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Flo Jul 2016
A young man
Uncertain of his talents
Seeking glory in former poems
Scared of failing his own expectations

The hardest critics, given by himself
Afraid of lacking quality in midst spotlight
He can't meet up to his former pieces
New poems remain unpublished

Uncertainty
Detaining him from creation
Letters remain unaligned clusters
Wasted potential all along

If only he was more confident
To search that spotlight once again
Maybe he could be an impact at last
Influencing other poets
Racquel Tio Jul 2016
they say however long the relationship was is how long it'll take you to get over it
so even if I break up with my self hatred today
I'll be 35
before I'm okay
gray rain May 2016
Albums, collections of songs,
A collection of words
brought together
to right, wrongs
or just to hurt
they're there forever.

Somewhere.

Old recordings
on vinyl
or hand written on papers.
New recordings
still on vinyl
but more objected to haters.

To be

easily accessed
and heard by everyone
fans or not,
torn to shreds
when criticised, a song
is unappreciated for what

amount of effort

the artist went through
to create something new
and original
just for you,
for your ears. To view,
to be a signal.

That originality

isn't dead
or dying
or even injured
but instead
living
to be heard

by millions around the world.
n o b o d y May 2016
Afraid to share the things I make.

I throw them away.
Belle Sadique May 2016
I don't care.
Your repetition is annoying
beyond compare.
How many times do I have to say it
until you get the memo?
Nothing you say
is an instant throe.

You wont get a reaction,
You wont get a change.
The result will stay.
Your diatribe about me
Wont change a thing.

Sure, entertaining on your part,
Irritating on mine.
Life is full of critics;
Judging and correcting our taste.
It's only a dead thought,
but who said I ever cared?
Poetry project for English class.
Madeline Rook May 2016
Don’t read the comments my dear
They will tear your beautiful opinions down
Out of fear
Fear that you are smarter than them
That your liberal position conflicts their conservative view
The dominant view is changing
And they’re going to take it out on you
Don’t read the comments my dear
They will tear you down
Say you are wrong
That your opinions don’t belong
And if you read them long enough you’ll believe the comments
Don’t read the comments my dear
They do not deserve to tear down all your hard work
For a petty fight
Fought because they are losing their own
Against themselves
Stand for something
Don’t read what the comments say
Don’t fall for them because you are entitled to what you believe
Your opinions belong and they matter
Debate what you believe to be right
Don’t read the comments my dear
But don’t fear being wrong
Because as perfect as we think we are
We are not
We are all flawed and sometimes we are wrong
But don’t let the comments discourage you
Admit you are wrong and move on
Learn and live
Stand for something and don’t fall for anything
Don’t read the comments my dear
But don’t fear being wrong
RisingUp Apr 2016
She finishes writing the test
Thankful her anxious brain can rest

But the test isn't actually done,
As students discuss the answers to number one.

They compare solutions,
go over the questions they found tough,
The girl wishes she could plug her ears,
But the students haven't had enough.

As they talk they realize they got some wrong,
But take it lightly in stride,
They do not know that if the girl joined in,
it'd crush her soul and pride.

Because it starts the criticism rolling,
Bashes her left and right,
"How could you get such an easy question wrong?
You're anything but bright"

"Try harder next time,
come on, I'm sure you can do better.
You need to do well, idiot,
A is the golden letter"

Others wonder why she doesn't join in
On the post-test debates,
If only they knew the anxiety and sadness it brought her,
Her mind, how it self-berates.

The girl is working to quiet the noise,
To silence the negative notions,
But until then don't discuss too much in her presence,
Step by step, she's setting positivity in motion.
RisingUp Apr 2016
These moments always bring her dread
For they arouse the negativity in her head.

To most kids, they sit and anxiously wait,
While she awaits her most feared fate

Papers passed about by the teacher.
Students scramble to get their grade.
She sits there, wishing the moment would pass.
Wishing she could simply fade.

The verdict's in, the marks are out,
Kids discuss and compare.
They ask her what she got,
She wishes she were anywhere but there.

She sneaks a peak at the paper,
Immediate thoughts cloud her brain
Students desperately want to know,
She braces for the impending pain.

"I beat her, I beat her!"
A few students cry
Others beam at their amazing feat.
As the girl feels her insides die.

"You're an idiot, how could you get those wrong?"
The mockery arises in her head.
She hates herself more than you'll ever know,
A few of her tears are painfully shed.

Her faults are pointed out by others,
As they celebrate their victory,
And her internal demons hiss at her,
From criticism, she is never free.

These instances may seem short-lived,
The pain will surely pass,
But these cracks in her self confidence
Caused it to shatter into broken glass.
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