p 2d

it's been a while
and i still miss you
but it's getting better

i don't feel a tidal wave in my eyes every time i think of you
my hands don't clam up at the sound of your name

i would say
somedays i don't even think of you
but that would be a lie

the truth is,
you'll always be in my head
and in my heart

and i don't know if that's good or bad
p Aug 11
it hurts a lot more than you think when you stop loving someone

i want to love him
i think he's amazing
he blows my mind in every way possible
but it doesn't feel like i love him
i say it back when he says it
but a wave of guilt crashes over me
every time

i try to tell myself that maybe our "honeymoon phase" is over
or maybe i'm just going through a trough
"it's just a phase", he tells me
but the more it simmers inside of me
the more cemented it becomes

maybe i'm just a horrible person
maybe i don't deserve love
if i can't love back
maybe something's wrong with me
maybe i'm heartless


maybe it's all the times i've done everything for you
and you have never returned that
when i give you the littlest things
and you never even say "thank you"
when i sit here and talk you through the tough times
and when i'm going through something tough
you don't feel like talking
maybe it's your over-inflated ego
that is starting to get really annoying
or the fact you think everything is about you
perhaps it's the little things
like how you purposely say particular things
just to "get my reaction because it's funny"
maybe it's the way you overanalyse every single bit of me
i feel like i can't breathe with you around
because if one breath is out of place
i'll be slaughtered for it
maybe it's because of how sad you make me all the time
or how mad you make me all the time
maybe it's how you never show me you love me
the way it feels like you just don't care
maybe you don't

maybe that's why
i don't too

i'm sorry
this isn't really poetry but it's literally from the rawest place in my heart right now and i sit here crying my eyes out as i write this, i'm sorry
p Aug 11
i'm happy now
i'd be lying to myself if i said
i'm not over you

i can breathe freely now
never believe that
the memories of our love still live in my head

i'm better off without you
you will never hear me say
i wish you were still here

i hate you
it would be stupid to assume
i still love you
now read it backwards! x
p Aug 9
my stomach is the abyss of the deep ocean
and my heart is a pilotless submarine
i wrote a whole big poem and i cut everything out except for these two lines oh well
p Aug 8
the way his eyes are glued to his screen
his hands never taking a break
but always breaking

his temper
when he loses a game
his happiness
when he wins one

he’s addicted
addicted to that little screen
that tiny stupid little screen
that stupid game
that stupid, cursed game

he has no capacity for human interaction
at his best, i get a wave every now and again
at his worst, i get a wave every now and again

it hurts
i can’t save him
i don’t know how to
p Aug 8
I am just one of a doomed world
and I do not believe
my life has meaning.
Most people may find it hard to understand that
“our world is essentially a utopia”
is nothing but a deception, and
“society was made to fall apart”.
In thirty years time, we will be preaching to our friends that
they are not the most important aspect of our lives.
My government will realise that
my mindset will forever remain clear because
my ego
is more important than
my environment.
It will be known to everyone that
the world consisted of nothing but happiness and serendipity in its purest form
but this will not ring true in my time.
This is a world doomed for the worst.
My elders warn me
My children will be born into a dying middle class.
I do not accept that
I will be working in a job that genuinely makes me happy.
Later in life
science will be useless.
No longer can we believe
our generation is actually going places.
It will forever be obvious that
my future holds as much as an empty glass.
It is sickeningly preposterous to assume
there is hope.
read it backwards when you're done!

this was actually one of my poems from last year that i did for an assignment
p Aug 7
it’s like i’m watering plants
but the water is my blood
and it drains my veins
leaving me scarred and bruised

but hey, at least the plant is alive
- setting myself alight to keep my friends warm
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