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Mark Wanless Nov 2019
i know there is an
elephant in the room
i see big grey toenails
b Nov 2019
my class ends at 11:30 and ill
be home by 12.
so little in this world can give me
comfort like a closed door and a
grey sky through a
curtain.
maria Nov 2019
14
my life ended in the age of 14
since then nothing changed
still the same broken heart
the same grey clouds
As soon as I read my old notebook of thoughts, I realised that I'm the same person as I was 5 years ago

my most honest poem

Written on November 26, 2019
abby Nov 2019
I've been bitten by the frost and it burns just like the cost of the awful way you crawled away because you could not stay

I try so hard to run along the fray on the outside keeping the demons all at bay
Without you, love seems the color grey.
Merinda Nov 2019
First date of Miss Yellow and Mr. Grey Sky
They met in the eastside
Talking about the earth and the light
How to shining bright within dark side
And how to let it rain in the night

It's not easy
But it has to be
Perfect match of the storm and windy
Quite beautiful even rising gloomy
Devin Lawrence Nov 2019
The clown keeps a journal filled with his suicidal thoughts;
His face wet with paint and his hair soaked in dye,
he laughs to himself as he reads the words scribbled across the pages.
They crescendo like the build up of a joke -
splashes of ink blots suggest that his pen blew up before the punch-line.

He remembers a time when the earth was grey;
the morning dew seeped into everyone’s socks
and they walked around with heavy feet,
indifferent to the man beside him
walking on the bare flesh of his toes.
Then a stream of water dribbled out from the prank flower on his chest.

In a world so addicted to tragedy,
comedy is sublime,
like the nicotine rush from a cigarette.

Yet laughter is a bond so easily broken.
The white on his face can wipe away,
the lipstick can smear,
and the dye can fade.
But beneath all of that is a smile,
a smile that persists
because nothing is wrong
when the clowns come out.
Hayley Nov 2019
I am you.
You, who feels the grey underlay.
You, who can feel so happy and yet at the same time the numb weight is beneath you.
You, who can laugh, smile and wave because you’re so good at being brave.
You are happy.

You, who talks to their friends,
You, who loves another human.
I am you.

You, who thinks about dying and just stopping being.
You, who knows that something’s wrong,
But, you’re fine.

I am you who lies horizontal with the clouds, feeling the grey underlay but always reaching to keep your face in the sun.

No one close to you will ever know, but I know. I see you. I am you.
Ivy Dec 2018
Just like clouds on a rainy day
your gentle words fade away
your letters fade from black to grey
your smile slowly fades away
and one day you will also-
fade away
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