phoenixfire May 27

I am nothing more than a journal.
People pour their soul into my skin and spine,
Slowly watching me break and wither, but they continue.
I am drowning in pages of sorrow
and sadness.
And I cannot come up for air.
But that is okay,
I am nothing more than a journal.
People pencil in their stories with hasty tongues and hurtful hearts.
They do not see that in turn I am hurting too.
For with every tale written, I am losing myself.
Not many pages are left.
But that is okay,
I am nothing more than a journal.
People use me to indulge in their thoughts,
and once they have had their fill,
they are gone.
There is a new journal to seek.
I am left battered,
Destined to be picked up once again,
Only to be read and reflected on,
Because I am of no substance, I am just a keeper of Theirs.
People read me but do not READ me.
Because I am nothing more than a journal,
And my true contents are blank.

Lori Apr 19

there's a competition out there
turn this iPad into a typewriter
turning tables sweeping floors
is the price of the dream
softening and fluffing eggs
with slices of butter
is the delight of the realm
of nocturnal writers
trying to find time to live
while making a living
social media makes
anyone overnight a
star but here you sit
alone in classrooms
sighing sleep deprived
here you sit alone
reading during lunch
in the sunlight inhaling
words and phrases for
the soul and here you
sit alone again in this
crowded room listening
to everyone's lives while
yours whispers by
wondering how it feels
to be relevant enough
to be the voice of
a generation and
to be written about
nobody notices the
silent ones here you
sit in this bathroom
reading books writing
sorrows stories of
where you'll be
someday here you
sit alone waiting
to be noticed

Didn't follow a prompt today. Just random.
Ma Cherie Dec 2016

I am not concerned with being relevant,
it is my souls desire to be truly remembered.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Hi poets❤
monica Sep 2016

Do you ever miss me?
Because I always miss you
I'm starting to question everything
I don't know what to do

I can't let anyone in
It feels like I'm letting you win

You don't want me to be happy with someone else
You want me to be miserable by myself

Angelique Apr 2016

Searching for some sort of relevance
Something to tie me down
                    -or lift me up
Something to keep me in motion
                    -out of my emotions
On a path forward
Not back around
To when I was
                Sad and Disillusioned

Have you ever looked into a mirror?
Of course you have, we all have at some point; but have you ever really looked, deep inside?
Like a vortex it will suck you in and you will become committed to picking out each flaw of yourself, as if you were to blow away the delicate petals of a dandelion; one at a time.
Honestly and truthfully, do not lie, we would all like to be cynical and selfish, to love ourselves would be one of the greatest pleasures,
but mirrors;
they are hazardous, distorting our true image until we no longer have anything left to pick out.
Yet we still insist on persecuting ourselves?
Maybe it is we who distort our own image.

I wrote this whilst every so often looking up into a mirror, examining myself and my soul until I was content with this piece of writing.

What a hopeless excuse for a human, you plague my brain like a cancerous disease.
Tarnishing my will to ever trust again.
Your breath is an utter waste, using up oxygen, you still live on unaffected by your wrong-doings.
To want you dead would be too kind, as you deserve nothing bar heartbreak and to never find love, slowly killing your mentality until you yourself become nothing.
You are no longer worthy of a single thought in my clear and beautiful mind.
No more shall your name constrict my vocal cords, restrict my breathing or bring a tear to my eye.
This shall be my last thought of you. My last mention as you are vile and I am happy.
'What a hopeless excuse for a human.'


This is about an ex that did something so pathetic and crude that it deserves to be written about with the most intense of emotion I could possibly permit.

He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine.
Twisting my mind until I become dizzy and disorientated from the confusion.
The web he weaves of contradictions and uncertainties cuts into my soul, with sharp words. Sharp enough to kill someone, or bring them into insanity.
Constant on and off thoughts of "does he want me?" cloud my brain like a song; but I keep going back for more, as he is addictive.

He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine; but my God those eyes, hypnotic, bright.  That smirk, as if he knows he has me wrapped around his finger.
And I am, he feels like home, in the most beautiful of ways.
Warm skinned and cold-hearted, without even a word he keeps me. I am held captive by that gaze, my God those eyes!

He frustrates me.

We all have addictions, you were mine. As much as I'll never admit it to you, you run through my veins and poison my blood.

They say to not smoke past the number on the bottom of the cigarette but I do anyway in hopes of burning your breath out of my lungs, giving myself a new reason to struggle to breathe rather than the thoughts of you.

Tainted like an iron brand your name is imprinted. I scratch at the deepest corners of my mind trying to get rid of it but somehow you're still there.

My lips, memories of yours on them, biting off skin hoping it will take off your old touch.

I have changed the bed sheets more times than I can count but still your presence lingers, sitting on the edge, smirking.

All these thoughts of you and still I know I do not even cross your mind.

I thought you were gone permanently but forever was mistaken for just a moment in time, and here you are again, clouding my mind.

her eyes were heavy,
her lips, sunken,
she couldn’t even pull a smirk.
her body felt cold,
mind distant.
everything felt like work.

she tried so hard to impress,
from the way she talked,
her personality,
even the way she dressed.

but here’s the thing no one knows,
the letters she would write,
the secret codes.

No one picked up how sad she was,
until it was too late,
she was already,
a lot cause.

Next page