Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Merope Angel Jan 5
He listened to me
Like he’d heard it all
I didn’t speak clear
Didn’t stand tall

By end of the conversation
I’m on the verge of tears
And with one gesture
He reminds me

How I don’t see clear.

Find meThe Reason, my love.
I am simplyHere for you.

You tell me
Not to give up,
But then your solemn face
Reminds me why I started slipping up.

My love, find meThe Reason
Not to stare into the Sun
Not to Run into the free way
Not to Chase a Car for fun

And I promise you,
I’ll make it through another day.

“...But I no longer can laugh.”
“No baby, you will find a way.”
Seanathon Oct 2019
Where painted rivers pick apart
The rocks and earthy soil

Carve bolden paths into meadow lands
With a crashing winding coil

Puddles form
And land deforms
Opportunities rise
And tidings fall

As beneath the growing chaos storm
My mind unwound
How I cannot help but be feel now
When the rain clouds burst on the Texas soil
True story - And the storm held off, thank God
Bhill Sep 2019
Suddenly the ridge top was glowing
The lightning glittered the sky with sudden bursts
Sudden bursts that let you sneak a peek as to what was coming
What was coming appeared to be a mountain top assault
Assaulting us visually with dancing lights and rolling outcries
Outcries of thunderous clatters far in the distance
How far away was this commotion
Count it down
One one thousand, two one thousand

Brian Hill - # 231
Do you count it down..
Shining light was burning in burst
Shattered into dark colors
Made those stars such a liar
Shooting light through the darkness
Looking for forgiveness
Too reaching fantasy in fearless
It gave me nerves
To think about someone that never loves
C Cavierre Jun 2019
When the lights
go down
and colors
the numbing
Thorns Apr 2019
I guess we're all different
I don't know if I'll make
Maybe we'll find salvation in the words we write

Or are they a curse
A never ending burst
Of emotion
Of pain
And sorrow

But let's not think of that today :]
"Don't worry because life goes on..."
-Panic! At the Disco 2004
Caitlin Jan 2019
To family, friends and strangers-
I’ve bottle everything up inside.
Suppressed my true thoughts and feelings.
Quashed any emotion.

I couldn’t speak the words,
but I sure as hell can write them.
Maybe this will heal me.
Instead of hiding, let me rip myself open for all to see.
Annie Jan 2019
The quakes run through my veins
The fire and the pain
Of tiny pieces of lead
Churning inside my head.
Based on the word "quake".
Jodie-Elaine Nov 2018
On the creaking wooden chair in the corner, hanging on the scaffold, in the circular mirror, distorted and twisted and folding. It stands in the shadows. It lurks in the school playground while parents wait for their children, it’s a runaway train, and it’s the ink streaming down the window pane, it’s the clock melting inwards.
its golden fluidity and baby blue subtleties.
It’s the reason why you wake in the middle of the night,
gasping into darkness and grappling with loose ends... it was just a dream.
The reason you turn a corner just to look back behind you, why you double-take in the mirror, question where did I go?
Looking at nothing, staring into the bleak dark, it lurks. Awaits.
It waits in the form of a child holding a red balloon, staring into our blind spots.
Like shadows, when the sun rotates away from behind the playground wall you know, just then, now, in that full circle...
it’s about to run out.
You bend over backwards to relate to the moonlight dancing on the floor of its own reflections. It shows itself on beer bottles from better nights, you cross one leg over the other, position yourself,
folded linen.
Rushing to endless deadlines for nowhere o’clock, last call for the runaway train, struggling with human concepts.
You’re simply a sum of parts: an addition of flesh, limbs, old and broken battered bones, blind spots.
All the places you can’t see, can’t feel, can’t reach.
Loose ends meet themselves in the corner of that same old dusty room,
the folded linen crumples to the floor,

the red balloon bursts.
Another April 2015 one
Anya Sep 2018
I write like a paintball machine
Spitting out ***** of paint
In flights of fancy

I write like I think
My thoughts
And emotions
Coming alive

I write like a roller coaster
My mood swings apparent
High to low
And sometimes
Just plain wired

I write like I sing
At moments belting it all out
Other times, softer
Taking the effort
To sing so others will like it

I write like a camera
Taking snapshots
Of everything surrounding me
Both outside
And inside

I write like I cry
The words coming out like an endless waterfall
In a short burst of emotion
Before it stops
And I am light as a feather

I could compare my writing to so much
It’d probably take longer than I have
To name them all
But with just this
I’m sure you can relate

Writing can be a lovely thing
Next page