Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Always talk,
talk to everyone around.
Keep smiling and laughing,
Don't do any thing alone.

That's not who I am,
But it's what everyone likes.
Laughter is not that good a friend,
How can I smile, when inside I am crying?

If you my friend,
Have a knife.
Give it to me,
I need to ****** twice.
One my heart and the other my mind,
Because I can't smile, when I am dying inside.

Once they are gone,
I'll start a new life.
In this one I am talkative,
And more often do I laugh and smile.

Maybe then they will accept me,
Even if that's not who I am.
In trying to change my essence,
They lost a daughter, a friend.

I know at the end,
I will still be alone.
But just existing,
Not living anymore.

My mind and heart gone,
I will be truly alone.
But I hope they will be happy,
Because to please them,
I am not myself anymore.
Anshika Jain Jul 2020
Yet , it look so beautiful
but making me ugly inside.
The bridges created by us
were unsurely doubting us
lacking the sense of being loved
we ended up being stifling
beneath our own bridges.
It's basically about the choked friendship or relationship in which we get to personal and possesive , thereby leading to hurt each other by buliding those bridges .
Sara S Jul 2020
Oh would that I were less self aware
I'd hear their words
not feel their stare
Dante Rocío Jul 2020
On est là,
Sur un boulevard de
Lit en air
Et déplié,
L’œil vers le début de
Toit
Comme l’enfant de question.

On s’est dépensé trop vers
Au-delà,
Vers aux opinions de l’étrange,
Non propres miennes
Et on n’était plus.
Pleurer. Glorifié/-er.
Déteste parler et passer soi-même.

I know at last why I and Poetry
Got lost in a forest while
Looking for each other:
I pushed it out of
The tree line
And left it to withering
Formal ways of public.
Maimed in the stage lights it
Got to smoke cigarettes
And now something
Has to be done
To retrieve it.
Mais on a déjà le clé.
J’ai sa trace
Di indietro degli arboli.

Bon sang,
L’extravertisme me tue (comme
L’alcool en excès),
L’introvertisme me guérit,
Seule là on se reveille
Aux blessures en excès
Par le jonque d’exister en vain
(Parmi les poubelles intellectuelles).

On est pas pour le public
À son plaisir rationnel.

Et Jeanne « du Russe » a l’odeur
De la cuisine
Et du refuge.
When like water you spill yourself too much and you can’t get yourself back into your glass
To take a shape and be still.
On a semi-spiritual atelier in a sullen state.
(Are there still Poets who write on HP in French?)
Starbucks generation
Stand in line
Heads down
Don’t make a sound
Get your venti iced whatever
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Bina Mukherjee Jul 2020
An average being on earth
Who never tried to take a big leap.
An average being on earth
Who has always been a timid.
An average being on earth
Who never dared to upset anyone.
An average being on earth
Who shouts out from her heart now
Someone on earth please hear her out.

Bina Mukherjee
Sophie Lucy Jun 2020
Why do I always sit alone?
Why am I afraid?
I just can't ever condone
The stupid things people say.

Is this problem theirs?
Or is it purely mine,
I guess nobody cares,
For me nobody pines.

Why don't I loosen up?
Why don't I just have a drink?
Because my head is way too full,
I can't even hear myself think.

I know I don't need to keep this up,
I could just please the crowd,
But so far I've still got some luck
I don't want to run out.

Some day, someone will get me,
They'll understand my ways,
Then together we can party
For the rest of our perfect days.
Contentment,
you're never alone
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru-uyQHvTfY&t=13s
Next page