Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Vhey Casison Mar 2017
I am sorry if I'm just a mediocre
for not being good enough
in everything
I am sorry if all I could do is whine
crying out like a swine
how imperfect the world can be
I am sorry if I'm not beautiful
if I'm not friendly
if I'm messy, stupid,
insolent, sensitive, and grumpy
I am sorry for being so quiet
that it makes the air awkward
for being a sickly *******
or when I sometimes talk a lot
as if I know everything
I'm sorry if I sometimes feel special
like a protagonist of some story
looking at everyone with scornful eyes
for being so disgustingly melodramatic
for always making excuses
for piling lies on top of lies, on top of lies
or for not even trying
to make these ****** words rhyme
I am sorry for being so hard to like
let alone, to love
and if I ever made you frown
of any of the above
or simply of my existence
know that I am deeply,
truly, and terribly sorry.
Ella Gwen Dec 2016
I let the water seep into my skin
lying on the balcony in the mist,
head down, searching for the sky.

I won't tell you I did this
you would only say I was insane.

He won't be back at 9, like he said,
or at 10, at 11 or 12,

what is here
to come back for.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2016
you take
refuge in your flight

on your pinions
you gracefully
adorn the

while i?
i lie tethering
my ankles to the


(C) 6/21/2016
I wish I could get out of this funk. I'm My Own Worst Enemy quite often. I believe self-pity to be the greatest hindrance to spirituality there is.

I am such a ****** man
Learned it through growing up
I write particularly about much of nothing
My heart cries out that one day I will succeed in my dream

I know I am stubborn about love
But I have to love myself to give it away
I am prone to write about the ugliness of life
So much tragedy we all see daily

I am not fond of the road I have chosen
It seem like one wrong turn will do me in
If only I could be as strong as others I see
The ones who I admire that look at darkness and only laugh

These are the ones I would like to be like
They fill my heart with joy and they don't even know it
They put pen to paper and write an awesome poem I can only wish to write
I read these words from them and I can only feel better about myself and my day

Not so when you read one of mine
Darkness clouds my mind
I even give it a try
But am lost for words in these darken eyes

I write about death and pain
I talk **** about love and how chaos has ruined my day
If only I could write like my heroes
Then and only then I would be at a place where I would know

Things aren't that way in this perspective of mine
Beauty is all around me but I look at the garbage cans
I stare up at the sky and wish a storm to pass by
Maybe a bolt of lightning would electrocute me

One could only hope for things to go right
But here I sit not doing much of anything with my time
It's difficult to find my sanity with the way I feel
Wondering if it isn't just a dream and not much is real
Luisa C May 2016
The closet in the dim isolated room
Stores away so many of my bones
That store too many secrets for the
Weak hearted,
So each week I’m parted from demons
That are a part of too much of me.

But I can never see the difference, my two sides won’t show it.
It does so little to comfort me; what have I become?
Am I the walking dead and a watcher of the funeral of my smiles,
Whose continuous lives and illness discomfort and confuse all?
Am I fast asleep when dreams of a peaceful life take over?
Because I awake to find that I’m too stripped back and empty to find anything to give,
A signal I care, or knowing something has shifted
A tectonic plate in my brain,
Erupting the series of footsteps to the door
Of the insane, knocking furiously enough to break it.

The desperate pull of the veil over my mind
Disguises it as curtains for a show, a grand act.
I am the star of the leading role, too centred, too vain,
Perfect to match the unmatched mess I feel every day.
The genius illusion is that am I really acting?
Even I do not know.
The stage is my war zone; no man’s land,
Because I am obviously not human,
And I cannot let anyone else in.
It's bad comedy of a pathetic attempt at drama
For anyone willing to tolerate my oh so called woes.
I choke on the mixture of laughter and tears
I collect in a cracking overflowing jar and drink,
Getting intoxicated on my pity, and hazy on the self-mocking,
Gurgling manipulations of sharing the side dish
But also shoving away any takers.
I am greedy - I want it all to myself.

