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Alle Jan 2019
as a child, my parents’ comforting
words washed over me like
wave of the ocean, soothing
the wounds left by harsh,
immature names, and i marvelled
at the difference mere words
could make and how they
could change a life

as a teen, my parents’ grating
criticism and unthoughtful words
about the mistakes i make and
the grades i bring home
rub me the wrong way
like dry sand between my toes,
and i try to be the bigger person, i try
to walk away, but with every step
the blisters fester, and soon enough
the wound is too large
to be healed anymore
— how faith and trust in parents disappears
V Jan 2019
Everyone is full of opinions about
What I should do,
Where I should go,
Who I should be,
And who should I talk to;

When they can't even look inside their own bags to clean their dirt.
Frustration.
Old vent.
Andrew Rueter Jan 2019
Criticism is often not taken or given well
Something that helps me
Is focusing on what people are doing correctly
It makes my criticism more genuine
Instead of focusing on how far they’re falling behind
I try to focus on how much further they can go
So I’m genuinely disappointed when they fail
And try offering advice on how to succeed
Which I guess you could call criticism
But it feels a lot less like it
Andrew Montejo Dec 2018
The beautiful crimson rose
loved a worm
thinking that it will become
A handsome buterfly soon.

The worm sipped the
sweet juice of the rose- can't
resist it 'cause she's blinded
by love of the worm

Months later, the worm
spread his beautiful wings
while the rose withered,
her petals were rotten in the corner.
Talk

That’s all it ever is

Talk

Do you really trust the words

Talk

That are thrown like knives

Talk

Lies, insults, and blames

Talk

That hurt more than words should

Talk

But the truth comes and no one listens

Talk

When the complements are said, that are considered criticism

Talk

That’s all it is…
Rita Sailor Dec 2018
about ploughing my head through the wall instead of walking through the door food away to the right
perhaps you simply confusing your way with mine
but you don't care to listen
                                                                            only to talk
kell Dec 2018
My creativity is haltered,
i'm stuck on a continuous train
I could stop if my brain would kick in and find a exit or a object to throw in front of it
but its stuck moving,thoughts over thoughts thrown away down they go, down the drain.
I don't even think twice I know its not good enough for them I ask why, why isn't it good enough for them?
i'm running low on fuel, im drained and my creativity is on the floor stomped all over by people I don't know,
I scream for them to stop,
The train came to a halt
  I got off it was the final stop no more room for me I was empty and useless and no good for society.
but when I got off others did too. They pleaded that I bring back what I once had i cannot i stopped the train for some kind of acceptance I was on my knees for people who didn't know me
and yes I was begging for them to show affection
They are strangers, not friends not family but there criticism seemed more important to me. its what the people want
not me.
Were forever stuck on the train of
thought.
Bhawna Dec 2018
I always admire things
when they are gone
leaning on the past
with a fantasy song

sitting alone
doesn't mean i 'm lonely
coz, its my time
to revive my past strongly

i knew importance of them
but never knew
i was important too
coz, they never claimed

they moved out
they moved ahead
and i 'm still there
with my heart shred

i was crying once
but no one heard
i criticised myself
made myself blurred

then one voice
came out of ashes
it fired and burned
all doubts and dark forest places

i stood up, started moving
now there is no looking back
coz, i have a task
to fill my pride stack

though i criticised this moment
but it let cat out of the bag
now i need to
wash and wipe my 'MISS FRAGILE' tag

now my soul knows what to do
i gotta have my mind in my team
i promise
i will not be inclined
thanks to my dear life
All criticism
Comes from the illusion of bravery,
From the pedestal
On which the lowliest men sit highest.

All criticism
Is someone’s projected false confidence,
From the pedestal
Upon which those who can do no wrong fall.

All criticism
Is a descent to egomania,
From the pedestal
Above small specks of blinding delusion.

All criticism
Derived from eyes whose lenses are mirrors,
From the pedestal
Elevated by its isolation.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Yanamari Nov 2018
Bring it on
I will fight
Let your words loose upon my
Infant heart
Whip and whip again
Gaze at me with your
Estranged lens
Leave me to fend for myself
Let me hurt
Whether or not I shall rise again
I will be the victor
Of my end

My dreadful..
Dreadful
End...

Be gentle
Show me your hand

Be gentle...
Lighten your gaze and
Uncloud your lens
Let me love you
Before the end..

For estranged
With estranged
From estranged
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