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The thought of drinking with them again makes me sick,
I had to wake up and say no.
The killing myself life long misery so quick,
The last bile in me was a blow.
Funny how life works things cared about so strong,
Sooner or later catches up.
Regret and pain knowing who I hurt for so long,
Pouring my life away in cup.
I always asked something selfish of the All High,
Never realising friendship had.
All I ask now is not even to say goodbye,
Thought of losing them makes me sad.
Keep them safe soul from poison God let me go first,
For I know and You know the pain before its worst…
Definitions of Dreams & Things XVI – 16th Poetic Poem 14. Series by Nickolas J. McKee © 2025.
wasnt any reason for me to lie.
the scars and bruises where they lie
why on earth do you doubt
why do you push and shove and shout

selfishly sick is what i be
the trauma fake? oh honestly!
i let it happen
i hurt myself
i do it all
and don't ask for help

i am failing critically
i am sick, selfishly.

i let you laugh
i let you lie
i kiss my "normal" life goodbye.
i let my thoughts
dissipate
let the next person take my place

if i lied for over a year
wouldnt that make the truth everclear?
foggy memories swirling endlessly

we are sick, selfishly

-yjp
a poem about our mother not being able to accept our disorder.
(dx)
Nostalgia Feb 14
The praise of death was a selfish desire.
You know this.
Yet the prayer comes every morning and night.
But, with no avail does your wish come.
So be it,
and let the desire eat you whole.
Vianne Lior Feb 11
I know I’m a disappointment—don’t say I’m not.
You gave me trust, and I let it rot.
I see it in your eyes, even when you smile,
That quiet hurt you’ve been hiding for a while.
You tell me it’s okay, but we both know the truth—
I’m the burden you carry, the bruise beneath the soothe.
I just wanted to make you proud,
but here I am—still failing you.
And in your silence—i fail myself too.
Phoebe Feb 10
I am selfish.
I want you to obsess over me,
to lose yourself in thoughts of me
the way I do with you.
I want you to go mad with infatuation,
to feel this same unbearable conflict
tearing at your mind.
I want to make you jealous,
to wound your heart,
to drive you to sadness and insanity—
because that is how I feel sometimes.
And somehow,
would that satisfy me?
Will it ease my pain?
It’s not right
to want to brand you emotionally,
to leave a mark that never fades.
But there’s something wrong with me.
I guess I’m not a nice person.
I am selfish.
Georgia Jan 31
I hope to god that I go first
Because I wouldn’t know what to do without you
Because the thought of being without you is genuinely too painful
And a lifetime with you simply wouldn’t be enough
So I hope I go first
Because I know you’d be strong for our girls
Because I know that you’d be okay without me until I could see you again
Because I know that you’re a stronger person than me
But then
I hope you’re not far behind
Because you’ve told me you don’t want to be alone
Because I know how much you secretly love affection
Because I know that when the beds empty you get confused as to why I’m not there stealing the quilt or snoring
But if you do go first
Know that
I’d be counting the days until I saw you again
I’d get a dog to keep your side of the bed warm and wake me up with snores
I’d re watch supernatural to fall asleep to re live our memories
And I’d make sure that I’d stay strong for these girls
I know how selfish this feeling is but the thought of loosing you is one I can’t bear
Jenna Nov 2024
People call people who try to end there lives, selfish.
"You should never do that. Think about how many people
who would be affected."

Think about this though.
Kids don't off themselves so they can put others in pain.
They do it because others have put THEM through so much pain.

Don't call me selfish, because I am hurting. I would give someone my heart, I would jump in front of a moving car if you needed saving, If you need a hand, I'll be there.

So no, I'm not selfish. I am tired of picking up other people's messes and then being treated like nothing in the end.
I bought a rabbit from a feed store
He was raised for meat
But I brought him home
And raised him for me
Not to eat but to keep

Part of me thinks that's just as cruel
Poor unwanted, little thing
Just happy to live in my house
He doesn't have the ability to see
How unnatural our friendship is

I didn't save him
But I didn't eat him
So he just exists without purpose
Kind of like me
I think I was also raised for meat
Emery Feine Nov 2024
I tore my flesh off
Ripped off my muscles
To give to you
But when you asked
For my soul
You deemed me selfish
For refusing to let it go
this is my 132nd poem, written on 11/15/24
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