I need a new outlet
I need a new outfit
Cuz I'm burning out
And soon I'll be naked
My clothes are burning off
But then you'll see my heart
When these flames burn off my skin
So I'll think twice about it.
It didn't matter. We didn't matter.
"I saw you and felt nothing."
"I saw...you know...and felt something."
That's what you said to me.
You don't want to keep hurting me.
You didn't want to keep lying.
Those statements didn't make a difference when I confronted you, crying.
"Honestly, you're sick."
Disgust and a sour taste filled my mouth.
Your feelings for me are too intense?
That was the same for me.
Notice how that sentence was in past tense.
You couldn't breathe for a second?
You didn't think about your lapse in judgement?
I'm not asking for the world, which you wouldn't be able to give.
I'm asking for the respect,
r the prospect.
Now I'm here, confused.
Tell me what am I supposed to do?
Hold your hand and be a healer
or slap it away because of fear.
An outlet of articulates, is this solemn, surreal site.
Many minds, and many more, shall glow beneath its light.
Yet sadly for myself I've found, the holes within it all,
and now no longer does my heart, answer to its call.
Goodbye poetry, and thank you always; you deserve all you achieve-
Thank you for giving us a place
to share what we believe.
I will say hello to you, and glow with all again someday,
But for now I say goodbye- as I go on my own way.
Babies get all the attention
Babies get all the love
I understand that they're cute, but why must I be ignored for one?
Are my needs not as urgent?
Are my words not as sweet?
I could be just like them but I want you to listen to me.
Listen to my scars, that you never hear
Listen to the way my words go in one ear and out the other.
First it's always baby, then sister, then brother.
I'm not a bratty child to you, I have my own outlet.
But I know that when I bleed your name you will never. Listen.
The howling dark, twists my soul, let life be forgotten once more.
The dark cavern that is my chest lets even the brightest of lights die,
never can I rest, troubled times are all I have, I revel in my own misery
every night before the cold embrace of sleep takes hold of my sickened life,
words of lies to others is all I have, I pass each day with thoughts of sanity but
these thoughts of sanity cause my insanity, I hear the howling winds once more,
they taunt me, will my mind break from these sounds or will the wind end before the dawn.
Find an outlet
Release your soul
I've been trying to write poetry
I think I just need to go back to therapy
I've never been good at explaining how I feel
I thought putting it on paper would help
But the thoughts in my head move too fast for me to dictate
Maybe I should learn shorthand
Or maybe I could start kickboxing
I'm trying to find a way to get all of this **** out of my head
But it's sticking to the inside of my brain like tar in lungs
I'd scream, but I'm afraid nothing would come out.
I just realized
As I was shuffling
Through my poems
A majority of