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 Apr 2019 Pinkbun17
tobi
bad poetry
 Apr 2019 Pinkbun17
tobi
thank god i can’t write good poetry
the best poetry comes from pain and hurt if you ask me
so although i can’t write like i used to
at least it means i’m doing alright
hurting is healing
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
 Mar 2018 Pinkbun17
Duzy
Noose
 Mar 2018 Pinkbun17
Duzy
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
 Jul 2017 Pinkbun17
ThePoet
I'm scared of the tears

that I don't cry

The days like this

that I don't die

I'm scared of the pain

that slips my mind

It comes back harder

than what I left behind

©
 May 2017 Pinkbun17
mrmonst3r
This bed is like a coffin
With a burial each night.
I could tell you where
it all went wrong
But it wouldn't make it right.
I'm never worth
Remembering
You each showed me that.
With your pretentious self obsession
Words that always fell flat.
Each day is long and empty.
I cannot find my way,
So forgive me
Graciously
While I slowly fade away.
 Mar 2017 Pinkbun17
Traveler
ANSWERS
 Mar 2017 Pinkbun17
Traveler
I will always feel your presence
Through these quantum
Ethereal waves
These strings they bind
Through our time lines
Beyond the conscious states

Countless questions
Reasoning why
Staggeringly suspect
Those subtle lies

It seems quite complicated
Yet it's as simplistic as can be
Along came a wind of change
And blew two spirits free
...
Traveler Tim
Hay folks thanks for stopping by
Come on over and visit our side of Hello Poetry!
See ya there!
 Mar 2017 Pinkbun17
Sjr1000
The Poet
 Mar 2017 Pinkbun17
Sjr1000
he won't shut up
when he's around
he wants to write everything
keeps on formulating phrases
hallucinating
couches into flying carpets
swearing that he's seen
the ground from the sky

The Poet
we never know what he's doing -
turning black sheep
into heaven
he's stuck on the inside
looking out

The Poet
he won't shut up
but when I really need him
he's no where to be found

when he wants what
he wants
in these poems of his
I know I'll wind up
embarrassed humiliated and forlorn

The Poet
when he's around
he won't shut up
he keeps going on and on

And when he's gone
Silence.
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