raingirlpoet Nov 13

i am not bitter
i’m tired
of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded similarly with a name substituted in as allegations break

i am not privileged
to be tired of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded by way of another celebrity letting us down

i do not ignore
the bile headlines that sneak their way into my timelines
how can i?
but i am tired
of feeling let down

i am not blind
to the immense pain caused by a scream, silenced
but i am tired
of seeing the duct tape over her mouth

i wonder
if one day soon
i will no longer be bitter
or tired
of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded by way of claiming
it was her fault


Nick Huber Nov 7

I thank you,
My cold sweet lover.
That you left me in the damp, dark, frigid night.
So on my own, I could learn
The grief of stones.
That solemnly watch,
The world change above them.
And in the end, are gathered in each of your lovely hands,
To be crushed and ground,
Made into the bricks that buttress,
Your humble abode.

i accept the course you have decided to take
even though
it is not in my best interest
that in order for the both of us to be together
we'd have to surmount tempests of such measures
even those of strength could not handle them
those embodied with such dignity could not bring themselves to walk through them
as though we are in the eye of the storm
the sight of sunlight is too far from reach
rain is the only one who meets our acquaintance
and though i long for unity
i am given separation though i seek peace
i am handed chaos
even though i yearn for silence
i am ravaged with sound
i choose ecstasy
presented to me are cloudbursts and gales
i want to shake hands with lightning
and not let its venomous touch remind me of every vengeful memory i've grown accustomed to
i'd love to be moved by the words of thunder
but its piercing voice rings through me
just as yours did all those times before
i know you're blinded by your own vain
though you play the role of the titan
you are nothing more than a lightweight
though i know this is a lost cause
i will never rest till i find its meaning

they aren't always

it's grey
like the rain
going over
your head.

at other times,
it's complete
like the difficulties
of life.

how ironic it is,
that bitterness
can make it

ryan Sep 12

spite is simply in my nature
you show me your back and ill show you the knife
i give you the most genuine of my fake smiles
to gain your trust for my agenda and nothing more
and if i begin to feel bad dont worry
it wont last
instead, i cut it off and continue moving
going and going going going
spreading sickly sweet fake smiles
and half truths and things that look and feel like good intentions
"they could never hurt anyone theyre far too kind"
if only they could feel the serrated edge in their spine
as they continue to love and praise me

im. not a good person
IamJayMack Sep 3

My ship stands abandoned,
Rocking, riding, rolling in the tempest,
I stand ashore on Helena,
Waiting, watching, wanting in self exile,

I will rise again; Allied with time,
Time is your foe; True as hair grows,
Enjoy your prime; I've yet to see mine,

When my coffers cough coin I will spit fire,
As sure as you know that the sun will rise,
No winter ever lasts; long as they may seem,
And in the dead of the night I am recovering,
With the passing of time I grow stronger,
At the end of the maze is the monster,

Check your horizons daily; keep a vigil,
One cold day you'll be spent and vulnerable,
You'll find the mountain beacons burning,
A thousand sails paint the distance white,
With a fear you simply cannot ascertain,
I fall, but I rise, I rise again.

I want to burn
Everything that I ever gave to you
I would douse myself in gasoline
And smile through the flames
But I never seem to have
Enough matches
To set this whole world ablaze

I  gave you everything and more

Darkness appears
When one is not sincere
Nothing but a cloudy scenery
As a result of the ambiguity
Lots of chaos and confusion
Along with frustration
For it is better to be forthright
Instead of putting up with a fight

Mark Lecuona Aug 2

what is old is new,
when it is discovered by children;
what is life is no longer true,
when a wise man’s words are carelessly spoken;
the age of purpose can only be measured
by the circumstance and pain of its birth;
but to send an olive branch,
flying into a storm created by your own breath;
is to send a message that cannot be accepted,
and to ask for forgiveness that cannot be expected;
for who would send kindness to its death,
except the one who never knew its worth

Cat Lynn Jul 31

Sweet to the Mouth,
but Bitter to the Body

Thanks aL1gn3d for the poem idea XD
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