Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A Dec 2018
What do i do when i feel like i have written the words
That someone else has already spoken
Words that echoed in empty colosseums
Ones that tore out of vocal cords almost too worn to work
Both which feel upon the deaf ears of those who claim to know
But do not listen
Alex Smith Oct 2018
I had a dream of the time
We were born.
We lived beautifully in the city
Of wombs.
We clapped our hands and laughed.
We drank the paint dry
And the colors of the rainbow changed.
We began to be wanted,
To be embraced,
To be loved.
And we became unable to walk alone.

We laughed at each other,
Devoting our love to only toys.
Those untouchable,
Sick and mentally-ill children;
I want to break them with easy words!

The ******* set fire
In a faraway town,
Someone died.
Beckoned by lemmings,
At the end of the world,
We arrived-
But somehow survived
The apocalypse
Of our own design
Armed with weapons of paper and a pen,
Vowing to not let people
Hurt us again.
But none of that saved me
From the disgrace I felt
At the End.
A rewritten version of the literal translation of the song Munou. New lines and stanzas were added.
Jen Grimes Dec 2016
Consider the stars;
Let them illuminate
Your dark.
lady lazarus Nov 2015
a letter came for a dead man today

and i was certain, if i looked down, i'd see a ******, mangled mess beneath me where my heart sputtered and dropped right out of my chest cavity
as  i watched, through a stranger's eyes, the pad of my thumb smear the ink of your name

the serrated p's and t's slicing open the makeshift stitches i used in vain to yank close the gaping hole left by your gravestone

five hundred and eleven sunrises I have seen without you

counting each one like I counted the letters you never wrote me

because I wrote you letters, but they never left the sweaty lines of my palms.

& i wrote you sonnets, couplets, painstaking metaphors like how my heart living inside your hands was like a telescope reaching for moons.

but that's the thing. you left mine unwound, dangling towards the ground and all that my lips held never reached your sky.

all ever i wanted was to make my stars and moons live inside your eyelids.

but my wishes were like flowers left next to tombstones, and you never brought me daisies.

five hundred and eleven mornings I’ve awoken
and found my hands disgusted with the way my body moves beneath me

and it wasn’t until you took your last breath that I started being grateful for mine

I hurt, do you see?

i could write you more than one poem about suffering, as routine as a heartbeat

the things i've done, the mistakes and places and the ways i've lost my pride and grace for the sake of sanity

i've spent too many hours weaving windflowers between my fingertips
hoping the stinging vines stealing circulation will bleed safety
hoping if I say your name enough times it’ll lose its incantation

but you were a magician
and I’ve still got too much pride to admit that I thought I could get rich on the lies you pulled from behind my ears

you told me that you loved me
you told me that you understood me
you told me that you needed me
you told me that you wouldn’t leave me

five hundred and eleven days ago I learned that the things you told me were as worthless as the promise you made to keep breathing

and now I’m second-guessing myself on the corner, begging strangers to tell me i’m worth something more than the words you imprinted on my lips

all this time I’ve spent trying to make the pieces of my shattered self fit together in the same way they did before your eyes became the reason that I opened mine

I don’t care what they say
They can’t tell me I’m wise for my age when I let you redefine the truths of my own existence

But I’ve had 511 days to rewrite this one, and I’ve got enough modesty now to tell you the truth.

when you died, you stole all the ways I ever felt validated
you had my secrets in your pockets, my innocence like an offering on your altar
when you took your own life, you did me a favor

A letter came for you today.

i ripped it up.
this piece incorporates many other parts of poems i have written over the past four years, i performed it recently.
Lizzy Aug 2014
I know it's dark
And I'm scared and alone
I pray and I hope I'm not on my own
Im falling down to my own little hell
Will you please fall with me?
You say I'm an angel tattered and scorned
And at times I wish I was never born
Could you fall with me?
Be by my side every day and night?
I know you can't promise peace
But with you I'll be alright
I'll burn with you
Consume us
May death unburden us
Ease me of my pain
I'm killing the past
These things won't last
I can't change yesterday's pain
But you bring hope of brighter days
I'm falling with you
I rewrote some lyrics he sent me

— The End —