Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Psychostasis Oct 2020
Do you tell me you love me with sincerity
Or is it out of guilt
Or is it out of pity

The scariest thing about life is never knowing who's saying those three cursed words
And who genuinely means it
Satvik gupta Oct 2020
Sometimes you fail in your life
then
the door shuts , the curtain falls ,  the wind freezes , the water stop altering in different containers . Everything just ends , a complete state of stillness , nothing but just you and your loneliness.
Suddenly,
Out of nowhere you start to realize about ,your mistakes , your deeds , your acts , etc etc. Everything clings your hands and u just want to vanish your existence from here but that too is unavailable for the moment . Nothing works , then , then u start hating yourself , your dilemma grows and screams in each and every cell of your body .  Negativity , Negativity , Negativity

Even though you try to stop this but your efforts become futile . You realize your nature , your feelings , your burns , your stitches , your despairs ,yours regrets , your failures , and what else not !
Flow of sand siezes in your hourglass , you are left alone , no-one is around except your new friend ,loneliness.

The last leaf of your plant welts like your dreary face . You fall apart ,you wither ,  your growth stops .  
But you know what ,  "Mistakes are like gravity , always keeps you down " but up to some extent after that it converts to "FAILURE"

We just need to realize that level  ,  but it ain't that easy my friend.

Sleeping with regrets daily ,
Even I will have a bright future ,
maybe .
Sufferings
estie wari Oct 2020
i often wonder;
how lives the poor man.
i noticed him there
by the bridge.

his skin was burnt
by the coarse light of the day;
i gaped as he stood there
in a ragged attire.
i know im not to judge,
but he didnt look too decent.

now, he walked away with his dish.
a coin or two,
he'd receive
if the bountiful felt pity.

i often wonder,
how strives that poor man by the bridge.
William Robbins Oct 2020
Queen Antonym of Superficial,
I wish the pseudonym of your official
name was just your name.
Your anonymity is so much more to pity,
as your antonyms
are only pretty,
and their anonymity is in their substance.
Mansi Sep 2020
I am learning that self-pity
Is a dangerous thing
That must never
Be allowed into your mind

It might be comforting
In an unusual way
But in reality
It's slowly poisoning
Your mind
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
I feel like crying
But not in front of even a single soul.
I don't need people to tell me it's okay,
Instead I want  ‘me’ to make ‘myself’ whole.

I don't want a thousand glares of pity at my tears,
I don't need empty words thrown in the air.
All I need today is a smile,
A flower blooming from inside.
Sydney Jul 2020
Do you think I'm broken?
'Cause I can't tell anymore.
My smiles aren't mine;
And I can't tell anyone
Because they'll only pity me,
Or take it too personally.
But it's not about you
It's about me.
Maybe I am broken,
My mind,
My heart,
My head.
My happiness is a lie
Because I'm broken.
mothwasher Jul 2020
I am a French horn, a bottle neckless hourglass and butterscotch tape

You're a red harp with veins painted on the side

When I come home, you see me as an acrylic heap with chips of lead and belly aching homing words

Scotch sticks and smoke smells and the stitches are uncomfortable on my neck where you often warm your hands

I am a masquerade of shellfish clamoring on about the epitome of burlesque humor

You’re alien to anything other than sourdough and design

I have structured my thesis around burlesque and you fail to see the humor

When I fear the apologists

You fear the escapists

I am the tigers of the world, borrowing viciousness

You’re a long pause, loved and disquieted, painting my stripes as veins

I’m freaked out now because the apologists are escaping and the escapists are apologizing

At this clear impasse, you pity and press on until my fingers at the French horn drain to my sides

I am an island in a puddle of sand
Next page