Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
John Nov 2017
I ceased to believe I exist
On a plane so devoid of bliss
For with every forthright step
And each grasp of reality I get
I sink like a ship, just a blip
On your radar, I've been hit
Mayday, mayday for someday
Maybe I will find myself able to stay
But, for now, I'm shuffling, stumbling
Through thick trees and weathering the rumbling
From the grazed grounds beneath me
The Sun, before me, merely setting
And I find myself wishing, wondering
Where it is I am actually heading.
Nick Moser Jan 2016
If this was a poem,
Would you read it?

And if this was a song,
Would you sing it?

And if this was a paper map showing you how to get to Rancho Cucamonga, California,
Would you be inspired by it?

Or just put your joint down already?
I love to say "Rancho Cucamonga."
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.
Daylight 4U2C Mar 2014
I can't do this anymore.

HELP!                                                        I'm falling apart on the floor.

Sleeping has become my only score.

I've can't even cry.
                                                                      Must be strong for the poor.

I'm okay on the outside.
                                                                   I'm crashing down in the core.

Tell me "It's okay."
                                                          Let me blindly love tomorrow's day.

I want to speak,
                                                  but sometimes, there's nothing left to say.

I want to smile..
                                                    ..but no..
                                                                                               I'm not okay.
I'll never admit it.
                                                                                      I fall apart everyday.

I was heading to "Out The Window",
                                                                        but hit a *** hole on the way.

Am I even trying?
         Why am I always lying-
                                                ..on this floor..
begging,
pleading,
stressing,
for more than I have the courage                                        ..to ask for?..
comments? Give some hearts?

— The End —