Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aaditya 3d
She's never not happy.
Everything needed has she.
An extremely loving guy
with sharp features and
looks that'd make anyone jealous.

Practitioner of law, has a
permanent job, wears suits,
every woman wants him, but
she is the only girl he loves.

But she has another one
who also has her heart won.
Loves as much as the other,
a chubby bag of warmth
and a heart as big as he is.

A part time musician, an
enthusiast of sports.
Always by her side, and
he's at her beck and call.

Love her like anything, both
of them do. See her growth
is all that matters to them
and they leave no stone
unturned to make sure she
loves them back for what they are.

Yes she loves two men and she
won't choose one over the other,
'cause she loves them as much
as they love each other equally,
As one's her Dad, other's her Daddy.
Inspired by a popular American Sitcom.
Amelia Jan 16
You've spent so many hours,
So many days, wasting your time and tears
On a different kind of idiot.

You doubted yourself
And hated yourself
Because your father
Didn't cherish you.

It's time for the pain to stop.
It's time for you to realize
How amazing you are.
It's time for you to stop being a victim,
And start being a fighter.

Show him how wrong he is.
Showcase all of the fantastic things that you do.
Make him regret pushing you down.
Make him jealous of the people in your life.
Make him wish he would have stayed.

Let go of the broken little girl,
And make way for the strong queen
That you have become.

Dry the tears on your cheeks
And make room for the smiles
That will appear.

Give yourself the love
That he didn't give you.

Some may think it's arrogance,
Others, confidence...

But you will know that what you
Allow the world to see
Is strength.
This is the final part of a poem that I am extremely proud of. Parts 1 and 2 are on my profile, and I hope you enjoy them as well. Thank you for reading!
Amelia Dec 2018
You've cried on the bathroom floor,
Asking yourself why you weren't good enough.
You've changed everything about yourself,
Multiple times,
Just to make him love you.

But this wasn't for a boyfriend.
This pain was endured for the one man
Who was supposed to make sure
That you were never hurt.
All of this suffering was caused
Because the guy that was supposed to be
Your first love,
Didn't deliver.

The man who was supposed to make you
Feel perfect...
The man who was supposed to give you
All of his love...
The man who was supposed to tell you
That there is nothing wrong with you...

He failed.
I hope you enjoyed part two! To read the beginning of this poem, visit my profile, I am planning on posting some different stuff very soon. Thank you!
ómra Nov 2018


Amelia Nov 2018
This poem isn't one about boys.
This poem isn't a tribute to the girls
Who got their hearts broken by an idiot.
But I pray for them too.

This poem is not  plea for attention,
This poem is not a bargaining chip.

This is to the little girls who's
Fathers hurt them more
Than any boy ever could
This is an ode to the girls who cry over
An abandoned office.
This is for the warriors who fought through the pain.

You've wondered if it was your fault.
You've wondered if there was anything
You or anyone could've done.
The nights you've seen pass by
As you contemplate why he didn't stay
Are countless.

You've written poems about the
Emptiness you've felt
Because of his absence.
You've rehearsed in your mind what it would
Be like
If he came back.
You've thought about how it would be
If life were perfect.

This is the first part of this poem. It's fairly lengthy so I'm breaking it up into parts. I hope you enjoyed Part One!
Natasha Trullia Oct 2018
I can't see through your eyes
It's too hard and takes a lifetime anyway
But I read what you must have read
As a child coping and surviving
I can't image how hard it must have been,
Mother stuck with you and that is that
She always said she had her reasons
She tried to explain them to me
The immature never listen anyway.
I think I might understand now, it took me another decade.
What was the value I add, you always asked,
The anthem of the mind only you could hear,
But I heard it too, in song first,
But I heard it too
We live to grow, everyone, together,
In the world you lost your Father
And as to a scared little child of nine
A shadow never quite the friend,
I can feel that fright you must have suffered, sometimes,
I wonder why,
Perhaps you still ask the question for this reason
That you might forget and everything is lost
Your life taken from your hands,
Then come those hungry who cry out for more
Just as she wrote, the anthem of her cold heart
This is a poem that I wrote about my Father and our strained relationship. I think I've tired very hard to try to understand him and to forgive. I think I've made my peace after I started reading a lot of books he read as a teenager. I think our parents need the forgiveness, and I hated hearing that, but it's true, we're all just as broken and we become human when we fix things, even if only we're secretly hoping someone else might help fix us when we're at our most desperate.
Kanara Oct 2018
At Night
I dream of My Mother’s Embrace
Oh, that woman
Skin and soul like earth:
So soft it nearly crumbles
At the slightest touch
Crooked smile like
God’s star,
Pervading me with light
Every time the corners of her lips curve upwards towards heaven

