PoetheticSoul May 14
Skinny, I was told I was not.
Skinny, I was taught.
Skinny is the thing that makes
All the men love you more,
And that makes you hate
Yourself even less.
Skinny is the answer to every
Question you ever had.
Your intelligence, personality,
And your perspective,
It all means nothing. Even your
Heart means nothing, if
Your body is not thin.
Skinny.
Take care not to ever lose
your mind, with what you confuse
is there, and is really not.
Or you may need to choose
what you can, or cannot use
to heal the mind
you have, or haven’t got
Poetic Surgery, Copyright © 2018,  All rights reserved
Emily R May 6
All I ask is for someone who wants me for me
Getting to know me for more than my body
All I get is lust and never love
It’s like I’m never worth the effort
All I get is sweet words and bitter actions
I don’t think I’m asking for much
Someone who wants to text me
Someone who wants to call me
Someone who wants to show me off
Someone who wants to know me deeper than physically
Someone who wants to be by my side
Someone who is for me and only me
And MOST importantly
Someone who wants to go further than this “talking” shit
I don’t want to make a generalization
But they’ve all left me with this realization
Living through horny desires
Thinking the female mind is insufficient
I’m more than capable to think with my mind and put my feelings aside
I see past the sweet lies and fake efforts
I’m tired of these ain’t shit typa guys
The ones that think saying “I’m not like these other dudes” will actually make me believe it
I’m not left broken hearted but this is fucking with me mentally
Leaving me to think that my worth is inordinate
Maybe I’m just being insubordinate
I just want someone to love
Someone to care for
Someone to buy things for
Someone to lay down with
Someone to make happy
Someone to share jokes with
Someone to be there for
Someone to go on dates with
Long drives with no destination
But like a deprived child I don’t get what I want
Maybe the feelings are just one sided
My time is just something to be wasted
Not speaking of infidelity but this lack of effort is measuring to be the same
Feeling unloved I turn to poetry
To my unknown lover
Just know I want nothing more than to make you the happiest you’ve never been
Eleni Apr 28
I am imperfect.
I often take the route
Flooded with rocks and rivers
Jumping from bridge to bridge
Raft to raft, without fully thinking.

I try to immerse myself;
Like each fish and clam,
Surround myself with a layer of thick
security, failing to see it is transparent.

If I can be hunted and seen,
You would no longer see my superficial skin. I would be
bones, meat and dust. Dust from those stars, which burst
their supernova glitter.

And even in the darkest of nights
You will see a skeletal heart, tainted eyes or a
frowning mouth. The rain falls in the forest of my mind,
and as slick as I am,        I slip
trip up on my yellow brick road.

My thoughts are not my own, when I say
things that hurt you and myself.
With my oar I paddle to lands uncharted;
treacherous, dangerous places which must be left in peace.

Tracing the roots of my nerves and the chasms of my brain-
I trespass the battle within.
Andrew Choo Mar 28
They say that
Life is a journey.
But they’re wrong.
But it’s been much more than that.

All my life,
I’ve been running.
Sometimes,
It catches up and slows me down.
When I’m out of breath,
I can’t stop.
I can’t quit.
I can’t let go.
I can’t fail.
I can’t deal with life.

I just have to keep running…
Life’s a marathon.
Jessica Mar 8
Would you listen, if I told you my story,
If I let you in, would you care?
Would you love me if I struggled,
Struggled to tell you everything in my head.
Would you hold me as I cried,
Tell me its okay, tell me I’m not alone?
Because
I’d listen. I’d care. I’d love. I’d hold you…
But would you?
Or would you tell me my biggest fear is true
That I’m just crazy.
Would you even tell me if I was?
Sometimes I speak to much, but do i talk? Or do I just make noise to distract from the truth.
BlancaNigrida Feb 15
The music at the party is pumping.
All the teenagers are     jumping.
But I only hear  my  heart  thumping.
Alone   on the sofa and   slumping.
Stewing in   solitude,   a dumpling.
Starting to   disintegrate,   crumbling.
I feel a disturbance,   a rumbling.
I reach for my phone, I'm   fumbling,
For a text, a call,        something,
Anything to enhance   the    numbing.
I rise from my perch,  stumbling  .
I  collidewithsomepeople, they're grumbling.
Now I'm    falling  out  the  door,   tumbling.

People are laughing, tutting frowning.
They see me on the ground, but I'm
                                                             ­   drowning.
BlancaNigrida Feb 15
I sing to my captor through the bars,
But all he does is mock me, mimic my song,
Trapped, ensnared, fortified.
I have not yet learned to fly
But I have not yet yearned to die:
There is still time to hope, to dream, to fail.
Time has allowed me to realise many a thing,
Like the key that I clasp and the lock that it fits
Just. Out. Of. Reach.
Time has allowed me to reflect,
Like the mirror that shows me my captor,
Previously a window, now a truth.
Just. Out. Of. Time.
One day I'm a knight,
and the next,
I'm a princess

Transition, Transition

One night I'm a queen,
and the next,
I'm a king

Transition, Transition

Or perhaps a dragon
at dawn,
and a fairy
at dusk

Why is it like this?
Why must my brain change?
Transition, transition,
that is all I can say
Laura Friloux Jan 10
What the hell is wrong with me?

I pretend everything is OK.

I want everything to be perfect.

But instead, I always mess it all up.


I'm so done with pretending.
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