from a ***** the world mentality to what ever this sappy stuff I have been writing lately is called.

My poems are about your smile and how it can light up a room better than 1,000 suns

They are about how I get butterflies every time I see you and how there are fireworks when we kiss

They are full of overused analogies, like fireworks and butterflies

They have gone from being about how sometimes I get so scared of everything my heart beats out of my chest to being about how my heart skips a beat when you say my name

They have gone from how music is my catharsis to how when you play music I think I lose the ability to breathe correctly.  

They are about how it takes you 20 minutes to get ready because you have to re-lace your shoes every time.

They use to be about how I am scared. I am scared of failure, I am scared not doing anything with my life, I am scared of spiders, I am scared of things changing. But all I can write about is how I am terrified of losing you.

My poetry is about our stupid jokes

They are about how terrified I am that you are going to see me differently when you find out that I am more messed up than I may seem.

They are about how cute you are when you are sleepy and how you are like a modern day, male, Cinderella except instead of losing your shoe at midnight you kinda lose your mind.  

You see, I have a reputation to uphold. I am the depressing and angry poetry girl, but I can’t be that when you make me so **** happy.

My poems are about all night video calls and awkward first kisses

They are about how no amount of time is nearly enough when I'm with you

They are about how we are pretty much the same person but with different faces

My poems are about your hair and how much I like it even though its always getting in my way

My poetry is about how you are the only person that manages to give me **** while simultaneously telling me I am cute

My poems are about how your eyes are like coffee, and how I love coffee, and how I love you.

Don’t you see what I mean? You are the worst thing to ever happen to my poetry, but the best things to ever happen to me.
Just some **** I wrote and performed in a competition.
  Apr 2015 Jaide Lynne
Matt
"The problem with suicide is that when it becomes an option in your mind, it's always an option."
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