Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trigger warningVery disturbing
Dear sir, I write to you at a time when
Bloodshed has become a trending hashtag.
When genocide is another word for good morning.
When a mosquito bite has resulted in a bird flu
and the bird owner has been quarantined.
"The bird should be discarded" you decree.
On its wings it conveyed passion, ideas and businesses.
A confidant, a pillar it has become.
A pillar of support no government parastatal offered.
I write that you reconsider for from my little knowledge, no one can cage a bird.
It is meant for the skies so let it fly.
Yours faithfully, a very lazy youth.

Nigerian government has banned Twitter. I say this with my two hands covering my face in shame. While deaths are occurring thanks to terrorism, all he can think of is banning Twitter because his tweets were deleted.
Spriha Kant Apr 7
Self-love is a zone prohibiting the entrances of painful solitude state and inferiority complex.

© Spriha Kant
Simply put my life is ruled by numbers  
Digits by the dozens in screaming color

People asking how was your SAT, ACT?
Don’t be shy, go on tell us
You better have gotten over a 30
Or a string of numbers 1500 above

The concept of clocks striking six, twelve, perhaps one
Stressing to be early has already begun
Alarms ringing, time frames narrowing, dictating much of my seeing  

Algebra, geometry, chemistry galore
Maths of all sorts are sometimes a bore

The weight of a newborn, hoped to be a seven
A timely occurrence, the baby down from Heaven
A social security number
Rings out like a thunder
While the hospital collects its plunder
Wood burns from blue flames
Air drawn in does change
Prepared for events to unfold
Stationary held for take off
Past the count of numbers out
Breathing easier now
A transient being announced
Green lady elevates state
Orange eyes merge, lights diverge
Lifted into what seems to be
A tunnel of colourful multiple Vs
Pleasant fate when identity dissipates
No pain, no pressures, no claims
Just white space
Until pulled back into this place
To live a life again
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Dante Rocío Dec 2020
Lights or darks
To break a glass,
I’m worth on it and not in the droll,
To depart from the bed in black the one who
Addresses themselves to overtake their self and become in a rave,
Violin string works at ease;
Give me a gulp of the Moon to crash to my side,
to crack in ecstasy of me inside.
I’ve put up enough with walking perfect like the porcelain.
A translation of a spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
Dante Rocío Dec 2020
Lueurs ou sombres
Un verre casser,
J’en vaux et pas en drôle,
Partir du lit noir celui qui
S’adresse à s’envahir et être un délire
Fil de violon travaille à l’aise:
Donnez-moi un coup de la lune pour m’en écraser et m’en crever,
J’en ai marre marcher parfait comme la porcelaine
A spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
Dali Nov 2020
I'm daring to
Barely stand on my own feet
What shoes am I going to wear
Is it blue, red, nor green?
Don't feel the heaviness of my feet
But everything fit immaculately to my verity sheet
Are these really the colors of my being?
They say emotions really fades away
I don't know now
Cause I heard the eternal aura whispers coming through my thoughts
Or is it just my own whispering sound?
Oh God
I can't speak
Nor find the root in me
Water me
I must water me
I want to see the flowers of my soul
I want to feel the existence in me
There's a black sky
But only to feed the earth's feet
A dashed black color in me
Coming through every breath I take while I speak
It feels like the skin has been stripped from my body,
Like I am a raw house unable to contain this feeling.
Sounds are dissonant and salt to the wound.
My synapses are buzzing through every tissue.
I am so whole and yet so incomplete,
Angry, electrified, and scared.
This body of mine does not feel like a habitat.
It is more like a zoo enclosure.
I wonder when people will stop gawking at me
Like I am some caged animal.
I am wild.
I am easily provoked when afraid.
Please do not tap the class.
Please do not feed the animals.
Leave me where the ground cries out in anguish
For the blood of my psyche shed in the tall grass.
I was not made for this.
I am not a performer in some circus, some exotic parade.
They have stripped me of my skin,
And this body does not feel like home anymore.
John McCafferty Nov 2020
Anxiety and excitement are one of the same
Research for an answer to analyse traits
For the loss of another can be someone's gain
A vicious cycle with which to attain
Stressed from such pressures
Soften your edges to lighten your weight
All in a state but we all hesitate
Widen perspective and encompass ourselves
When life skills aren't taught
Are we really at fault or who is to blame
Personal perception distinguishes choice
Critical thought strengthens one's voice
A softer approach is often dismayed
Where are your heroes when you reach of an age
Admiration compels to find your own way
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Don't you know
Am slipping away
My thoughts are numb
I exist
Or am I just existing
Life is a blur .
with most things blotted out
I can't  fight  my way .
Through this  with just a mask.
I need to feel human touch ..
A hand shake .a hug .a smile.
I can't survive .
without connection
I need  to connect .
Socialize for my mental state
I feel deep anguish
Feeling isolation
Cut off
I don't feel the same
God 🙏 where are you
In this awful pandemic
I need to know .
Please raise me some hope
I  am but a human being
Trapped alone in all this despair
Show me  Lord send me a sign .that it will all work out .
Next page