Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Karly Codr Dec 2020
i wish that i
could be good enough
for at least one person
in my measly life
Karly Codr Nov 2020
i'm not good enough
for them
i don't spend enough time
on my homework
instead i draw
i spend too much time listening to music
my room isn't clean enough
i play piano too loud
i'm in band not sports
i just can't be good enough for them
no matter how hard i try
i always end up crying in my room at night because the only thing i feel is not being good enough
Ace Oct 2020
Me
I am from screens and bright machines
that show whole new worlds
that I use to pretend I’m
not living in this one.

I am made of the sharp smell
of artificial apples and cinnamon
burning your throat as you breathe it in
like secondhand smoke.

I am made of lonely days
spent on my phone
pretending to laugh when people say or send something
because I know they need the ego boost.

I am made of late nights
when I shut my phone off
and I start to cry
because I know that no one thinks about me after I go.

I am made of hours spent huddled
as my brother spits vitriol at my parents
and they take it with willing ears and become submissive dogs
with tails between their legs.

I am made of hellfire
carefully bottled up
until someone pushes me to the edge
and I am ready to ****.

I am of thousands of cups of black coffee
sobbed over at three am
alone in my kitchen
hands searing, but refusing to let go.

I am from carefully counting every dollar
wondering when
I am allowed
to leave this town.

I am from four am walks
alone through the town
taking in the sights
and praying the sun will rise.

There’s a shattered hand mirror in my room.
Broken glass litters the cold dark marble
and teardrops drip all over the shards,
because even in all of these things that I am,

I am still not good enough for myself.
Rylie Lucas Jun 2020
I don't know what I did
The past is so blurry
I can't remember
What I did to deserve this
My mind won't leave me alone
But you will
My hands move on their own
Texting you again
I know you'll never love me too
I understand you're using me
But red flags through rose-tinted glasses
Just look like flags
Armed with my heart on my sleeve
And rose-tinted glasses
Ready for you to use me
Because pain is the only thing that's real
Desolate and barren,
The canyons call to me
Like the coyote calling the moon.
It feels so familiar,
Feels just like home.

Lugubrious and dwelling,
This weight cannot leave my
Chest until I relieve it;
And I can’t succeed,
Not this time.

Swallowed up into a sea,
I forfeit to a controlled fate.
Yes, I feel the downward spiral.
Yes, I sense the impending disaster.
No, I cannot bring myself to change it.

Here, I fall so short.
I never claimed to be an angel;
In fact, the Devil loves me.
I take his demons and allow
Them shelter within me.

Yes, I know the damage done.
Yes, I will never stop the spiral.
No, I cannot bring myself to change,
And that is where I continue
To
         f
              a
                     l
                          l
                                 short.
Ghost May 2019
One of the hardest things in life is learning to say goodbye to someone you once loved. It's even harder to move on im speaking from my past mistakes i wish i could take them back but i cant. Im now staying goodbye and moving on
harley r noire Feb 2019
once upon a time,
seven princesses
and a dreaming dwarf
stood in the face
of a broken looking glass.
a short, vague piece. insecurity at its finest.
Solitude Man Nov 2018
She’s at a place where she feels trapped
As the mist rises and her sun is crying
She cant help but feel alone
Alone is a place were she’s been forced to feel
At home

She cannot recognise a noble deed
And allow that memory to take her
Instead the fear of being unloved
And hardly good enough
grip her hand

With every word
she is paranoid and annoyed
and triggered
into retreat
into alone
a place she calls home

they roll down a familiar face
warm and comforting
Its because she couldn’t stay
She wanted to, believe her

Believe she wants to be a better her
But she clings to alone
As a familiar face
A childhood case
That she needs to shake
She loves alone but hates it
She hates the time it gives her to think
About how unfamiliar the un-alone really is

She wants to share but she doesn’t know how
She wants to talk but she’ll be misunderstood
She wants to love him but she’s making him numb
Her sorry self is a burden and the cause of pain.
She says she felt rushed but she is here now
More in love than he can see
And then then there’s the stabbing thought that he wants to be free
Now she is comfort crying
Alone.
V liv Nov 2018
Yearning
to be something i'm not
to be someone i'm not
Artistic
what does that mean
does it mean I can articulate my feelings  
beautifully
does it mean I can sing
or dance
or rhyme
or cry
or read
or breathe
or love
beautifully?
I don't think I can
how sad
that i'm not artistic
how sad
Next page