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Estelline Jun 15
Why talk to me
And say I’m cool
Just to leave me be
Thinking I was just a fool
To think you’d care
Just like before I must of
Slipped up somewhere

I’m not perfect
But I try more than others know
And it’s not easy
To be so insignificant
(you could have said hi)
It creates a burning feeling inside
I wish I could cut it out
Even if it’d mean I’d die

What should I do?
I’ll just remain here
Suffering
Maybe one day it’ll end
Or be too much for me
And I’ll end it myself.
Aahi May 5
Is it the era of feeling down in a continuous way?
Wilkes Arnold Mar 19
Depression is an overused word
It might make an easy rhyme
For poets who labor under the impression
That they can climb to the heights of expression
By showing no discretion with each and every
Narcissistic emotional self-obsession confession.

But of all the poetic depression transgressions
From the front of the procession
To the straggling indiscretion
The worst and least touched on
Is that it's boring...

Depression and talk of it
Leads to the inevitable compression
Of each and every tidbit
Or texture that prevents a poem from becoming a lecture

It flattens the curve
It scans the sculpture
A man of depth dwindles to a nerve

But depression doesn't let them see how it narrows their view
The circle it drew around appropriate questions
Ignore the censor and suppression
Be vigilant of the slightest dispossession
Starting to understand this oppression?

Don't let it convince you that you can see more clearly
From the bottom of a pit
You have no idea what you're missing
This became more of a psa than I intended. Written with the utmost compassion.
Avoid boring people - james watson
sara Feb 18
yellow outside
grey from the back of the eye
a tired head holds
a dauntless mind
catching words
I won’t recognize.

This memory fell and
will never climb up;
restless legs on
resting souls.

Back pain hardly
sets fire to the day
of yellow outside
and inside of grey.
Evie G Feb 25
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of our English classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is
the decapitation of innocent
grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher
the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem


Now you were never one for boredom;
you enjoyed sitting on the grass, getting a soggy ***,
you enjoyed the crunch of crackers snapping on your tongue,
you really enjoyed
and I still do not know why
making up haikus
you enjoyed the long languorous spaces between lines...





and I guess that really was just you.
But recently the silence has been getting short its rudely interrupted
by forced laughs and nervous glances from eyes that recently went shopping


You jump at every crunch or crack, scared of well…
I don’t know .

And your poetry,
Well, you barely write anymore because you just can’t seem to muster up the energy and you’re just tired and its nothing to worry about and it doesn’t matter anyway because you have an English essay due tomorrow yeah-


And the grass misses your ***


And I miss you


And there’s someone in your place, a lethargic parody, too frightened to pick up the phone, frightened by nothing at all
There’s a black hole in the shape of a friend
hidden behind the comets of comedy and asteroids of avoidance there’s a small hole


I reach in… grasping for a hand,
I catch glimpses. tufts of hair. old coffee smiles
but… nothing
so, I try again

I reach in, grasping for a hand, or even a bone
I catch glimpses of skin, hair, teeth, bone. Nothing
and each time I throw myself into the silent abyss,
batter past the comets and asteroids and reach into that dark expanse I find less and less,
I miss you


I am right outside,
whenever you’re ready to,
we can talk a bit


I’m trying my best ,
and I really care for you ,
but haikus are dumb
accept it, it’s true.


The spot of grass is waiting right where you left off,
the crackers in the tin are there just waiting to be scoffed.
if ever in that silence
you feel yourself alone
just know that in my house,
you’ve found yourself a home.
Hey there! so i actually just won my schools poetry competition with THE HARRY BAKER judging so i can now die happy my life is complete oh my god. This is essentially an extended version of a poem i wrote back in November i think, it really takes on a new meaning and (i might be bias here) i think is worth the read ? Anyway, any feedback would be lovely, thanks
Also, willing to debate the validity of haikus because i think they are terrible
BSween Feb 22
How dull
to be bland in disposition;
Rice pudding and careful cast.
To rarely utter opposition;
Never seeming rude or crass.
Daily wake at half past life,
Run away the tension,
Drink away the strife.
Learn the lines, keep within their border;
Domesticity, Jones, Smiths and order
Played out on a stage of lies.
When did your part smile without the eyes?
Look sideways in the stalls before you clap.
But just once try and go without a map.
Sinking, feeling antsy
Pink fingernails dancing
Sinking feeling, antsy
about my psychiatrist
Vespa Woman Dec 2020
sleeping sad and looking back at those 1 pictures of you and i, wondering where you learned to smile like that. I remember takeing that picture, you touched my hand and my blood ******* fluttered. you let it go and my skin broke like glass.

what the hell had happened to us? I miss you like a bottle misses wine.

finding and figuring just what I meant I really wish I could make myself understand why.

and that there are people you just can't trust who say they wont lie, that everyone suffers from a broken heart from here to their, and not even rain can forget all those times when you made me laugh and you took my hand the notes the feeling ill never feel that again. I miss you

you're not coming back, and I know that I should just let you go and leave on break, break up break my heart like a vinyl record when you first touch it, everyone gets yelled at when they first touch a vinyl

that's something you said, words of yours tend to do loops in my head, but you never did yell.

whats that really good or bad because i cant really tell you never seemed to cry.
Heres a stuipd ******* break up poem thats just like all the others, i hope everyone on this site has a nice day and remembers that being cliche is ok
Naveen Malhotra Dec 2020
Here is the love equation:
x²+(y-°√x² )²=1
Where °√ is cubic root
Do you love it you dude?
Solve it and draw a graph
You would get a ❤️
Many would forget to love
Solving the love equation above
Mathematical expressions are boring
Mathematicians only find them adorable
For lovers ❤️ is the expression
Love equation brings depression!
Evie G Nov 2020
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of your childhood maths classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is the decapitation of innocent grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher, the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem
Guess how i was feeling when i wrote this. Also i read this to my friends and had to explain the concept of haikus, i thought they were common knowledge. Please tell me im not alone i knowing how Haikus work. Thanks
This was inspired by Carol Ann Duffy's Hard To Say, which is far more eloquent than this ;0
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