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Mia May 18
One year. It felt like a cloudy night sky.
Nothing. Darkness, suffocating, painful darkness.
And then, occasionally, there were fireworks.
Moments of joy that last for seconds, until they fade away.

I’ve been trudging through this darkness
With no progress, no developments
Beyond who I am inside.
But the world doesn’t stop turning.

I still feel inadequate and talentless.
I still feel like an empty void
That has it together well enough that no one would look inside.
But I’m about to tear apart.

I need to do something!
I can’t be a parasite.
But there’s nothing I can do.
I feel so wrong.

Help me so I don’t need help.
I've still been writing, just not as much as before. University has been a huge waste of time so far and completely killed my creativity. I also feel alone and useless, so it's been fun lately.
Sorry for vanishing for 6 months, I haven't forgotten about you all.
Mark Jan 30

Don't let self-doubt
Contaminate your thoughts.

Don't let apprehension
Block your airways.

Don't let fear
Hold your throat in choke.

Don't let anxiety
Sever your tongue.

Don't let anything
Stop you from conjuring
Words from your depths.


And be heard.
Chiara Jan 11
I love the night for the stars in the sky,
Yet I hate it for the thoughts that come to mind...
Thoughts of doubt while sleep won't find me,
Thoughts of inadequacy nagging on me.
That's why I lie awake, wishing to see stars instead
And I ask myself a question:
Just when will these thoughts end?
Amber E Dec 2019
I feel blindsided by your dishonesty
Shocked to know that this is you
The real you
Not the prince I saved my soul for

I am pierced by your callousness
I would have laid down my very life
In order to defend your honor
Alas, morning would not have come for me

It isn't malice that encases me
It is a bottomless, frigid anguish
Because it is now clear what's inside your heart
And I'm not there anymore
Does it ever get better? Will I ever breathe again?
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
I need to teach myself
that when they leave,
when they fall out of love,
when they reject,
It's not always because of my inadequacy
but rather it speaks
volumes about them.
Amelia Rose Jul 2019
Scribbled out lines of feelings I can't seem to place
Lists of metaphors for how I'm breaking
None good enough to put on paper
Adjectives required to romantices these feelings escape me
So I ramble lines of repetition, circular arguments, poor cliches
How can anyone love me if I don't love myself?
How am I worth loving if no-one really loves me?
As I try to put my feelings on lifeless paper
I wonder how I once found this easy
And if it's my poetry, me feelings or just me that isn't quite good enough
A Mar 2019
she told me she loved me,
but she would only hold my hand.
she wouldn’t let me touch her hips
or even give her a kiss goodbye.

she told me she loved me,
but it’s been a year since we kissed.
she only hugs me when I ask for it,
my God, I miss the bliss.

she told me she loved me,
but I felt like she didn’t mean it.
she looked me in the eye,
and somehow I couldn’t see it.

she told me she loved me,
but why wouldn’t she say sorry?
then I figured that maybe,
she does love me,

but just not enough.

Alek Mielnikow Mar 2019
"If it has nothing to do with me
Then why should I even be here?"
That sounded far more narcissistic
Coming out of my mouth. But
I meant exactly what I said, and
I knew exactly what I meant.
I knew exactly what I meant.

By Aleksander Mielnikow
Lookup AlekthePoet on the Googles to find me through other mediums, if you wish. Of course, HelloPoetry is awesome though so who cares lol.nar
Daan Feb 2019
A mild case of impostor syndrome,
a severe symptom in the form of
confabulations without instigations,

are the base of our disease.
Who we are, is glued to our
actions, due to devour
what our soup tasted like before it all went sour.

This is nonsense, this is weak,
this is no writing of which people speak.
Is it even right in use to say the things, written.
Stop longing for the time of long before,

when we were all still rid
of conscious thought and feeling,

back when we were reeling in and out, casually,
of our devout inadequacy.
When do we deserve a title and when are we what we’re called?
AprilS Jan 2019
I grieve for the poems
Drawing a map of my soul
Failing in the beauty of the form
My body a mirror of this
Carrying me so adequately
Beauty and grace absent to others eyes
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