Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zane Smith Jul 2022
how to tell my parents
how much I've been hurting
I don't want them to feel responsible for my brain
being ill
i don't want to scare them
i don't want them to worry about me
i don't want them to be upset with me for not
talking to them about why i'm always crying
i don't know how to explain to them what i feel
because if i tell anyone fully what goes on in my
brain i will actually be all alone, even though it
already feels like i am.
10/18/2020 10:08PM
What do you do?
What do you do when you’ve exhausted every other option?
When it finally sinks in that no one will ever love you as much as you love them?
When no other feeling is real.
And pain starts to feel comforting.
What now?
Please.
What can I do?
You’re sand slipping through my fingers.
You do it on purpose.
All of you.
You’re all oceans,
And I’m a cliffside.
Breaking off pieces of me every time it storms.
It’s always brighter when I’m getting darker.
I’m eclipsing.
You’re just seeing glimpses of light peaking from my shadow.
I can’t see you anymore.
And you can only look at me through tinted glasses.
If it was the other way, everything would be different.
I would look at you till my eyes burned out.
I would destroy myself to make sure you’re the only thing I’d ever see.
A vision permanently etched in.
I wish someone could love me that much.
Just when I thought I had nothing left, I lost more.
So, what do you do?
What do you do when you’ve exhausted every other option?
When it finally sinks in that no one will ever love you as much as you love them?
When no other feeling is real.
And pain starts to feel comforting.
What now?
Please.
What can I do?
birdy May 2022
my life has started whirling
down a sink of self doubt
I question everything I love
because my perfect life
has started to crack
revealing all the aches
I had tried to cover
Nexus Apr 2022
I feel so alone like I'm trapped in my home.
and these thoughts in my head tell me I ought a be dead.
I ******* **** at this ****.
"No you don't you're just tired."
"Everyone loves you, cant you see you're admired?"

But I don't believe what I conceive in my dreams.
So you must be a liar.
This isn't how things in this life should have been.
My soul is on fire.
This isn't how things in this life could have been.
My soul is on fire.
But I don't believe what I perceive in front of me.

Sands of time made from liquid-solid-matter.
People flowing like atoms recycling motions.
I know in my mind that things don't really matter.
Climbing the planet and mapping the oceans.
I would loose my mind if my brain got any fatter.
People flowing like atoms recycling motions.
Struggling to be social.
louella Apr 2022
breakfast in bed and perfume lingering in the stuffy air
stiff bones, the smell of bacon traveling into my bedroom
the hoarse lungs of his gagging and coughing in the other room
slamming bottles down in the kitchen, mumbling to himself
tears might be trapped inside his eyeballs, but he flicks them off before they spill down his regretful face
i lay in the half made/half messy bedsheets, almost motionless, sunken into the duvet
piles of vintage clothes laid all over the carpet, distraught and in a panic
my breathing slowed by the adrenaline rush of last night, heart beat skipping
he stumbles and grips the doorframe tightly, observing if i am asleep or not
my eyes pulled shut, tight as an opening to a safe, trying to calm my breathing in fits of trepidation
his hands—cold and clammy—graze my arms and he sets the tray down roughly
“eat,” he demands
i leap out of my pretend slumber, panting in worry, but too exhausted to fight it

so i eat.
I thought I captured emotion really well in this poem so cheers I guess (I really sounded English there)

4/3/22
GaryFairy Mar 2022
He said he loves scary ****, so I took out a 7 inch buck knife, made in 1972, and I grabbed his wife by the scruff of her neck. I slowly cut his wife's throat from one ear, to the other. The sounds echoed in the modest home, and her blood sprayed all over his scared face. He died of a heart attack within minutes. At least he died doing something he loves...being scared...sorry he couldn't enjoy it longer
100% ****** uh oh better get geico
Eve K Mar 2022
It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.

I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.

Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.

I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.

I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.

I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.

I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.

The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.

I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.

That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.

I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.

I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.
JeanT Mar 2022
I hear the screams of profanity in your drunk voice from that night

The beating of your fist against the truck window

My own voice pleading for help

The faint sound of blood dripping onto the hardwood floor from your knuckles

And yet, all you hear is silence

It’s not the Silent Treatment

The tears in my eyes are screaming so loud

But you just can’t hear me
I  didn’t think I would ever be in this situation
neo Feb 2022
i can feel the passion slowly fading.
when faced with blank pages, i spew nothing
but empty words and meaningless sentences,
so superficial, overflowing with pretenses.

oh, how i miss the wide-eyed writer I used to be:
the type to pour his whole heart and soul into his stories.
now, i'm stuck chasing the words that were once mine,
stuck wondering if i'll ever get back my shine.
Next page