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Em MacKenzie Oct 4
When I was fourteen
my sister was teaching me how to drive,
I went to make a left turn and hit the breaks; second guessing myself.
“Never hesitate,” she said,
“it’s when you hesitate that causes a crash.”
“Make a decision and go with it.”
All these years later it still rings true.
All these years later I still have yet to listen.
Jiya Aug 24
This illness in my mind is terminal.
There is nothing that can cure it.
It speaks oh so nonsensical.
It’s to be honest, quite hysterical.

I shot myself in the end
Whilst lamenting in my bathtub.
The hysteria was just too much
For my shattered heart to handle.

The judge declared her​​ the winner.
I whimpered in defeat.
I didn’t even place.
Maybe I’m just not that unique

Or damaged enough for poetry.

The metallic taste of blood
As I drown in senseless grief​
Tells me I’m not good enough.
To get back on my feet.

Her flared trousers tell me.
She has a great sense of style!
My black eyeliner.
It tells others I’m a coward.
A lamb ready for slaughter.
No Baphomet or Muhammad

Just a lost girl.

Locked in a vault of failure.
Being served defeat.
Getting grimaces from the waiter.

It’s th-the illness.
It’s forming cracks in my bonce.
It’s preventing me from winning.
From ever being at the top.

Y’know what?
She may always win.
With her pale moon skin.
Her suction cup stomach.
Her body so thin.

But me?

Just another **** failure, aren't I?
Laying dead in a bathtub.
poem I wrote (with a couple edits) for a 24hr poetry contest. I was feeling a tad salty about this one chick.

Three thousand two hundred and forty tiles,
Three hundred and twelve hours, thirteen days,
Ten thousand steps walked, five miles,
Eight by eight, padded room, orderlies patrol hallways,

Thoughts patterned over, over and over,
Wits dull, under pharmaceutical pills,
Feigning defined sanity in isolated den,
Seeing different then ‘aids’ with weak wills,

Not fitting the social norm,
Emotions and thoughts invalid,
Indoctrinating those who won’t conform,
Not codependent on a screen or new salad,

Sitting cross legged, muscles sore,
Straight coat hugging me,
Arms, torso, numb, like the day before,
Staring up, the barred light is all I see,

Rocking to engage my core,
Listening to helps, words, drone,
Dying to see water upon a shore,
Here for safety yet never so alone,

Sloppy with medicinal chemicals,
Padded walls permanently stained,
Where people tried to bash their skulls,
From boredom and too much sleep attained,

Isolated torture is a maddening pain,
Socially rejected now a product of an insecure hell,
Painting their lines, difficult to abstain,
Each day, reliving how I fell,

Walking the halls, ‘I’, can’t come out,
Coming out in the room I’m trapped in,
In silence, fore it’s insane to vent by scream or shout,
Judged and charged for every mental sin,

Imprisoned, I never feel rested,
Exhausted trying to keep my mind sharp,
History forgiven, but I’m not accepted,
Seconds, hour, as I mentally cry and carp,

Days on end getting bested,
Drugged, my traumas they pierce and poke,
Building walls, while my minds molested,
Individuality embers into smoke,

Cutting brain apart, they mold,
Feeling self losing grip,
Struggling to keep my hold,
All I got not to slip,

I just want to be free,
My clarity and learned self is hazy,
Gods, some force help me!
I, think, I think I’m going crazy...
Have I reached too high?
Slipped and fallen?
Tumbled into something,
Lost and forgotten?
I've acheived freedom,
What else is there to say?
There's no feeling in my heart,
What have I given up?
I said I would do anything to fly,
but now,
I mourn my past life
I cry for what I've given up
Everything that I've lost,
and the solitude I've found
I've hit the end of the poetry high
dived from the poetry peak
to my own demise..
Sneha Thakur Aug 13
At the end of the day , it's just you curled within you , within you ,
with your thoughts floating ,
even with all this gravity.

You are a woman ,
With muscles that
stretch and curl ,
With skin ,
Which glows.
Kora Sani Aug 7
i found the white flag you gave me
hidden in the trash
that's where i put it
just a few years ago

it was still packaged nicely
folded at every crease
it's such an eloquent way
to admit defeat

it's color was bright
and plain as can be
filled with nothingness
just like you thought of we

holding it in my hands,
you tell me to surrender
but that i can't do
for i'd be a pretender
Niki Gray Aug 3
To teach me about loss,
no matter the cost.

To see if my heart beats,
through sadness and defeat.

To make me appreciate more,
not live to settle a score.

To make my faith stronger,
and question God's why no longer.
Thank you for taking the time to read my poems.  As always thank you to everyone who supports and encourages me to be the best me I can be.
Dev Nov 2018
They think I'm a *****-up
I tell myself "well that's fine"
"I'll just prove them wrong"
But with each attempt I make
It only proves them right
People are like Pokemon
and I'm the trainer.
This time it's my story
being played by 7.8 billion people

I appear to have broken
a max repel in my backpack
and everyone keeps
leaving, fleeing or disappearing

I guess I'll catch the few
that stick around anyways
*This poem has been claimed by Nintendo for copyright*
*We're sorry for any inconvenience"
"Some warriors taste defeat
before their journey
and are wiser because of it."

Esther L. Krenzin
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