Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tony Tweedy Mar 2019
If I could live my life just to repair my mistakes...
To turn left when I went right or right when I should have gone left...
To unhurt those I have hurt...
I think I would be one hundred and eighty nine when I was done.
How can so many lifetimes bear the knowing of me?
Even but briefly.
Cause and effect, choice and consequence.... the physics of human non physicality.
I was going to call this "If I could turn back time".... visions of Cher sitting on a naval gun scared me off. Choice and consequence multiplied by 7 billion... no wonder **** happens.
CautiousRain Mar 2019
I walked into your life an actress,
putting on a show for you,
miming who I thought I was
with lifeless limbs exerting so much effort,
nearly hollow did I feel,
typecast, merely trying to not collapse in front of you
like a miserable cutscene signaled too quick;
yes, it is most unfortunate
you fell in love with an actress
playing a role she didn’t know how to keep.
oh god I don't know when I wrote this but um, it's something
Colm Mar 2019
You make me smile like a smart chess move
With anticipation no less intriguing
You are the stroke of ivory in the lingering key of whatever tune has been most on my mind

Your heart must be yellow as a sunflower warm
As it melts away and slowly warms
The winter of my mind turned cold

And now, amidst the houring fields
Where this sound once was young
How it is only my wish for the time to grow old
Another sound, another sight
Em MacKenzie Mar 2019
Years ago I closed that door,
my mind absent and I forgot to check the lock.
What came knocking, the same as before,
with the repeated conversations where I could never talk.

How did I come to this,
it’s like a loop repeated in time,
but it’s the only one I want to end.
Watch tragedy stem from bliss,
no lemons so life tossed me a lime,
I’ll keep stirring but it won’t blend.

Today I singed myself with a cigarette
in question if I could still detect heat.
No pain, no burn, no reflexes or regret,
no warmth for I to ever greet.

How did this take over,
I saw the path in front of my eyes,
with weeds and fences blocking the way.
It’s all crimson and clover,
painted and blended in the skies,
and I hope the landscape will stay.

I made a list last night
of the things I want in life,
and you’re at the top i’of the chart.
The other numbers have grown trite,
and they’re blank with strife
because everything else has come apart.

Darling, what do you think of me?
and how often, how frequently?
I’ve been comparing and relating,
Lovely, do you still have your key?
To my breath and heart beating,
I’ve been longing and debating.

The cold winds are now rising,
the night has only grown more dark,
avoiding destruction appears tantalizing,
but my eyes remain fixated on that one spark.
It has the potential to set the world ablaze
though I only wish to warm up my bones,
and after all these years you still completely amaze
you’re unlike anyone else, no match to any snowflakes or stones.
Em MacKenzie Feb 2019
Every waking hour, I’m battling insecurities
they turn my mood sour, and I’m begging anyone to “stomp them please.”
Boiling and ice, so hot then cold,
a mistake now made twice,
I should remember the lessons I’m told.

Please stop feeding me that riffraf
all the way up the *****.
Part of me just wants to laugh
‘cause I’m not sure what else to do.

It’s the little things that compile,
and create the big things,
still work to find a smile
and return back to the swings.
Boiling and ice, scalding to freeze,
a mistake now made thrice,
the right answer’s just a tease.

Please stop feeding me that riffraf
all the way up the *****.
To calm myself I run a candlelit bath,
but the tap is just pouring glue.

We all keep walking with broken legs
and keep carrying on bleeding wounds
Even the proudest person still begs
for life to grow from ruins.
I want to solve the mystery,
travel through time and space,
‘cause this reality is misery,
when I’m not in my rightful place.

