Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tear-stained cheeks stare back at me Blotchy and burning in the mirror As the daggers I threw at you Came flying back to meet me When I cried at the sight Of my waist and hips I would always depreciate Your face, body, and lips The way I’d splatter The blood from my wounds onto you As if my pain was an excuse To hurt a child like you And now I feel my face Shifting into something new Melting, molding into those who hurt me once before Now I’m yearning for A trenchant blade wrapped in lace So I could excise the rot From my infected core I miss the sweetness I used to hold The joys I used to spread around But now I’ve run so cold So I don’t speak a sound I’m so sick of myself I wish I’d praised you growing up Building you proud and vibrant And yet I shattered how you used to admire me During your first memories in childhood I pressed a sizzling red stamp Onto your self-worth And yet you still followed me There’s no string of words I could ever say To make any of your pain go away What’s done is done Maybe the solution to this problem is my death Because this is the only solution left.
0
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 4:58 AM UTC
The final solution.
Tear-stained cheeks stare back at me Blotchy and burning in the mirror As the daggers I threw at you Came flying back to meet me When I cried at the sight Of my waist and hips I would always depreciate Your face, body, and lips The way I’d splatter The blood from my wounds onto you As if my pain was an excuse To hurt a child like you And now I feel my face Shifting into something new Melting, molding into those who hurt me once before Now I’m yearning for A trenchant blade wrapped in lace So I could excise the rot From my infected core I miss the sweetness I used to hold The joys I used to spread around But now I’ve run so cold So I don’t speak a sound I’m so sick of myself I wish I’d praised you growing up Building you proud and vibrant And yet I shattered how you used to admire me During your first memories in childhood I pressed a sizzling red stamp Onto your self-worth And yet you still followed me There’s no string of words I could ever say To make any of your pain go away What’s done is done Maybe the solution to this problem is my death Because this is the only solution left.
Lovestreet1968
Written by
F/Colorado
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 4:58 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem