Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You liked the shape of my heart
So you took it for yourself
And left me the shell
Just keep it. I'll grow another one
Asuka 4d
They don’t just describe emotions—
They dissect them.
Make you wonder
Why you feel,
And how much.

Some let their pens speak,
Others carry verses within—
Written on the walls of their minds,
Etched into the pulse of their hearts.

Poets are powerful.
They paint sorrow with beauty,
And make joy even more delightful.
They show us the world
Through an entirely different lens.

They can dress poverty in poetry,
And make wealth seem vainly stunning.
They stir our emotions,
Make us love deeply—
And hate just as fiercely.

We’re all born with a poet inside us.
Most just forget to listen.
To feel deeply is to write, even when no ink is spilled
Paranoid,
Panicked,
Concerned.
Can I do without it?
Can I live a life without anxiety?
I hope so,
I pray for peace,
I pray,
Is that a root of concern in me?
Keeping a level head is tough
Resentment hits in the middle of a good day
demanding you let it creep in
like the grimy spiders
spinning their web of lies
& those slithery snakes
with their venomous bites
the ones that killed you
& made you die
about a hundred times

Resentment is by far
the hardest lesson of all
Rising above it
setting it to the side
& out of your mind
so you can continue
holding your breath
moving on with a smile
a little dark, but true. feel your feels, but don't stay there for too long.
We weren’t there for each other—
Not in the ways we should’ve been.
Not in the moments meant to mend.
Instead, we searched for reasons
To blame.

We’re not machines—
Not made to fit every version of love.
We can't be customized for every flaw.
Love is acceptance.
And acceptance?
That’s what makes love strong.

But the problem—
A simple piece of cake—
Tasted bitter,
And ruined everything.

Is it really that easy?
To break,
To move on?

Why do people label love
Only to shame it later?
Fairytales before,
Tarnished truths after.

Listen—
We broke each other
With words like nails.
We hurt equally.
So why shape me
Into the villain?

Didn’t you know who I was
Before you said you loved me?
Didn’t you see how fragile I could be?

Now, I’m nothing.
My God has taken everything from me.
And maybe…
Maybe I am unlucky.

But still—
I’ll pray for you.
That you get everything
You ever need.
Julie 6d
To allow yourself to feel
is the strongest thing
a human can do.

When we feel,
we are raw.
They say vulnerability
makes us weak—

But the truth is:
being vulnerable
makes you even stronger.

Because you have nothing to hide,
nothing to run from.
Your body cooperates
with your mind.

In Sanskrit, they call it — sahaja —
that which is born with you.
Feelings are not a weakness,
they are our guide.

To feel is to be.
let yourself feel
miy 6d
living their first time too.
expecting they know everything.  
sweet and sour at the same time.
painful, not living up to their dreams.
i’ll try my best, for both of you, for everything you did and everything you couldn’t do.
feelings i had and have towards my parents lately, it’s their first time living too
A mirror cracks loud.
Spiderweb veins split the face,
someone looks away.

Glass falls, catching light.
Tiny suns blink on the floor,
feet step through the stars.

A star drowns in dark.
A shard twitches without wind,
breath locks in the throat.

Teeth bare in the glass.
A crimson smile grins too wide,
the floor drinks its spill.

The spill turns to ink.
Letters bloom where none were writ,
shadows lean closer.

Ink drips from the walls.
Words slither where mouths should be,
a mirror cracks loud.

Emotion Shifts, Then Shifts Again...

P.S. Rest assured, reading this near a mirror is entirely safe..hehe
Maria Etre Apr 2
XS
When I fear my heart
has become too small
for the love
it carries
failing
to
express
the muchness
of
it
all
Lalit Kumar Apr 1
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

With a laptop bag on my shoulder,
Far from home, in a strange city, at a station,
When I see a child crying in his mother’s lap,
I smile and remember my own home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When sleep gets lost in the dark pits under your eyes,
That’s when life makes sense.
When you face words like rent, ration, electricity, and water,
When a fearless heart begins to feel a little scared,
When the burden of home responsibilities starts weighing on your shoulders,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the one who once cried to get a toy,
Now smiles but takes the wounds,
When someone with a heart of stone is broken like a flower,
When someone more precious than life leaves you alone on the road,
That’s when life makes sense.

When making friends seems more difficult than staying alone,
When a dried rose kept in a diary feels more important,
When someone you see in the mirror feels like a stranger,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you want to cry but can’t,
When you grow so big that in the middle of family fights,
You stand firm and when someone asks, “Is everything okay?”
And you say, “Everything’s fine,”
That’s when life makes sense.

When the lie spoken by your lips
Is revealed as truth by someone’s eyes,
When the dreams of someone get devoured by the crowd around them,
When the silence in the room shouts loudly in your ears,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you realize that nothing is like the destination,
When you understand that there’s no destination like the one imagined,
There’s only the road, far and wide,
When the day doesn’t begin even after the sun rises,
When nothing works the way you want it to,
When a grand house has no one to call home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the moon doesn't show the marks of aging,
When the moon doesn’t show the imperfections and stains,
When the tunes of songs fade into the words of the songs,
When the tears saved all day fall onto the pillow,
That’s when life makes sense.

When coming home on time in the evening seems right,
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

That’s when life makes sense.
That’s when life makes sense.
Love, **** it, still doesn’t make sense.
Next page