Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
William Jul 2
Trapped in snow,
My carriage enthralled.
Only sound I hear, the ravens call.
The wolves in the distance,
Their cries do tease.
Carried on the bite of winters breeze.
The trek is hopeless,
No end in sight.
I shudder fiercely in limitless night.
No fire to warm.
No stars to light.
Dawn approaches through snow ladden trees.
I cannot help but feel at ease.
Stopped to rest, my body weary.
Sleep does come, so dark and dreary.
My body numb.
No tears to cry.
Frozen dead is where I lie.
Knawed upon by bear and bird,
By wolf and shrew.
Consumed by beasts just passing through.
Bones lay picked clean,
Dressed by morning dew.
Fragmented, scattered, is where I remain.
Haunted eternally by the ravens refrain.
5/29/20

He had a disconcerting posture, one that
makes people feel uneasy about themselves.
And the days seemed to roll over— obedience to the
incessant pounding of violence and tumults.

Makes the people feel uneasy about themselves
when they lie down instead of uproar. When silence is
the incessant pounding of violence and tumults.
When the hush of a mouth becomes asphyxiation.

When they lie down instead of uproar. When silence
becomes weapons. Days roll over— obedience to the
hush of a mouth— becoming asphyxiation. When the word    “breathe”    becomes    the    last    one.
Delyla Nunez Aug 28
Understand
I could plainly tell you what I’m saying.
I’m screaming in my head for you to know what I’m saying, yet it’s never enough.
My words could be a simple as learning how to write. Voicing your thoughts onto paper and making them into words.
I could be in my bed crying myself to sleep and only to wake up with our call dropped.
I’m still hurting and I’m tired, you don’t make it easier for me; even though you couldn’t since you are you.
It’s all a ******* lie, no matter how hard I am trying, no matter what I do. It wouldn’t be enough. Ever.
Byron Aug 10
I do not wish to end my speech with a dot or a coma,
I only wish for my speech to be heard loud and clear.
I may not be able to wish for a second chance for my speech,
And still, I will hold on until the bruises are gone,
And tears are no more.

He, who wished for his words to be heard,
She, who came to his life like an angel in the sky,
They became one like day and night as a whole.
No Life, No Worries!

No to Life, yet you are still fighting.
No to Worries, yet you are unease.
You are the hero in your own story,
You are loved in every pain

I will find the answer
For my ineffable life,
I will surpass the wall
To see the beauty on the other side

My speech is about to end,
How I wish for it not to end.
But that is life in every angle,
You just have to see through it.
First Poem. I even used this at school and gave the best poem speech ever.

Y'all can follow me through socials: IG & Twitter - justbyronx
kaehaniya Jul 14
some are wicked

heartache, claws, shot in the back

some are just a soul

translucent, silent, empty sorrow

some are kissed

eyes shut, candles, relief

a poet dies

heartache

silent

empty relief
(found poem)
Andy Jul 10
Growing, Feeling, Dreaming.
These are activities I used to do.
Growing up, Feeling emotions, Dreaming of the future.
Before I discovered I was gay.

My experience has growth, growing towards the sun,
Growing towards a box, that I could fit in.
Feeling feelings and shutting them away.
I can’t be gay.

I used to dream of great things,
Changing the world and helping people out,
But I am riddled with self-hatred,
And can’t escape, for I am a product of pressured hate.

I feel like a sunflower, Growing in the summer.
I am admired from up close but not given another look when moved on.
Sometimes I feel as though I have come to my fall,
To rid my seeds and go to sleep.

Withstand the pressure or crumble to a system,
A system of unvalued lives,
Open your eyes and see the truth,
Your gay friends are on the news.
Not as heroes or as villains but,
As stereotypes and hidden additions.

I don’t see myself, I do not see in third person,
I breathe and feel and exist as I am,
Not as a side character and not as an omission,
I am myself, and that is the mission.
This here was the first poem I ever wrote. I really feel as though writing has been extremely cathartic for me and I really hope that opening up my story for others through writing may help in the self discovery and reflectionism that we all could afford to do.
jingKai Jun 11
Steadily the pace increased,
Their paths diverged more and more as they flew
Some said it was gravity.
and it becomes our game
That's what we're doing. ******* up the game.
I hate this game, It isn't fair.
They all laughed at that. Laughed until tears steamed down their faces.
Every one of them was stupid,
I'm your tool, and what difference does it make if I hate the part of that you most need?
The loneliness of power.
The War Pen Jun 8
To some your voice can melt the ice, to others it bites like mice - slowly not to finish but to entice, I can't advise, all I can do is to **** myself away if am the vice.

I wish I could sing like you - You, you move a down soul new, people like you are few, if only he knew, he wouldn't make the same mistake I did before I grew.

You want me to sing?, In B-flat, like what? I only mew like a cat, I sing very low keys always on the ground like a mat, I usually ask myself - my talent, where are you at?, It always answers - just don't excite yourself - cause that which you desire, are nothing like that.
Instead of singing Maybe I will play dart, or *** for ****, like Tom and Jerry the Rat.

The War Pen!
As the snow falls,
all life comes to a standstill.
As we find ourselves
deep inside the comforts of our quilts,
curling up inside, feeling lonely,
and looking for a feeling of warmth inside us.
Searching for memories,
Inside these malfunctioning brains.
Memories that make us smile,
or maybe make us cry.
Our minds desperately searching,
for that feeling of being human,
being broken.
Just to feel some warmth,
only to feel cold.
Doubting all your actions,
What did I do wrong,
what mistake did I make.
It’s me.
I’m broken.
No one can do it.
Maybe we should stop hoping,
give up on everything,
Maybe it’s for the best.
Or maybe not,
Should we dare dream,
Will I be happy?
Should I do as they say,
Keep moving forward,
Into nothingness,
Hoping that things will be different,
This time?
Just as I thought,
The last time.
Looking for the end of the tunnel,
One after another,
filled with sunshine,
as everyone says.
Just to exit it,
bask in the sunlight,
as we get pushed,
into another.
Next page