Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I haven't eaten in two days,
Barely sleep at night
And now I'm crying
Crying and I want to *****

~ ~ ~

I love you without end
No point of cease
You're everything
That I will ever need
I'm already upset about my grandfather, mother, and my Bird.
Now I'm fighting the anxiety induced urge to retch.
When I haven't written for as long as I have,
I begin to think of any possible inspiration.
I have kissed and made love,
I have argued with others and battled myself.

Since no inspiration has arisen, I find myself
Torn between searching the ends of the Earth
And giving up.

Words are the building blocks of the modern world,
And I am unable to use them like I used to.
I find my poetry becoming essay-like.
Robotic. Empty. Hollow. When I speak my poetry,
I lack passion. My vocal chords leave me flat.
It may be spreading to my mind.

I lack passion for words and emotions all together
I am purely physical. I express my emotions in
An ordinary way, but I would rather sing and write.
I am becoming lost.
I never wanted to be a poet
I wanted to be a monster-hunter
Until the day I found out
How much scarier thoughts are
Now
I hunt those instead
Boys kiss boys
And girls kiss girls
And boys and girls kiss

Get over it.
Your gone now
And
Im not sure
If im happy
Or just, incredibly sad beond words
Because you where so important
And then
You turned.
And i saw you
Not the you that i had fallen in love with
Not the you who was my best friend for five years
I saw the you
Who didnt care.
Ignorant
small minded
and selfish
You left.
Or was that me?
Your point of view maybe.
Ps-a year and a half is more than 5 months.
I wish I knew how to
Freeze myself
In a cryochamber
So I could wake up
In fifty years or so
When no one will
Remember me
Or what I've done
I have weird thoughts.
Leaning on the windowsill,
You look to the night and stare,
Where you should be sleeping.
You never think that,
Someone could be staring back.
Nobody sees you there;
But why should you care when,
That windowsill,
Is all you have to lean on,
I know it's depressing;
To watch the rain is interesting.
You can't express a feeling,
When your sunk below the boat,
Your not really there inside,
Your out there with no coat.
I don't need to stress when nothing matters,
Feelings broken, left there in tatters.
So I'm staying up,
To soak up the sadness.
Where I can watch the rain.
What lies in a puddle,
Lay there in vain.
Nobody sees the pain,
You go through.
Leaning on the windowsill.
But I do.
I don't want there to be a day where I have to read a speech at my best friend's funeral because she commited suicide.

I don't want to have to say how cruel and horrid the world is to destroy such an amazing and innocent person.

I don't want to watch her happiness wipe away from her face as sadness and darkness plagues her heart.

I don't wanna get that call in the middle of the night telling me my friend is gone.

I don't want to dream of her smiling, to wake up to a dying soul.
But a dream is only a dream..

I don't want to be watched by a ghost of a friend who didn't want to live.

But, it's happening. People will keep being cruel to the most loving people, until they no longer want to be in this hell.

I don't want to watch a friend die.

Please don't make me.
Next page