Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Fallen Angel Apr 14
I wish I could just play,
the emotions I feel
that are on display
I've always been this way.

Bumping,
peeling
orange peel
I sat until I apologized,
3 times in kindergarten.
Her head was throbbing,
but I didn't meant it
but still, I could see the pain,
just before it rained,
I apologized the third time.

And yet, I didn't learn the lesson,
when I had a heavy drinking session,
I said the worse to a 12 year old girl,
when she attacked and mocked my world.

You should never verbally abuse
a 12 year old kid, no excuse.
I felt so sick the next day,
but my  poison still remained

I'm now free of the abuse,
trying hard to resist,
the drugs that I am on
Gives me poetry to persist,
but I still stand accused
Can't feel any bliss
Not worthy of God's son.
Though no more alcoholism,
I will wind up walking dead,
or hurting those, I love everyone.
White Owl Apr 6
I won't fear men whose hands cause pain
Or those that hunt the young like wolves,
For beneath the wings of my Lord is my shelter,
And He serves His justice a hundredfold.
I won't fear men whose abandon the weak
Or those that tear this body apart,
For my Savior promised He'd always be with me,
And someday, life in my new form will start.
Mar '22

One day years ago, I had a panic attack relating to some things I had endured years prior, and that I feared might someday happen again. After praying for peace, I opened a google doc, and these are the words that came to me.
White Owl Apr 8
Oh God, how long until my woes
Transfigure into peace?
Until the violent storms inside my skull
Will finally cease?
Until the gaping emptiness
I feel beneath my ribs
Is filled with warmth and joyousness?
That's all I plead You give!

Around me I see people full
With water, meat and wine.
I see them eat together --
Oh, how carefree they all dine!
When hunger hasn't gripped my gut,
I've gorged on rotten meat.
And when my throat has not been dry,
Vinegar's been my treat.

Please give me, Lord, a future hope
That isn't a mirage.
I look for peace, but pain attacks
In relentless barrage.
My spirit grumbles -- do take ear
And help my soul to thrive.
Mend this broke heart and give me strength
To want to be alive.
Jul '24
White Owl Apr 10
The ones with needle teeth that clamp themselves onto your brain,
Accusing with shrill voices 'till you've all but gone insane --
Succumb not to despair as you stare them right in the face.
Their threats are void of meaning to the one covered by grace.

The ones that have enslaved you to a thirst for toxic wells,
Guiding you as by leash, hunger consuming all your cells --
In desperation they wage war because their time is brief,
For they know that the Son of Man is coming like a thief.

The ones that feed and fester in the hearts of evil men,
Devouring the innocent and brooding in their den --
Their woeful fates in Heaven's scrolls have already been sealed,
For all the cruel shall soon be judged, and all the wounded healed.

The ones to which the Earth seems small clutched in their ****** hands,
Oppressing, stealing, killing, forming wicked schemes and plans --
Take heart, and rest your soul within the Shepherd's wings' caress!
Some day, even their knees will bow, and their tongues too confess.

Attempt they will to crush you, and to ***** our your faith's flame,
But see how legions of them cower when they hear His name!
Like roaches from the light they flee, His roar ceases their din.
The darkness trembles before Him, for in the end, we win.
Aug '24
rhenee rose Apr 1
Myths used to portray how
Eve possessed the original sin
Along with her overripe
Pain, passed down to all of kin
Confess, tell me now
Is this the reason why
Women get born with shame
Stamped on our skin, shame
Buried within, shame
Dragged for decades
Like that tree in Eden
This shame shall never die
Banished, barely forgiven
As soon as you leave
Your mother’s ribs
You are subjected to laws
Of your father’s rage
The world where men
Decides on who I am
Should have been
Left as a myth
A poem about Eve’s original sin.
Gideon Mar 8
We are bugs under his shoes.
Not a loved child, in terrible two’s.
Disobedient children couldn’t be so far.
We are grains of sand, and he is a star.
Trample our cities under his feet.
We believe he loves us, an epic conceit.
So full of ourselves, we hope he will serve us.
We pray for glory, success, and surplus.
Next page