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Alexa Apr 2019
Someone
out there
doesn't have a mom.

You say "Everyone has a mom".
Well, get this.

Someone's mother
was born in the 70's,
with bipolar disorder.
Quite the disaster.
This was before
people knew how to address
things like that,
so instead it was
hidden away.

Someone's mother
turned to drugs
to make herself feel okay
but it didn't really turn out that way.
By the time she was 22
she had two daughters,
but no source of stability.

Someone's mother
overdosed one (two? three?)too many times
and got arrested for
possession of illegal drugs.

Someone's mother
had to sing
"You Are My Sunshine"
with her hand up to glass,
instead of with her hand
in her daughter's.

Someone
forgot to give their mother
one last hug
goodbye.

Someone's mother's
last OD
resulted in laying
on a couch for
three days.
Alone.
Someone's mother
went into
a coma.

Someone
was told
to say goodbye
to her mother,
and said
"She can't hear me.
Why should I say goodbye
if she can't hear me?"

Someone
was without a mother
at 11 years old.

Someone
had a sister that stole
*** from her mother.

Someone
grew up
not really knowing
what was going on.

Someone
out there
doesn't have a mom.
This poem is my science teacher's story. "Someone" is my science teacher. I wrote this poem to help gain the perspective that I have. That not every child grows up in the loving home that they deserve to grow up in. But you kind of need to hear the story in person, surrounded by a class of crying people to feel it.
Mya Apr 2019
In the mists of all the thunder and lighting
I made a decision
to strengthen my bond with my dad
before its too late
I do not want to die not knowing that my parents
truly love me
because for some time
I felt like no one loved me
people may like me but never love
and the fact that I was never able to accept any love
left me emotionally in a coma
I did not know how to react to things that most people would
and I still dont
I am willing to learn how to
but I am still afraid
I know that writing this probably means nothing to other people
but to me, it is going to be like a written contract to myself
to make new moments happen
PYG's Whisper Apr 2019
I’ve been needing your lies
I’ve been craving your poison
I’ve been missing your demons
I’ve been loving your hater
While I was playing with death
While it was ******* me upside down
While I was freezing face to hell
I’ve been moaning your name
When my hands were trembling
When my soul was jumping
When my veins were twisting
I howled your April’s farewell
Once Azrael was invited
And the sky was open
Then my mind got naked
Your shadow was my only Savior
My voice was resonating
But from your ears was forbidden
My snow capped depth was on the summit of its alp
Pleading you to be its shield
That’s when you threw it into a dark swamp
Claiming that you were lost in a blinded place
Everything was mute and your bones were broke
But I saw you secretly radiating in a crystal ball
You thought I’m nowhere nearer
Was it amusing to fool a downcast lifer?
You were pushing my destiny to its sharp ending chapter
Below the belts freedom was dedicated to a shrewd sinner
Meanwhile I’ve been taken to where nothing left to catch
Failures over the time of my rotten life have built my forgotten grave
Gloomy butterflies surrounded my sick grove
No flowers to bloom no hope to ****
No words to draw no feelings to touch
No time to rush no remorse to scratch
The door of paradise was barely visible
But the clouds drove me to a fiery jungle
I begged life to be my sucker
One last elegiac parting with winter
But death was an invincible fighter
Loneliness was feeding my blur future
Chiselling out my anxiety within four blank walls
Then stirred up a wild storm of toxic fears
Moving on was the synonym of stuck in a rut
A sterile heart gave up on its darned patience
Charcoaled love erased its existence
Dry tears chained to these anorexic cheeks
You shutdown the light you once heated up
Now I’m sober yet drunk on my coma
Trying to perforate your karma
While cleaning up my ugly Fantasia.
Where I was your moon and you were my star
As a poet, I believe that my voice needs to be heard and my experiences need to be written, I used to write about the **** THEY went through, I used to care about THEM, I used to put THEM first and me last, I used to spend endless sleepless nights trying to comfort THEM, write for THEM, slam for THEM. but I never listened to myself, I never dared to say no to THEM in order to protect ME, that's why and how I ended up stuck in a wild war between LIFE AND DEATH. Where only ME left behind while THEY all escaped and enjoyed their victory 'cause simply they ****** all my energy and I wasn't a needy anymore. So I got lost and anxiety took advantage of me.
Many fans betrayed me, and made up stories about me just ‘because I wasn’t available to hear THEIR stories, to wipe THEIR tears and to be THEIR voice of hope, too many FAKE FRIENDS AND LOVERS finally got caught up and THEY shamelessly exposed their true nature and loneliness kept me company.
This poem is all about ME, is all about my battle with my illness last year, it was a result of many years of ups and down, many years of sadness, mental breakdown and depression, nothing is clear nothing is the same anymore and I don't know where am I going from here, the only reality that I can't cover up or deny is the fact that I’m still alive… miraculously..
I don't have anything else to say, I’ll let my poem talk about my biggest disappointments...
Thanks for everyone who still loves and supports PYG's Whisper, I came back 'cause of your prayers and yearnings, thanks for everything.
I can’t promise that I’ll come back the same, a part of me is already dead but I’ll let my pen mess with all the criminals who killed my vibe.
-PYG's Whisper
Arden Mar 2019
I know how many stories is tall enough
I know how much Windex I have to drink
I know long I have to be alone in order to hang myself
I know where to cut
I know how many pills I have to swallow

So you ask how come I keep trying and keep failing
Listen you have no idea how ****** windex tastes
Listen I can't get to the roof of the buildings
Listen All the pills are in a safe
I do everything wrong
I can't even die correctly

But I don’t want to **** myself anyway  
My uncle shot himself
And I watched my grandmother lose a son
I watched my dad lose his best friend
I have seen what it does to people and
I have felt that feeling

I don’t want to **** myself
I just want to be in a coma
neth jones Mar 2019
Such a privilege to walk amongst this destruction
to tread lightly through these fires
and see the light that comes between
the struggles of the itching dying
to bathe with this
and rub my naked self against the charred trees
and sample the taste of fatty ashes in warmed air

All cries reach a pitch
that hot soaks the inner ear
Smiles all around
Gapping land spills over
and over and over

I'll bury myself here
in the burning earth
equipped with a hollow reed
to reach the wonders above
and sleep.
Written approx 15yrs ago
Asominate Jan 2018
Valentines Day is stupid;
Picking on me
Curse that Cupid!
No one loved me
Since you was killed,
Hate this day until...

This day has end,
Curse is over
Got no friends;
A cursed clover.
Coma won't let me awaken,
Hate myself till that day when...

I see your smile:
Shining, glowing.
You'll still love me,
That I'm hoping.
You won't come back,
That I'm knowing...

Your memory keeps the tears flowing,
Forgive me accidental sinning:
Didn't mean to **** you again.
My wife, my lover, my best friend.

Valentine's Day's forever
Forgive my?
What?! No! Never!
to be continued?
A story about a man who accidentally killed his wife, and went into a coma from heart-brokenness. His teenage son tries to do whatever he could to bring his father back, even go against reality itself...
These persons exist, but I'm pretty sure the reality part isn't true, or is it?
nat Jan 2019
blood in my hair
can't really remember
what yr face looks like
makes me sad
but i can't really feel it, y'know?
i love yr sick veins
i hear yr heartbeat in my brain
wish i could feel it
i wish i could feel something at all
i don't know why people like this one so much
Micah G Nov 2018
The night sky is bright
So alive and so busy
Unlike her dark eyes
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