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Oh, how I miss the sweet burdens of love
that used to hold me hostage.
I wish I could feel my racing heart,
my rising shame,
and terrific jealousy.
I long for the way my face would go red,
and miss the time I had a reason to get out of bed.
I wish I could find one person to love
and for them to love me back.
Sarah 1d
i dont want to write another poem about you
i dont want to be thinking about you
i dont want you inside my head
but how could the best thing that's ever happened to me
hurt so bad?
i am no poet,
i write with no meaning.
not every word has a point.
i don't ooze with passion
or drip with description.
i am no poet.
just a girl pretending to be.
a young teen pretending to be a poet
me?
I've lost count of everything I've been called.
Some think I'm as audacious as a spectacular lion.
Others find me jumpy, skittish. Like a coal-colored kitten in the middle of Manhattan.
Maybe, I'm just a cold-blooded snake, full of venom, rage, and aggression.
I'm not quite sure anymore, really.
I could just as easily be a magpie, an omen of death.
However,
I know I'm something
much
much
worse.
I'm
me.
And I am the worst creature I've ever met.
The eerie irritability
Of this disgustingly demeaning state
I find my myself in,
The essence of my existence,
Every bit of what creates me,
Grosses me to my very core
It's a phase, a recurring feeling.
Only once in a while,
this once in a blue moon sorta thing
Makes simply existing a chore.
The minor failures,
Become large enough to make me forget,
All other achievements I worked for.
This face turns quite simply, ugly
As my pride and self respect slowly rots
I turn into a hallowed figure, crawling
Wanting help; support,
Clinging to the first thing I find.
Worst of all,
I know it only last a few days
And when it's gone,
I'm empty again.
Is it my need for approval,
My weak character,
Can I not stand on my own.
What has all this come to?
Oh look, it's that point in my life. Again
Martin Dove Oct 5
I am a drill
A sharp turning drill
I make holes in the ground
With an unstoppable will
I don’t want to break you
Just make a few holes
So that light can shine through
Illuminate more than your nose
If you grant me clearance
I’ll give you more holes
They will puncture dead skin
Drill through old broken bones
Just be not afraid
Though it might hurt a bit
I’m willing to help
For I feel I’m in debt
Later I might explain this in-depth
Are you dying to get free?
Or simply dying
Open your mind
And I will help you see
Together we can be
More than originally you were supposed to be
I am a thorn.
A prick.
You’ve mistaken me for the beautiful rose, that spreds solar flare petals.
You’ve tried to pick the stupendous flower, but you’re fingers sink into the sharp thorns.
I taste your metallic blood, and watch as I hurt you.
I’m a thorn.
I am no rose
I am no beauty
I am sharp
and I am bitter
I
I, the shortest word,
I, my true self,
I,the creator of myself,
I, a paragon,
I, exist to be loved,cherished and respected.
I, with am inspires me,
Frees my heart,
Restores my mind.
I am who I am,
I am what I am,
I am enough.
I am the love of my own life,
I am my own questions and answers,
I am the judge of my own reflection.
I am the captain of my own ship,
I cross my own oceans,
Over calm or rough seas.
I am my own artist,
I choose my own paints to bring colours to my life.
I am the architect of my life,
I plan my own life,
I build my life with my own materials.
I am my own soul,
Beyond the time,
Beyond space,
I,my soul does not die,
I ,my soul follows me to hereafter.
ShrutiDadhich Sep 26
I'm dead,
I have already committed suicide,
No you can see me,
You can feel me,
You can read me,
But you can't find even a single reason to call me alive,
No I haven't got cut on my hand,
& haven't ever tried to hang,
But I have got my heart bleed,
I have got it broken,
I couldn't actually die,
& sorry I'm unable to keep myself alive,
Not my fault,
cause I'm the one
never loved,
never cared,
never caressed,
never being consoled,
never being hold...
So here is a midway,
So here is a dead me,
With a human body,
Healthy & fit
A kinky kit!!!
What if I can't cut my lifeline,
I have already cut my connections with life & now I think it's all fine...
Sorry for this negative poem, but it's just a way to dry my tears away & make my eyes deserted again, & stick that fake so called lovely smile again...
I wish I could donate my life to someone who seriously wanted it!!!
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