Larri 1d
No one knows this, but you bleed words.
No one reads these words, for it's absurd.
To think your silly words might want to be heard.
Be cradled and be cherished,
A disappointment worth a demerit.
Have I got more time? I must spare it.
For you bleed words.
No one reads these words, for that's just absurd.
You're simply another cow led to pasture in the herd.
Follow the crowd or else you'll be picked out.
Lead a staggering speech, you must speak out loud.
So don't be an idiot and stand there bleeding words that no one has ever heard.
They want the perfect side of you so that's what you'll give them.
The shadow who's silent and bleeds blood like normal people do.
Normal.
People.
Oh god why can't you be normal?
Why must you twist these adjectives into slant rhymes?
Why must you make everything seem like a dream when all that's left for humans is to die.
Complete your task.
Be normal.
Normal people bleed blood.
You bleed poems you etched onto your wrist in colorful sharpie then hide under foolish hoodie sleeves.
Not even your mother knows this, these pained words she'll never see.
Look at me, why won't you just look at me?
Look at me bleeding.
Look at me bleeding blood.
Look at me being normal.
Why can't you be like me?
Why can I read you like a book, why can I see your thoughts with every nervous look.
Why can't you name a single poet other than yourself?
Why haven't you studied, oh lord you're so behind.
Too busy trying to find a creative way to describe colorfully dying.
You'll never be perfect.
You'll never be normal.
You bleed your words, and I bleed mine.
A letter from a 'perfect' person to someone like me, or like all poets. Someone who's different and can't really explain why. I'm new to sharing poetry but I hope this speaks to someone. Don't let anyone tell you what to write or who to be. Your mind is all you have, don't let it get corrupted. I wrote this to be read sort of fast and emotionally. <3
if i spoke the words in my head no eyes would stay dry,
my silence is protecting you from the venomous bite,
please don't ask me to speak to you.

let me disappear into the background where all are safe,
inside i bleed from wounds carved deep into the soul,
please kept away from my mind.

choking on tears is the only sound that can be heard,
doctors put band-aids on bullet wounds,
please ignore my bloody body.
Meera Jul 8
I don’t want your fingers to bleed
while holding the pieces of my broken heart

I don’t want your eyes to cry
for the pain that lives inside me

I don't want your tounge to taste blood
each time it whispers my name

I don’t your hands to shiver
while reaching for my cold soul

I don’t want you to suffocate
while drawing air to my lungs

I don’t want you to consume
the venom that flows inside my veins

I don’t want you to break down
in the process of healing me

So I’ll love you but only from a safe distance
Knowing that we don’t belong to each other
I’ll always love you
But will never show it
i think it's better this way
ella Jul 8
i am different, so you prescribe me with pills to make me feel aye-okay but now I'm that girl who takes pills. you know the girl who's fucked up in the head. the girl who had scars covering her wrists and who talks to the counselors once a week. you know who I'm talking about everyone knows her. i don't want to be that girl. that girl who's known for being sad, the one who's just never really there. the girl who you went to school with for 5 years and you still don't know her name.
Shadow Dragon Jun 24
You sting,
but at least you
could have tried.

Your thorns
are growing,
letting me bleed.
Poetic T Jun 23
Waving my tattered coat among
the waves of anger that floods
                                               past me.
I surrendered before this even began.
           homeless lullabies filtered though
my sleep the screams and echoes of
           a singular piece of lead silencing others.

But the azure bleed cerise on the pavement.
            Taking identities of fallen heroes,
never questioning but shaded beyond morals.
A tide was crashing upon the pavement of
                                                                     society.


There didn't seem to be a life of Black & White.
           but the fact that I seemed to be less
of worth than others pigment.
I held my tattered coat visible to those who
                          where dressed as if for war.
I was the first causality of the night,
                                   hands up in surrender

But as bleed on the floor I thought
                                                           "Why me"
Poetic T Jun 23
Immersing within cardinal
    droplets, each seeping from
the veins of life, clarity of white
now drowning within a sea of
fuchsia that is like a rose petal
liquefied, its essence smelling
                                like deaths kiss.

Abstracted songs of weeping
                                  moments.
Restless that more isn't being
given. Even though to open
more fissures would smother
every light within.
           Fading with the
                      last droplet given.

Tears etched like ravines
    flowing to feed the lustful tides
                                  of her needing.
She touched upon there features
vowing that they would
                                            live on
within her, a voice within the many.

Still all were crying, but never tears
of fearful wows, as they knew they'd
                                  live on within her.

Shadows danced around the room
effigies of what had drained before
those now opening life,
                              to feed her hunger.
Death was a perfume that she bathed in.
             Putrid desolate veins rejuvenated
her carcass to a beauty only time held.
But only her voice called inside,
       the others screamed in silence.
their shadows trying to tell others
but silence dances where
                                     no reflection hears.
Fuck me up and make me bleed
The blood that
d
r
i
p
s
Is your
poetry
To write true
Poetry.
You must bleed,
but to bleed
leaves you empty.
It is a risk.
For if you
truly bleed,
you will die.
but your fame
will live on.
Why? you ask
because only the miserable
are remembered.
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