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I drag this weight,
 each step a crime against the ground.

Am I a ghost,

too solid to slip away,

or an animal,
 broken, bent,
 flesh tight with the burden of living?

I cannot call myself human—

humans ache with love,

but I am jagged,
 a wound that won't heal.

Too wild to tame,

too hollow to be held.

Time to vanish—

to dissolve into night,

my absence felt by none.
You must be drunk or high
If you think that you're the guy
Who's going to change this world
With a poetry supply. So why even try?
A couple of sly rhymes and a clever word
scheme won't mean a thing when you die.

So, throw that to the side
and allow me to guide you. Back to the carousel,
Go ahead, take a ride. Those feelings will subside
Once I've got you back inside. You might as well have fun
'cause you can run, but you can't hide.

There's not a single space
Where I can't find your face
And when you try to elevate,
I'll put you right back in your place
So don't make the mistake
Of trying to take a leap of faith
Cause we'll be here again
But, by then, it's too late

You'll wind up a disgrace
And make your poor mom sob.
You'll lose that one shot at that cozy office job.
You'll still feel alone, and you'll still feel worthless
And all this disturbance because you think
you have a purpose? All this to be a servant
for people who don't want service?

You must be **** determined
to make a fool of yourself, but don't worry
It's all cool; that's why I'm here to help
So, just follow my directions and stay
the planned route 'cause you'll get chopped down
If you try to stand out, and your words don't matter
So just shut your **** mouth!

...Listen to my voice, and this will all pan out.
C'mon, have I ever let you down?
You know who I am. I am doubt.
TheJhondelion Dec 2024
How would I know I’m not a heavy-weight,
A burden those I love could start to hate?
Each word I speak feels like a sharpened stone,
Thrown into hearts that ache, yet not my own.

How can I be sure their light stays intact,
Unstained by shadows that my soul attracts?
What if my truths are daggers they can’t bear,
And I leave scars in places unaware?

How would I know their kindness doesn’t fade,
Eroded by the cost of love they’ve paid?
What if my pain becomes the thing they fear,
A haunting voice that whispers when I’m near?

How can I trust they’d hold their steady ground,
When I pull them to where I can’t be found?
What if my sorrow seeps into their core,
And they’re not who they were, not anymore?

What if I speak, and silence fills the air,
A proof their patience vanished unaware?
Do they resent the weight my words impose,
Or wish I’d keep my sadness undisclosed?

How would I know they won’t begin to flee,
Escaping from the heaviness of me?
What if their love gives out beneath the strain,
And all I’ve left are echoes of my pain?

I’m torn between the need to reach and hide,
Unsure if they can stand what’s locked inside.
Am I a poison slowly spreading through,
Or just a soul too lost to find the truth?

That’s why I think it’s better left this way,
Alone with all the words I’ll never say.
To die with silence wrapped around my chest,
And free them from the weight of my unrest.
This poem is hauntingly beautiful and raw, perfectly capturing the torment of being trapped within oneself. The relentless questioning and fear of being a burden resonate deeply, making it an evocative piece that speaks to the silent battles many endure. Your vulnerability shines powerfully here, and it’s truly moving. 🌌
Luca Scarrott Oct 2024
Tripping over myself, bleeding myself out
trying to confine myself
to the confines of your categories, the cages
that barricade us in. I have rapidly outgrown them and
now they splinter skin.
When should I begin to cry out?
I have seen others leave it too late —
their bodies impaled by cold, hard metal
their organs pooling on the floor, their hearts’ still beat
once, twice,
they stop.
Is it possible to shrink? tweezer out the splinters
before I am spilt
pull out my own bones until I fit.
Hypocritical to myself I encourage the cries of relief
as the brave ones
break free —
Will I be consumed? Or will I break
out
sometimes the pressures of fitting into the categories that society tries to shove us into can get overwhelming whether that's: cliques in the school setting, family expectations, gender roles, racial stereotypes, sexuality stereotypes, even the trivial desires to fit a specific aesthetic. We are categorized in a multitude of different ways, and I often struggle to see where I fit in, who am I within and without these categories? Do they (the categories) help or hinder us? This poem is about the latter, the dangers of categories, stereotypes, and expectations that mold our existence.
Andrea Oct 2024
Did you know
the girl I see
every night
every day
every second I live
is never the same?

Did you know
she walks like me
she talks like me
but it cannot be me

I have no reflection

I’ve never seen it
felt it
looked at it
touched it
nor spoken to it

So girl, yes you
You who mock me
You who ridicule me
You who see me
Did you know we are not one and the same?

Did you know
I moved on
And yet you
drifted
And became a monster?

Did you know
because
I wouldn’t have
if not for
Your lurking presence.
Taunting me
Crying for me

Did you know
Despite your shouts
Despite your fear
I cannot be you?
How can I
When you didn’t know
You were real
And I was not.
goldie quartz Sep 2024
sometimes i wonder if i‘m just another someone
stepping into another someone’s footprints
a placeholder for a someone you can‘t let go
even though the years have passed
and the people have too

i compare myself to a someone who is worthy
of poetry,
of words so beautiful and soft,
i can‘t fathom you thinking them about another someone,
me

it is not about that, i want to deny
speaking the lie so softly to myself
because i keep wondering if you think about me
the way you think about her
if i‘m worthy of colorful words and shiny metaphors
or if i‘m just another someone
who‘s stepping into another someone’s footprints
if worlds we spun and lives we lived aren‘t enough
compared to the someone who got away

i keep wondering if you think about me
the way you think about her
if i‘ll forever just be someone who isn‘t her,
who‘s just enough,
just isn‘t her

a placeholder

i wonder if one day
a someone will return to you
and i wonder if that day
my passing will leave footprints too
Antonia Sep 2024
Half of me
has given up
and the other half
hasn’t even started yet
it’s always been like this
myself vs. myself

the battle of two stubborn selves

they take turn
in winning fights
I’m so confused and tired
to root for both
each time

It’s a twisted game.

I play myself.
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