What is poetry? Is it music? Is it love? Is it boring? Is it magic?
Poetry, to me, is medicine.
Reading it is like my grandmother rubbing a soothing balm across my wounds. Writing it is like crying: the tears that never leave my eyes leave my pen instead, trailing across the page to bleed in ways that would **** me if the ink were blood from my body.
Fighting to stay alive
Easy to just let go
Now under the waters depth
With the soul as still as the water
I cry for the things I can't have though I shouldn't.
I cry for the dog that lives next door locked on the roof.
I cry for the old man who can't see though it's better if he doesn't or else
he will see the unjust world.
I cry for the girl who isn't here cause she was taken away at a very young age.
I cry for the boy who doesn't have any friends because he isn't normal.
But most of all....
I cry just to let it all out.
This poem tells you to let out the bottled emotions you have had inside of you for a long time. It is better to let it all out than to keep it inside of you and ruin you.
Is it fun to watch me break down
You see me but you won't help me
You see me beg you for help
But you turn your back
You let me down
When you should've lifted me up
My heart has suffered enough
So why do you make it
Suffer more than it needs to be?
I'm insecure and I know you can see that, but you pretend you don't
I always comfort you,
But when it comes down to it
I was only chosen by you until someone else needed you
Then you would toss me away
Instead of saying I'm breaking
I guess you could say I've been
I've always comforted and helped others, but I will never be given a helping hand or be conforted by another besides my self.
I remember when I was a kid.
Nothing hid, aware what I did.
Nowadays 12 year olds are doing what god forbid.
instagram captions: "I drink to forget"
What the hell has gone wrong?!
Bad habits like adults when they're still young!
Careless choices aren't regrettable!
Can be invincible, but horrible.
Yet feeling the burden when too young
everything is hurting.
a cause of unfixable situations
But won't come to the realisation
until experiencing the violation of their world
A wise favour is to act fast and stop "acting" bold...
because teenage is never on hold.
The hardest part of your death
Was not the muchness you took away
How easily life went on
The sun still rose sharp at 4 like always
The trains rattling away on time
The birds singing the same old songs like yesterday
Strange isn’t it?
Nothing has changed.
Nothing paled now that you’re gone
Life, my life, kept moving forward
It’s steady pace terrifyingly normal
Just a shadow of you seemed to remain
Locked deep within the lost sea of my soul
Your memories, that stupid smile, Forgotten
The world moved on.
Unchanged by the suddenness of your passing
Unphased by the hole you left behind
In my shockingly unstable soul
A place you once called home
A home now dusty and empty
In an endless eternity of waiting
I open my heart to many
Desperately reaching out,
But no one ever seems to notice
I break down my fence countless
Times, but you don't realize
How much I need you or
How depression Controls me
No one knows that a small little girl thought that no one needed her
So she almost took her life
And she was only in second grade
Or how countless times the little girl
Pretends to be tough,
But inside she's slowly losing her mind and how she reaches out for help, no one ever seems to realize what the small little girl is going through 'cause she never told anyone
Later the little girl was convinced
That help will never come.
No one ever realized
Just between us,
sounds of regret,
the same way my tongue
marinates in vowels,
and 'my sorry'
lies as heavy and hollow
in my Chevy trunk
among the thousands
that I have kept.
About the days, gone, and passed away
live the lives of gentle men who walked with grace
who lived , embraced, and left a trace, of fragrant melody
The phase, that once humanity embraced, sing me a song
Of gentle souls, of glory days, of winters cold
How manhood bloomed, and sun was bright
how beauty won the desperate fight
How love has cut the silent night
Sing, let me absorb, the beauty of the perfect world
In your song i shall dissolve, sing me about days of old
I want to be one with the grace, of gentle men that left this trace ..
— The End —