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oni Oct 2015
i am alive

and you are but a
of a copy
of a copy
of a copy
of a copy
of a copy
Ottar Aug 2015
the night is quiet,
a blanket dark and heavy,
muffling all sonic sound rings,
almost a surreal peace that brings,
don't even know what a heart is
supposed to sound like, heaving
sighs, tears make no sounds as
they spill from the corner not
the center of closed eyes.


drop the pebble, dare ya
drop the stone, splash ya
drop the boulder, douse ya
they all find the bottom
for a sure footing
              not putting
out more than they displace,
nothing human about their ways,
they don't even know what is drowning.


a flame
hues hunger
to change, to look
more fierce as fuel
force an unleashed force
nature's Berserker, a wildfire,
the wind prophesized over
the conflagration, for-
getting itself and got
involved, until the
fire makes its' own
melded, melting
resistance in the
the way as the
sum feeds upon
itself, yet the
fire is,

Wander through this burning desire to write, nothing light or fluffy here.
pluto Jul 2015
if you're in my life theres probably
a poem written about you
Charlie May 2015
I know this isnt a poem but I feel its my duty as a moral person to report that there is fraudster messaging this websites members and asking them to email "Her" at which point she will send you false information about wanting to transfer money from senegal.
I urge you, if you get a message from a member called nicystephani ignore them, they're only trying to defraud you. Their email is

Please spread this message so that they can no longer try and trick people.

Remember, don't fall victim to foreign scams
I apologise for the tags not relevant, this just needs to be spread.
Cat Fiske May 2015
Every day I wake up and expect to see the sun rise                                        
and see it set.                                                                                                          
                                                    And everyday I wake up and go to school,
                                                                                                 Find my friends,
                                                                                             And set our target,
                                                                 And when your group comes over,
                                                                                  All you do is pick on me,
But if you were isolated,                                                                                      
And I was given some security,                                                                          
                                                 You wouldn't think about messing with me,
                                               You’d be the one who’d walk around all day,
                                                                                                       that someone
                                                                                    was going to insult you,
                                                                                                 every single day,
So when I wake up and see the sun rise,                                                          
And at the end of the day you wait for it to set,                                              
                                                                      what would my world look like,
                                                                  if the sun never went down again?
bullying PSA poem? idk it is a script for a PSA im doing.
Ottar Feb 2015
Hear the motions of the engines,
Speed South to North,
As well North to South,
Care not they, the sounds they make.

It is a confession.
They speed in the land of ****.
It increases, then decreases,
As they travel past, the open window,
Winterless blast, a confession,
It feels close to spring.

Care not a bit that sounds, rude, to those who tomorrow,
Will wake up to snow, while the blizzard sounds here,
Are the rush of thoughtless trucks and cars,
Which are driven at speeds above the posted limit,
Even if they don't have to travel so far,
To get home in the drizzle, to their green grass.

Maybe snow would slow them down,
Or keep them off the road entirely,
No, no, not them, they are rude,
They have this attitude,
Drive like this, no matter what the weather,
They are better than the conditions, they drive in.

Another confession, they are in it to win, and no one
else knows there is a contest and contestants.

What a surPrize!

Hand him a sextant as he drives at night, after all he has to navigate,
Through Facebook and Likes and texts and bytes of downloads from
YouTube...would not want to be fashionably late in reply otherwise
Your social life, and status,
may die.

Trafficking bad habits,
Instead of "look out for the other guy or gal"
The phone and the life it holds,
can be dropped,
"worse than a dropped call",
is all the sirens wail as they go by,
Life in the balance, ghosts
White knuckling it with one hand,
While eyes are fixed, to a deathly white screen
And fingers dance solo in some sexless act,
The result is the same a distracted fact,
The mind is no longer in the car,
It has left the body already,
Waiting for it to die,
Watching from above and reaching to all
Who have fingers and a phone
Wanting to be ghosts and sticking to the life,
Which will make it accident.

