Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zoë B Nov 2016
Bully

Sometimes while I'm in class I start to wonder why people are who they are. There's a guy who stands out the most to me. He is that person that everyone knows, the one that makes fun of you, who makes tears fall out of your eyes, but who seems like he is broken on the inside... his smirk screams pain... his fake laugh says help me... and the insults he tells you feel like they are meant for him...
Once you meet someone like him, there is no going back.
Once you meet someone like him, you don’t want anyone else.
You want the fire that burns in his soul
And the adventure that stirs in his heart.
You want the passion that he has for seeing the world
And the grace he has toward nature…
You want that silly laugh of his
And his calm, brown eyes to look into yours just one more time
And show his love for you
Without even saying it.
Someone like him isn’t someone you can just let out of your grasp
Without a fight.
But I’ve fought, I’ve fought so hard…
And maybe it’s time for me to just force my grasp open and let it go.
Maybe it’s time for me to let someone fight for me.
Sourodeep May 2020
A suit behind the door
a mask in front of the mirror
turns frowns into smile's galore
sweet smell of the devil's horror

A tight buttoned cuff
a neat knotted tie
polished words are so tough
that truth is worse than the lie

A pair of shiny boots
a clean shaven face
civilization cut off from its roots
devils are now applauded with grace.
Professionalism is the necessary evil
its protagonists turned into devils.

Laugh you idiot !
Sarah Caitlyn Sep 2016
it's the end of a less than
five minute conversation
some mumbled
excuse about exams
and a sighed okay
don't speak your mind
you know the repercussions
then that dreaded question
"are you mad"
at you?
no.
at myself?
maybe
at whatever being is
somewhere in
the universe?
I don't know.
But not you.
no, it's never you.
yeah, I know it *****
Dare Aug 2016
Break open the top of that razor you bought for your legs to reveal the four little blades you will soon use as weapons against your wrist. Take one, two, three more sleeping pills than recommended. Take that lighter that once was used to light the candles in your room and place it on your skin leaving burns behind. Use those hands you hugged your mother with to punch black and blue marks onto your knees. Go to the store with the money you were supposed to spend on lunch that day and spend it on as many cigarettes as your lungs will allow and then some. Crack open that money jar and go buy the strongest alcohol you can afford and even if it stings drink it down to the last drop. Take your body away from helping fill the sandbags and throw it into the current. Take the space in your emergency suitcase full of clothes and pictures and force in letters from her in their place. It doesn't matter if you write words into your skin with that blade or if you love someone that doesn't love you, they're all the same. Self harm.
You're my blade and I can't put you down. How sick is it that I still need you? That I packed your shirt before mine knowing it wouldn't fit me, but it still smells like you so how could I let it drown along with my house in this flood?
Caitlyn Emilie Aug 2016
Your voice shattered and shook me, tore my trust in two, and destroyed the life I thought I had knew.

The smoke from your cigarettes penetrated my lungs, soiled my skin, and instilled disgust.

I fell like ashes at your feet while the words you said to me filled my brain and my heart.

Your skin once home to a person I used to love, now disguising a man I can no longer trust.

Hiding behind your lack of values and bad decisions, blaming me for everything you never did.

I will not be knocked down or discouraged and I will not fight this war you have started.

We may share the same blood, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be you.
something personal. I have a part 1 of this poem that I have already posted, this is part 2..
Brianna Jun 2016
Lying awake with my head on the opposite end of my bed trying to figure out what's up and what's down.
I've lost control again and I'm starting to think maybe I'm the guard and the prisoner.

They keep telling me you cannot hit lower than rock bottom and yet here I stand a little to close to the core of the earth.
Sweat dripping down my face and my eyes heavy with stress as I head straight into the magma and lava that awaits below me.

No one told me growing up would be this hard. That you would find yourself in sticky situations with money and love.
No one told me that sometimes you have to discipline yourself enough that you're stable and yet find the balance between work and play.

Tossing and turning my stomach is queasy and my head is throbbing from lack of sleep as I stare at the black ceiling above me.
Is there a way out of the darkness or should I hope that someday the answers will flicker on like a broken light bulb needing to be replaced?

No one told me growing up would be this hard.
Ana S Jun 2016
*******!
Told me to trust you.
Told me you loved me.
You lied to me.
God I really loved you.
This is why I don't love!!!
This is why I hate people.
*******.
Go **** your tall stupid *****.
Stupid ******* trust.
Always comes back and stabs you.
You were everything.
**** this.
I'm dead inside.
You just killed me more.
Next page