Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
del Feb 2018
heavy-hearted;
i wonder where my sanity has gone
for to fall in love with someone like you
is utterly bizarre
i hate you; you're cruel and blunt
unknowing of your actions
or the words that escape from your mouth
you're exactly the kind of person
i cannot stand
masochistic in pain i can see
i fell in love with you between arguments
somewhere along the way my hate twisted into attraction
my spite turned on itself
my heart finds the person i would dislike the most
and decided i must fall in love
the follies of being young mean
being submissive to the urges of a
self-destructive soul
del Feb 2018
my throat is on fire
clenching twisted words
withholding wicked truths
not meant to be revealed
burning silently in rage
will the blaze consume my voice
before it hurts another?
del Feb 2018
even as i twist sophisticated words into
poison that travels through hearts
that i know are mine
i wonder if such cruelty is
befitting to such a masochistic person
i turn the same words on myself
hate the people who are like me
because i spot every flaw in their design
i read them like books
understanding the brutal mask they hold over their heads
and i rip them to shreds because
if i hate myself, i hate them equally
i hate their naivete
i hate their trust
i hate their humor and their actions
they reflect mine, and no one wants two of me
everything i have said to you
i have said to myself a thousand times over
sorry honey,
that's how the games are played
del Feb 2018
fluorescent light illuminates
makeup brushes and foundation
concealer and contour
she sits in front of the mirror,
diligently applying
a youtube tutorial playing in the background
her small hands shake
her cheeks have not yet lost their baby fat
she hates her chubbiness
in her youth, she envies the skinny
the pretty, the ones with the cool moms
who let them do whatever they want
thin faces and thick layers of wavy hair
arched eyebrows and immaculate eyeliner
she wants to be like an instagram model
with a hundred-watt smile and tan skin
she wants to be a perfect person
she pats on the blush
she eats less
she becomes a shadow of a person
she loses it all to be fake
isn't that a little too much
for a girl to handle?
not yet an adult
almost a teenager
they grow up too fast
to reach what they think is perfection
to attain the life they see in movies
in snapchat stories and romcom tv shows
"beauty is pain" but
they take it too far.
del Feb 2018
written pages of meaningless drabble
insignificant metaphors and
twisted backstage tension
unknowingly expectant
hoping for acknowledgement for
whispered cries for help
fantasy mixed with two drops of reality
can you find what is real?
don't worry, neither can i
within fraying leather backed journals
contain tear-stained pages and scrawled words
worthless in their naivety
wallowing in their misery
the best way to love is
to spill your heart into relentless pages
and burn the book
del Feb 2018
too obsessive of being
the best, number one for attention
quietly sneak backhanded comments
behind their backs
fake smiles and denial if confronted
but a "is she really wearing that?" when left alone
a snake in disguise and proud
keep up a good girl image to the teachers
keep up a narcissistic ***** image to the peers
tag an @everyone in my poetry
to get much-needed validation
scorn those with better writing and less experience
dismiss natural talent as a hypocrite
once proud of my lies; flaunting without a care
now not as proud yet
it's the only way i can win
life is a game
the end winner is the survivor
del Feb 2018
raindrops splatter on the ground
shattering into thousands of fragments
splattering on the flooded ground and drenched umbrellas
desolate gray skies surrounding a dead city
peaceful in its misery
lights shine dimmer, shrouded in a blanket of water
a muted city of monochrome colors

shaded under an overpass
hot styrofoam cups cupped in shivering hands
noodles slurped up to the rhythm of the rain
wooden chopsticks and thirsty throats chasing cheap food
slight kick of spice mixed with warmth in bottomless stomachs
excited smiles and quiet jokes
protecting the sanctity of the diluted sounds of life
teenage foolishness leading to soaking wet jackets and rosy cheeks
cigarettes inhaled under the safety of the cement above

i sit at an open window,
dreaming of those days
nostalgia filling my veins and
nothing feels as bittersweet as the
smell of an open ramen cup and the taste of nicotine on my tongue
time stays still for the rain.
Next page