And to myself it shall remain.
I buy all the tickets and keep them to remind myself
How my dim isolated room shrinks with each entry,
How I refuse to give out any more keys.
Maybe the walking dead is what I am;
Surely life is not this lightless when it is lived.
At least I hope not.
Ella Gwen May 2016
Gravity rips raindrops from
the sky to the earth of my face,
as your fingertips violate the soft
skin of each cheek I offer.

You tell me, I make you so happy,
as salt flows viscous in the pitch
of our bedroom and I say nothing
and you say, nothing much, either.

I bring colour to a life you have never led
and I punish you for it with my silence
and my soft steps and my one single smile,
bequeathed so very grudgingly.

You try, it's true, but I am too far gone now,
too lost in her eyes as she looks at this
shadow of you that I have readily created,
this masochistic need to hurt myself.

I love you; it's times like these I know it
best, the times when I am so insubstantial
that I cannot even bring myself to speak
words I am bleeding to scream at you.

What sick love is this?
When the only time I am sure of it,
is when I feel so very very very
unsteady in your palm.

The night slinks away, with the full force
of sunlight unrefined burning
through slotted blinds.

So ends the the first time I have slept with
someone whilst tears leak from my eyes,
and I cannot say I will ever do it again.
Tyler Casey Mar 2016
Twenty-one years of what exactly was I taught? I believed you two to be super heroes, or so I thought. Turned seventeen realized life's nothing but a thought.
I'm thinking I'm alive, but really I'm not.
I saw past materialism, chose to sin.
Now I hope I can be forgiven, look into the mirror I'm afraid of my reflection.
I'm not who I was.
I'm not where I am.
I don't know who I am.
I can't find where to stand.
     Miss the days when blankets were stronger than Fort Knox, and money had one meaning: to buy train stations, and  the chances we took were cards in a box and we didn't use our cars to hotbox but we matched a lot.
While momma was tryin' to teach me don't monopolize the TV that's just greedy. Noweverydaygoesbyspeedy and I don't have an effort to make myself peace treaties stuck in my self pity, wallowing like a wallaby with abstract gynecology Twitter-less no one follows me I hate my top eight. I've ruined the recipe but I still eat this teaming plate so I'm just left with a bitter taste.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
I fear if I start crying
I will not be able to stop.
I know this is the bottom
(But,) I don’t remember the top.
I’m just feeling sorry
For the self I am now.
I want to change for the better
But I don’t really know how.

I looked into my crystal ball
And didn’t see a thing.
No future, only the past
And it was not a good thing
It wasn’t supposed to be like this
When I started on this highway.
It hurts my feeling to know that
It’s because I did things my way.

I’m just feeling sorry
For the self I am now.
I want to change for the better
But I don’t really know how.

I have no one else to blame but me
For the decisions I have made.
If I had to score success so far
I’d give myself a failing grade.
If I could just convince myself
To do something I’d be fine.
But so far all I have managed to do
Is sit around the place and whine.

I fear if I start crying
I will not be able to stop.
I know this is the bottom
(But,) I don’t remember the top.
I’m just feeling sorry
For the self I am now.
I want to change for the better
But I don’t really know how.
Kristina Jul 2015
It's like a ringing in my ear.

I'm stupid

Ringing through my ear and
Silence is a choking cough pushing to get out.
I need the drumming electronic waves
to deathen my body.

For I took my regular pill of
Self pity today.
It kicks in with its usual velocity
and I lay down mesmerized by its tranformation of the world.

I fear that when I open my eyes
He is not the same.
That his too rough strokes pulling my hair and
His semi sweaty hand on my face
that smells a hint of balony
is all just
Make belief.

How many times was fantasy a
Maybe it finally consumed my reality
Since this must be some kind of
This life of misery
With somebody here with me.
Next page