Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I am conscious this time of year is hard
Heart is broken and badly scarred
Joy scarce
Only regret found
Negative thoughts in head spin around
Heavenly sensations sought in vain
Where there was possibility there is now only pain
Swallow mistakes but stick in your throat
Suffocating without antidote
Minutes slip by struggling to breathe air
Poetry is to make you aware
Hiding confrontation will never succeed
This a reminder that life you do need
Ghosts are real walking amongst the living
Dream of getting rather than giving
Who battle demons lying in bed
Propaganda spread throughout their own head
Excuses readily kept at hand
When things do not work out as planned
Drinking despair like alcohol
Until problems seem so small
Under dissection truth discovered
Full well knowing the damage not covered
Give explanation flimsy and weak
In the daylight may as well not speak
Called out on ******* you shift your gaze
At silence I am always amazed
After our history still stare at the sky
Ashamed to tell me the reason why
Honesty makes you seem naked and scared
Vulnerability contained you refuse to share
Manipulation and blame tactics you use
Tools implemented to deceive and abuse
I once was unsuspecting and naive
Dangerous games taught not to believe
But deep down I decide it's because you've been hurt
Past is why you treat others like dirt
Passing heartache painstakingly along
The agony remains
Increasingly strong
The harder I try to **** it the worse it becomes
letha fay Apr 12
walking down the wet pavement,
rain clouds creating more than puddles,

can’t withstand such abasement,
she wishes absence of those troubles

feeling enslavement in her own mind,
the world doesn’t understand her struggles

it’s been a rainy day today
Nicole Mar 30
Hi, how are you holding on?

Are you tired? It’s okay.
Look how far you are now.
You will get there.
Little Mary was a dreamer
A very sweet one of course

Though the chains of reality bound her to a myriad of troubles
In her dreams she was free

She was free to dream of a home
A home decorated with a loving husband and successful children

She was free to dream of grandchildren
Little ones sitting close and listening to her tell stories of old

She was free to dream of one day
The day her afflictions will finally go away

She actually had a lot of dreams
A lot she never had the chance to live

Dream on Little Mary
Dream on
Until we meet again dream on
Your dreams may see reality on the other side
So dream on
J Vital Mar 9
Born without sin,
I am imbued with the mask of humility.
The masks of fate,
gift me its shame and unyielding hold.
For what is man but a puppet,
Who wears masks to fulfill his own desires?
The masks of fate, forever eternal.
The silent skin that scorns our unwitting souls
Lily Mae Feb 22
Trying to force the natural sequence of nature is like slamming your head against a board of nails. Acceptance of who we are in our own divinity,  instead of playing dress up and pretending to be someone we are not.

You can’t wear Prada, drink the richest bourbon, smoke fancy cigars, and do the finest line of ******* and compare yourself to the man.  The boy, mimicking a man.  
You see, he wears Levi’s, smells of cheap whiskey, smokes whatever is free,  and writes about a life that once was, before the pain.  The infallible days of clarity.

You can’t walk a poor mans path, with your rich arrogance.  There isn’t enough money to buy this man’s soul.  His story, unfolds daily and reeks of a heavy burden, lack of that deep intimacy, lack of hope.  Yet, he is rich in character, rich in wisdom, rich in reflection and worth so much more than the shell of a human pretending to be what he never will be.

The man’s book embodies thousands of pages,  well read.  The boys, empty pages of a life never lived.

Carry on…nothing to see here
Jeremy Betts Jan 31
I wouldn't know the feeling associated with being valuable
I know vulnerable, I do know that
I know painful and invisible, dismissible and disposable
I know, "keep your nose outta trouble" hypocritical
I know the day-to-day that tries in every way to keep you face down while you play it off as being humble
It's your mind but can't join the huddle
While any spare time is stolen by the mental struggle
The battle plan is and always was simple,
"Toss more at him than he can handle,"
"More than humanly, no, humanely possible"
It's sad though
Because my recall is abysmal so I don't know
If I've never had my hands on a handle
****** from the get-go
Now just ruins of what was easily let go
By the many that have come before and there'll be more for sure though

thyreez-thy Sep 2023
Every human regrets existence at least once
To the bumbling genius and even the competent dunce
Assuming we live just to meet our demise
Thinking this is hell, humanity must be a disguise
Contemplating a worse case scenario
Like a curse, falling down like a domino
Ripping off hair, skin, even your very own soul
Begetting traits of a meat puppet with no true goals

Yet, even then, we choose to exist
Through tears and fears we choose to exist
When we feel queer, as we smear tears, we we choose to admit
at our lowest point, on our knees we choose to submit

The same emotions that invite us to death are all the same
Those that are frightened by it feel too ashamed
Telling us to jump off a roof, yet dissuading us
bit by bit
Vera Causa and effect, the reason yet the precipice
Our own heart hates us
Yet saves us when we want to dismiss

Maybe it's the birds chirping joyfully
The sound of children ceremoniously
The that of "It'll get better" "It must get better!"
Or that our Death brings a greater regret

Be that as it may, Exist Guilelessly and Free
Sometimes your very constraints are the ones you cannot see
To Be or Not to Be, or answer is yours
To see this life as a blessing, or an arduous Chore
Poem I wrote on what life means to me
leeaaun Jul 2023
he calle me a warrior
just because i lived a life
harder than his

others commented
that's the easiest recipe of being a warrior

and here i am thinking
they have not even lived  through my struggles
neither they've faced my ordeals
nor felt my pain

how they have a right
to just pass words
that will stab like little needles
on my existence

making me stand as a question'
in front of everyone's eyes
where my answers will be treated as invalid
even before i will say them

that's not a warrior in their eyes
but a girl whose moves is out of their calculations
they just see me as nothing
and want me to believe that too

sadly, i am not easily influenced by someone's words
as i had so many problems to learn from
what was best for me
and i would call myself the queen who is skilled
in turning girls like me into an invlaid format
they can't decode
Next page