Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
benedict Jan 12
hell, i'm doing so well
getting sleep
eating vegetables
running on the treadmill
finishing my homework
staying off my phone

so why do i feel kind of numb?
why do i dream of nothing and
why does this food have no taste and
why can't i catch my breath and
why haven't i talked to my friends in days and
why do i want someone to punch me

i feel so sick
energy drinks every morning
throwing up every night
looking at my figure in the mirror
blisters on my hands
words caught in my throat
tw: ed & sh
um anyways
neth jones Nov 2021
how much time left do I
apply my mined
knot kneaded
Denise Uy Oct 2020
The wall is my punching bag
and your face is my inspiration.
Even when my knuckles sag,
there is no hesitation.

I have bruises on my fingers
but it is not the wall's fault.
It is the surge of my anger's
and they make my fists stronger.

The poison you poured in me
is overflowing the bottle.
Every punch the wall meets
is every sip of my struggle.

The pain is sinking in
and it feels worse than the bruises.
It's buried deeper within
so I dig but it refuses.

The wall is nothing
to what festers inside.
My punches do nothing
and there is nowhere to hide.

The disease is within me
and it is thriving in my mind.
The only way out is nowhere in sight.
I looked to my fists to set myself free
but my fists have no eyes
so I cannot see.

Now, my arms deserve to rest.
I'll even bid them a good night
because today won't be the worst
and I'll need them another time.
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
there was this one time
when some boy
looked at his friend
and said,

"you fight like a girl."

that same boy
called me a ****
and slapped my ***
when I walked by.

that same boy
got hit so hard,
his face smashed
against a locker in a
high school hallway.

that same boy
broke his nose and
chipped two teeth.

I looked down at him
and said,

"I fight like a girl too,
and I just ****** you up."
Zack Ripley Aug 2020
"I wish I could fight."
"You can."
"How? I don't know how
to punch or move."
"You fight with words.
It's called kung fu typing."
"Kung fu typing?
Did you just make that up?
Doesn't sound very cool."
"It's not supposed to be.
But if you master it,
you'll never need to worry
about not knowing
how to punch or move."
Maja Mar 2020
It was a joke
he didn’t mean to lift his hand
he didn’t mean to bring it down

he didn’t mean to raise it a second time
he didn’t mean to commit a second crime.

He didn’t mean it.

But if everyone got pardoned
for the things they said and did without meaning,
everyone would hit
and no one would mean it.
Again, actions speak louder than words, and ironically, that is because you can't say them.
Trust the first fist,
not the apology that comes after when the deed is already done.
Marri Jan 2020
You confuse karate with love.
You punch, kick, and block.
You master the form,
Practice and practice.
You remember the creed.
Karate is not love.
You don’t kickstart the heart,
You can’t block love out,
Or punch it into submission.

I confuse love with poetry.
I read, write, and dream.
I master the edict of the pen,
Recite and recite.
I remember the sonnets.
Poetry is not love.
You don’t stanza the heart,
You can’t make a metaphor out of love,
Or personify it into breathing.

When will we learn?
When will you stop kicking Cupid?
When will I stop serenading him?
When will we stop this silly interpretation of love?

I don’t know,
But I’ll stop if you stop too.
I try to make your place
in my overweight heart
as small as possible

and yet

you punched your way
through my chest
with only two words

(my angel)
Next page