At Night
I touch myself to thinning, silvered, hair
Bushy mustaches
Old jokes withering away
Like the crunchy leaves from the frail
Trees of Autumn,
To slow dances
Under the moonlight,
Flashing my toothless smile
As you hold my small, brown hand in yours,
As I grasp onto your large waist,
There, in that pale, faint moonlight  you look down upon me
As if I am the most precious thing on earth
As if your slimy heart lies on my palms
This I dream
Of you cherishing me as if I am yours
Cherishing me Because I am yours
As my eyelids start to open
And dawn sheds himself on my tear-stricken face
Reality sinks in its claws
You’re not here, father
I will never feel  your embrace
Katherine Oct 2018
when she’s little she loves him the most

she loves him best

but then he can’t hide the *****(s)

and slowly she loves him less

the disappointment seeps in like thick black tar

it hardens around her heart

so not even all the broken glass can smart

she’s grown up but she’s so scared to love

because she spent it all fifteen years before

on someone who always left her striving for more

it’ll never be enough
ómra Oct 2018
they say that your father
is your first love-- that
those broad shoulders and
strong arms are the bastion
within which every daughter may
feel safe.

i could say that my father
was my first love-- that
those broad shoulders and
strong arms that hit and punched,
that took and just kept taking
felt safe.

the truth is this:
i loved my father
even though he would throw my
mother to the ground like she was
one of the dolls that he would buy me
in apology every time.

the truth is this:
i loved my father
even though he once hit her
so hard that she had to get
****** reconstruction surgery--
even though he took his gun

and tried to **** us for having
the audacity for trying to leave
the cage that he built around us.
but we are as clever mice:
waiting. watching. fast.
we made it, and yet still

i love my father.
it is delicately balanced with a kind
of impotent rage that is seen only
in movies in which princesses are
deprived of their rightful thrones:

my throne was meant to be on those
broad, loving shoulders-- but instead
i got bruises, and tears, and rage
as my inheritance, and
i want to give it back
i haven't seen him since i was a small child, and the man i would call father for the ten years after that was even worse than him; but still, being the lesser of two evils doesn't absolve him from what he did.
(W = Anonymous Elderly Woman With Sudden and Severe Dementia)


"I was an evil little girl".
I used to stick my tongue out at little boys. They would say,

Then the teachers would always say,

"Young man, she is a respectable young lady and has done no such thing".
So I'd put my thumb to my nose and make faces as they sat".

"My grandmother always raised us to be "GOOOD" "GOOOD" and I was goood.
It was so boring.
They used to get so frustrated with me".

"I was so proud of my father.
Everywhere he went he had to fix people.
He changed things
nomatter where he'd go. He always said

He never loved me. Didn't have time. I should call him.
I want to call my father"


"Did he ever self-actualize and realize that he was making their lives /his version/ of better? Before he died, did he realize maybe what he thought was better wasn't better for everyone?"


He was a tsunami that changed everything he touched. We girls
respected him.

Listen to me, hah.
talking about such things, on a toilet.
I have no dignity left.
We have to laugh.
Am I crazy?


"You're no more crazy than I am.
Who wants to be sane? That's no fun".


"That's right!
If you can't laugh,
you die".


"Earlier, to describe yourself
as a child, you said
you were "Evil".
Do you beleive that part of the reason you were so "evil"
was because you were beautiful?
And you knew it?".


She paused for a moment and pursed her lips in contemplation.


The woman nods a slow turtles nod, with both eyes shut and squinting and a pouted mouth.
Her puckered lips fade into a smile.

"Yes, absolutely It was".
Next page