Drive defensively,
Leave your phone in the trunk.
Please don't text and drive
Hands free honestly
Show your family, you do love them.
anonymous999 Jan 2015
depression is not being sad. depression is gray-tinted glasses that affect how you see the world, depression turns your emotions from stone to glass, you never knew the meaning of "emotionally unstable" until someone drops you half of a foot and you shatter. until someone cancels on you and somehow you find yourself sobbing in your room because the demons in your head tell you that nobody ******* cares about you, nobody ******* cares about you, nobody ******* cares about you.
depression is real. i can feel it in my chest and on my eyelids and in my head and i can even feel it's iron death grip on my throat.
some days i swore to God there was a four-ton elephant sitting pretty on my chest, but i was the only one who could see it. some days there were five-pound weights hanging from my eyelids and the only way to keep myself awake was to pump myself so full of caffeine that my hands shook while my eyes were still tired, making me exhausted and anxious and hyperactive all at once. some days it took hold of my head, squeezing my eyes so that my reflection was warped and twisted and grotesque, whispering into my ears that i needed to eat less. you need to eat less. some days it attacked my heart. i can not describe the sensation better than to say that some days it felt like my aortas were being beaten by dull wooden stakes or like my blood had been replaced with icewater.
you're sitting in class enjoying a captivating psychology lecture when that thought pops in your head: "why are you even alive?" and your blood freezes, your ribs tighten, and something grabs hold of your windpipe so that all you can do to not say "i want to die" when the teacher calls on you is shake your head and say "i don't know."
you're sitting in math class and you're supposed to be learning about integrals but all you can think about is everyone's reactions if you didn't wake up the next day; you're sick but all you notice is that no one noticed you were gone. maybe no one would notice if you were gone.

one year, food was all that could make me feel happy; i found hope in the dopamine rush from the sugary calories; i rejoiced at the satisfactory feeling i got from devouring half of a pan of brownies.
the next year, yes, i know i have always loved dark chocolate but today i just can't seem to taste it. or anything for that matter.
the only thing i could get myself to ingest were liquids that would take my memories away for a while. i had no problem pouring cheap caramel apple ***** down my throat but could not get myself to pick up a golden delicious and bite into it because i knew i wouldn't have be able to finish it anyway.

depression is real. depression is a ****** up monster that leaves no part of you untouched and can steal the very essence of who you are if you let it. depression can ******* rip you apart. someone will tell you that they love you and all you will be able to say in return is "no you don't."
depression takes away who you are. because you haven't always cried every day, you haven't always been unable to eat, you used to be able to stomach an "i love you" and you used to smile when you saw your little sister.
this is not you, this is depression, depression is real. you are not pretending, you are not 'not trying', you are not 'broken'; honey all you have are some unbalanced chemicals in your brain. but we're going to try as hard as we can to make them go back to normal. i know you're in there.

depression is real. but so are you.
Makenzie Marie Jan 2015
I said no.
I know I said stop.
But I haven’t met a guy yet who understood that.

and No
are not interchangeable
And stop
never means go.

And it’s not her fault
for looking like that
And it’s not her fault
that all he wants is some ***.

But he won’t stop,
and his weight is crushing her
He won’t stop
and he’s forcing her.

The feeling of a man pulling at the back of your hair
isn't a great feeling ever
after you've been there
in her position
unable to control any of it
Unable to push him off
or away
because he’s holding your hands with a wild grip
and with a force that overpowers every ounce of your strength.
After that, the touch of a man will rarely make you swoon or sway.

And you won’t understand
the feeling of guilt that never quite goes away
That feeling that you are weak
and worthless
because all you could do was pray and take it.

Because society has taught her she did something wrong:
That she asked for it
that she invited it.
And maybe she was asking for something,
but that sure as hell wasn't it.
She didn't ask to be treated like she was worthless.

And PSA:
no woman is.
PSA: no woman or girl deserves to be taught by an experience that she is worth nothing. No woman or girl deserves to be taught that she never will be worth anything than what you did to her. No person deserves to be ignored. No person deserves blame for situations out of their control. No human being deserves to be treated or handled like dirt.
We are all human together, so for the love of God can we please stop pushing each other to the ground
Blind Aesthetic Jan 2015
Mary had a dead beat dad
His fist hit hard and cold
Every time that Mary screamed
Her dad would hit two fold
One day Mary ran away
She sought escape from home
She ran until her legs collapsed
Left withered and alone
Two men saw Mary late one night
They sought to take advantage
Mary noticed and she tried to fight
But had the least of leverage
As Mary lay with blood still fresh
Her mind and body numb
She thought of how to end it all
Each thought so very glum
A body lay upon on the ground
That of a dead young lady
Her body bruised with blood around
Skin still warm but faintly
On her chest a message etched
The message reads as follows
"I don't deserve to live
And neither does my father
Because of this fact
I feel an overwhelming sorrow"
This may have been a story
But its one rooted in truth
A child is a gift
We must protect the youth
Another redone nursery rhyme this one with a much more serious tone to it.
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