Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shiv Pratap Pal Mar 2019
I Die Daily
Daily I am Born

Life and Death
Both are my Friend

Death is Lovely
Life is Ugly

Death is Cool
Life makes us Fool

Death is inevitable
Life may fail

I like my daily Death
No tension at all

Sleep is my daily death
I enjoy it after all
I Die Daily.  What about YOU?
J B Moore Mar 2019
Call me ugly, call me dumb
Say I’m boring and no fun.
You can say that I’m a mess,
You don’t have to be impressed.
Just tell me that I’m lazy,
You can even say I’m crazy,
‘Cause it may be somewhat true.
But please, whatever you do
Don’t tell me I’m too sweet,
That my company’s a treat.
Don’t say that I’m too nice a guy
That’s not a reason why.
If you’re not interested that’s fine,
Rather stay friends? Well, I don’t mind.
You could let me down easy,
Or you can say I make you queasy,
Just give me a reason, even blame it on fate
Just don’t blame it on one of my positive traits.
We’re all deeply flawed, you can take your pick
Just don’t choose something I don’t need to fix.

3/20/19
claire Mar 2019
my soul is like a basement
you don't see the rats
until they're scared out hiding
but they've been there all along
Aa Harvey Mar 2019
Tasteless


Food is ugly, words are false;
Finish your plate or else!
Starving hungry with eyes that cannot see;
Understand, I just don’t want to eat.


Never been a vegetarian;
Bacon is too good at being the best meat.
Open fridge to a room full of emptiness;
Shelves so full of complete blandness, so complete.


Never needed a witness to confess;
Willingly I show you around my head.
My heart and soul may be connected,
But my brain and stomach are not even friends.
They cannot relate, my empty plate,
Wasting away, happy today in my own way.


Too full of apathy to eat.
I see my reflection staring back at me,
In the microwave machine;
The only place I bother to be.


I catch a glimpse of malnutrition,
But do not worry about me,
Or what I eat; I eat to please.
To please the ones who worry, they are sweet,
But I am still so unhealthy.


I am happy when I weigh less than I should be;
Used to have a better body.
Used to be a better version of me;
Used to be somebody.
Those days are gone forever;
Too far gone to remember gladly.


Working hard to find my six pack;
Afraid those days ain’t coming back.
Give it time and it may be;
Only if it happens will you see my body.
This skin on bones I hide with clothes,
This belly should not be a part of me.
I cannot let you see that I have become so flabby.


Happy being skin near slim,
Not fat like that.
The mirror man has never been perfect,
But if only I could reach what I once had.
Weight a while, break the scales,
Walk in the snow, walking for miles.
Heart, body and soul, no place to go,
Striving for perfect,
But those wishes are too shallow.


(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Sarah Mar 2019
Each morning leaves me gasping for air,
still choking on the blood from last night.
One day, I fear, people will know who I am.

They’ll gaze into my shattered looking glass and recoil!
Scared of what they see.

A broken image of a broken girl-
all that’s left of my broken soul-
then they’ll turn around and leave.

For what’s to love of a devil like me?
I’ll try to care, but I am not tender.
I try to reach your heart, but once in my grasp, I’ll tear it out.

For your sake, I suggest you leave.
Please
let me choke alone.
A Simillacrum Mar 2019
Cystic
Nothing but a cyst
Sloughing skin
Kept within

Cancer
Nothing but cancer
Sloughing skin
End/Begin

Dirt pop
Nothing but a dream
Simple wish,
Spinning disc

Meat pop
Nothing but a dream
Nothing good
Nothing grand

**** me. Rend me.
Pull my soul
Out of my ***

Hold me. Taste me.
Rub my flesh
Dance into death

The apartment lies just on the hill.
Beyond the defunct track, beside
The working track. Tall, pale grass

Pressed under trash. Food bags.
Food bags and drink cups.
Cigarettes, butts, and packs

Watch as the refuse stretches
Just as it is
Sharing light of morning sun

Cystic.
Cancerous.
Refuse.
Detritus.

Watch as the refuse stretches
Just as it is
Paper and/or plastic

Beautiful, isn't it.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2019
My self-esteem I ripped out of this body long ago
Self-respect not long after that
I traded both for a phony veil of joy
To stop feeling the pain of the place I was at

It never outlasted the strength of the ache
Now I own meager scraps and not much else
A heart in disrepair, aura colored black, muted spirit,
Hands sore and ****** from punishing myself

A hole or two would be just fine
But in my chest something's gone dark
A great persistence possesses me to poke
Until my hurt arms are covered in marks

All the way throughout my scarred skeleton
Sorrows lay scattered, sadness strewn about
They invited insecurities in to stay
Now not a single one will get out

Organs uncomfortably crowded by
Irrational fears, worries, and questions
Anxiety multiplies with a million other things
I would really rather not mention

The few shreds of confidence I had
Finally got fed up and fled
Leaving only doubt and shame
Plus negative thoughts echoing in my head

I used to harbor peace inside my marrow
All I feel there now is hurt
Carefree shrugs and smiles departed
Took refuge somewhere buried under dirt

There is not a lot here remaining
Of the person I was before
Better qualities packed up
And exited out the nearest door

These days I'm made of stubborn self-hatred,
Cloudy skin, empty eyes, lifeless hair, no beauty,
Addiction replaced the brightness of my soul with broken bulbs,
Yeah, there's not much here left of me
This one came from a dark place deep in my heart
Next page