This will not be a flowery prose
Wrapped in an imaginary love heart
This will be my new beginning
Writing this will be a start

This is not a love story
That people love to hate
There is just the start and then the end
In between does not even rate

This is not where I will beg
With flowery words of love forgotten
This is where I’ll say to you
To me, all we had now smells rotten

This will never be a love sonnet
Whispered through the sands of time
But to me, as I remember all to be
It will remind me of you, you slime!

This is not a love poem
No longer even a love song
The bitterness of my tears
Have dragged on far too long

This is not the happy ending
I dreamed of to be true, so
This is where you kiss my ***
While assuming I’ll pine for you

I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."

Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.

To these words please listen close,
The fairytale's not true,
An ugly duckling you never were,
You're a swan who never flew,
For your wings of brilliant white,
Wild dogs have torn apart,
They sought and they succeeded,
In stalling your depart,
Too many years upon the ground,
It's not your natural place,
Amongst the bottom feeders,
Who lack your style, your grace,
But sometimes baby fate is kind,
Sometimes gods they care,
For here I am carrying love,
And tools for wing repair,
So if I can I'll mend your woes,
With string and superglue,
And when you spread your wings and fly,
I'll hitch a ride with you.

from the wisdom of an old woman
who had a sick husband shot in the chest
five centimeters to the east
so close to the heart, he even survived
The Second World War
had seven children
and a good but short life.

old face sunburned  and sweaty,
old soul full of memories that keep her
dream awake of what was
a lifetime ago she whispers slowly from nowhere.

sometimes I'm afraid of her power
but when she speaks I'm covered in emotions
I wish that all can be the same
like once upon a time
*today, tomorrow and every day.

So I had to put some effort into
finding things I regret these days,
but it wasn't too hard coming from
a bitter mindset.
Come to think of it,
I regret many years of my life,
even if I don't regret the people.
Sincerely wish that wasn't the case,
but whatever, right?
Pour me another glass of anything,
I think I'm drinking anticoagulants
these days, but remembering
is so **** painful,
I forget...
The numbers on these pencils,
so I switched to ink;
Now I cover up the mistakes
I used to erase.
Now when you call me
I don't answer quite
the same way I used to.
Now when people look
for me, they find me lost
or wandering somewhere
I really shouldn't be.
Sitting in living rooms
with pictures of people
who aren't smiling.
Fix me a drink!
No, fix the one in my hands,
or the one in the back of my
skull.
"Fix something already",
he said, comprehending
the wounds were indeed
fatal already, yet eventually.

The light is too shy to dance with their breath.
Shivering German roads love the massage of Jewish feet.
If only the Angles weren’t too busy with me;
Tommy called me dumb and I needed God’s help.

Not even a pocket full of posies can scent moldy dreams.
24 is too young to give up, but old enough to be tired of fighting.
Our future has seen too many yesterdays to wait for tomorrow.
The world holds life together by thin threads we’re too eager to cut.

Sometimes I feel lonely
I'm not alone
I have a boyfriend
And great friends
But within myself
I feel abandoned
I feel lost, abused, and afraid
But mostly I'm lonely
I don't know why
All I know is I'm dying inside
It's horrible in my mind
I need stability
I need internal security
It's terrible to be lonely