The things I write, I find no please. I won’t lie nor dare deceive All so blank and muted, times passed by and the ink stain only grows and wets over, I’ve grown so accustomed to it all Like the tumble weeds that roll in a circus act, no significance for deserved applause — That’s how I see it all
The words, Christ, so irresponsibly thrown around Some I can’t even find, despite them laying on the ground — Blanched beauty, twisted Frames where has my head been wondering off today? All a shoddy word puzzle, with no ounce of light or single Saving grace
I use my illnesses as an excuse to not do what needs to be done, to not do what I want to be done. Careless.
I spent hours and hours on a project I love, but will likely never finish. Yearning.
I went the whole week without finishing a single assignment. Negligent.
I leave my hundreds of abandoned projects by the wayside, despite wanting to work on them all. Distracted.
I dream of creating so, so much, but don't ever commit to something because it's not instantly gratifying. Idiotic.
I wrote a poem about how awful I am for friends and strangers alike to see and pity me over. Egotistical.
I told my parents that I did homework when I just lazed around all week. Liar.
I waste money on food when there's food in the house. Lazy.
I woke myself up too late at night with this poem in mind. Irresponsible.
I want to **** myself sometimes. Selfish.
I don't know if this is similar to any kind of previously defined poem, but I followed a clear pattern in my word choice and stanza structure that I haven't seen elsewhere. Sometimes, you just want to define yourself, even if the definition isn't really always true. I think I'll call this kind of poem "Défini via des Mots," because it just seems right to name it in french, haha.
I know what you think But we will still drink We're all cases for a shrink But we will still drink We'll be filthy, we'll stink But we will still drink In our ears, constant clink But we will still drink We can't dance to anything But we will still drink Feels like a cult, this our ring But we will still drink Our behaviour needs a swing But we will still drink Our songs make no ding But we will still drink It's fun like it's spring But we will still drink Can no longer tell any drink's distinctive sting But we will still drink The night has taken us under its wing But we will still drink We've had our necks on a string But we will still drink We miss half our lives in a blink But we will still drink [thanks, J.] My pen's out of ink **** it, the night isn't over
Wrote this yesterday on a friend's birthday party, she also contributed the closing lines. So thanks, J., much appreciated.
It's raining outside you might get drenched the kids won't play their phones get wet the parents come home just soaked in sweat from living a life they have not led happy with things just being content spending it all and not saving a cent struggling to pay the bills and the rent not taking the actions to help them prevent not making enough with phone calls of threat from the people who are just collecting a debt knocks on the door from people they sent to shut off the lights and close off the vents selling their stuff and the things that they spent like furniture, clothes and videocassettes out on the curb with their kids and their pets gambling away and losing their bets with only each other and maybe regrets
We dress in all black when we’re apart, Two walking shadows trying to escape the dark. You told me you wanted to feel something, And you thought cutting yourself open would be a start. You’re too young to feel this empty, But what is one to feel without a heart.
Love never told us what to do, but your friends did. All of the people who couldn’t keep a lover, Seemed to give the only advice that you listened to. I tried to bring you to your senses, But your hearing and our vision seemed to fail. I said that we should take a break, And you just told me to go to hell. I’ve burned to this very day, My heart too heavy for any scale.
Our home became just another house, One side of the closet cleaned out. My patience and hair are running thin. I just want to be back with you again. I threw everything away that you left, Except for our memories, and only the best.
The pills couldn’t rid my mind of you, But you’re long gone, And all you left me with was the song That was your laughter And the art That was your smile.