Please stop feeding me that riffraf
all the way up the *****.
The ups and downs shown on a graph,
and the statistics are painfully true.
Start by telling me everything,
as I’ve got my own show and tell,
I’ll expose myself to your sting
as long as you promise to make my heart swell.
jissel Feb 2019
There are things one can let others know by saying them, others things need to be shown by specific actions. At times actions show more than what one can ever be declared, vise versa. But do things naturally fall into two categories? No, and of course there is a piece in between where they cross between and is that a good thing? Again, there is no way for one to answer the question without lacking in the circumstances. And the conditions are where it reveals how little I know about everything. I'm finding out about the anything and everything to help this, this abstract blur that I keep searching for. If there are gaps, we always choose to build a bridge where there might not be intended to be one. Don't jump to conclusions. Don't run so blindly to things that devise anyone. Stop and think. Think about the simplest of happenings and think about the rarities. What are the odds then? 4.543 billion years. 7.53 billion people. Seven continents and an incredible number of casualties. Still, here it is — what a time to be alive. No one is given a choice but what's there to it? There are countless things I've left boiling in me, and an even more significant amount that I've left unsaid. But the saccharine feeling of merely being surrounded by knowing people like this exist is incomparable. I like being while another person I care about is also being. It makes me feel less like such a human being and more of an extraordinary thing. If you jump, please do so knowing wherever you may land could potentially lead. remember that when you jump, it may lead to severe states, or to places and feelings you'll enjoy forever. "All we wanna know is where the stars came from But do we ever stop—ever stop to watch them shine? Or are we staring with—staring with ungrateful eyes?"
Eric Feb 2019
Imprinted on my mind
To think of you a thousand times
Before the minute was over

Hollow as the sounds echo
Nothing to hang onto , I must let go
New hour has begun

But silence fell over the voiceless voice
That feeling of thinking I had a choice.
The dark day has arrived .

Million words , a million ways, to say
I love you, and not a letter missing out of eight.
It's been a week

Eternity line snapped, hopeless string.
And I believed in every Viber of my being.
How many months has it been.

Rewind and please stop , I'm dieing
In your world , I'm not even trying
But my minutes are years .

However long this eternity takes it to be
I'll always wish someday you'll know me
Even after 6 years of "nothing"...
How do you heal a bruise on your mind?
I have yet to find out to erase memories.
How can one person sit on someones mind till that person is crushed? . Every minute of every day . I think of every moment I let slip away . Don't let go of love . Even know love let go of you.
CautiousRain Jan 2019
All our kisses seem so cold
in shadows of past times spent,
even though they were actually
warm and ever present;
It hurts so bad to know I lost
A man I loved that never existed.
Always
CautiousRain Jan 2019
Dejected, I've detected
that the things people say
can't make sense anymore;
God, it's hopeless, I'm lost,
and maybe someone out there
can tell me where it went wrong.

I want to believe him,
yes, I do,
but who's the fool here
to think it's true?

Please forgive me,
those of you who come close,
for not taking chances
in letting myself loose;
I'm just frightened
by what I've left behind
and I'm just frightened
of what lies I might buy.
Oh, did you mean I now have ~trust issues~?
I hate this
nobody Jan 2019
the door in my old room. the one with light blue sky and clouds painted over every inch of the walls. the two window sills in my room, with the dirt from when i’d go in and out of them. my ceiling from which i hung wind chimes. my bunk bed that had alllllll my stuffed animals on the top bunk. with a book called the anybodies (my favorite as a kid) to read on the top bunk with the fan on. anyway,
the door in my old room. i wasn’t allowed to close it, so i almost never did. but when i did, it was so I could write and draw on the white backside. my teenage poetry. pure, ****** poetry.
well i wonder if it’s all still there.
nostalgia is a slow, everlasting-like ******. a guaranteed good feeling. because i feel just enough sorrow that it’s the really good feeling pain because also, i’m happy as if i’m happy crying. if that makes sense
“i know it well” blood bank
momma, i miss you. i feel you. i only wish to ever be enough, and to be a good person.
even the best of us aren’t perfect hm?
my old door was cool. i miss some of those times. i feel like thinking about the lyric “hearts are broken every day.” has been messing with me lately. heartbreak (don’t judge me aight) reminds me that i am human. heartbreak makes me feel mortal in a way few things can. so what is the point of my life when i already know such heartbreak, it’s impacted me a lot, but it is simultaneously an every single day, multiple times per second occurrence. very common. very common **** my ****. that **** hurts in a good way you feel me?
1 - 26 - 19
Next page