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Charmour Jun 1
Why can't they just shut up—
for once—
and listen?

Why am I always the one
expected to hear,
to nod,
to stay quiet,
when they don’t even see
what I’m going through?

Why can’t they ask
what I feel like—
just once?

Why can’t they think about me
for once?
Why can’t they see
I’m dying a little
every day?

Every time I try to speak,
they brush it off
like it’s nothing—
like I’m nothing.

And it makes me feel like ****.
Makes me scared
to open my mouth again.
Makes me regret
ever opening up at all.

Because the truth is—
they never listened.
They never heard me.
They never even tried.

And it’s because
they don't gave a **** about me.
Maybe they never did.
Why can't they just listen to me ...??
I don’t get it—
how people run to their parents
when life gets hard.
How they’re met with open arms,
soft voices, safety.

I used to dream of that.
Of running to mine,
of hiding behind them like a child—
because I was a child.

I wanted to cry in their arms,
to fall apart
and be held together.
But I never could.

There was no softness there.
No arms to catch me,
only the weight of silence,
the sharp edge of being too much.

So I ran.
Not toward them,
but away—
as far as I could
just to find peace.
why couldn't i run to them??
Ankush Jun 13
You came into my life
(If it was a dream),

I was so happy —
Now that I had someone,
(Indeed, it was a dream).

I thought, at least I deserve love now,
But you told me to wait.
You told me to put all my sadness
Back into my mouth, chew it,
And embrace.

You made me promise to never cry over you —
But
What about the things I was already holding?
Do I have to cry over them again,
Like I used to?

Maybe...
Maybe it was too much —
To feel joy
Just from the idea
Of sharing my sadness with you,
Which I never got the chance to do.

Who?
Me? That's who I’m supposed to depend on?
I’ve already tried that.

You told me to wait,
And I will.
But who do I confide in?
Poetry?

...That’s what I thought of.
Charmour Jun 3
How can I hate them,
when they taught me how to love
But never loved me.

How can I hate them,
when they taught me how to care
But never cared about me.

How can I hate them,
when they taught me to live
But never cared if i died.

How can I hate them,
when they taught me to speak
But never spoke with me.

How can I hate them,
when they taught me how to shout for help
But shushed me when I tried to scream.

How can I hate them,
I don't now—
I just started to hate myself..
I don't hate them now..
Ander Stone May 31
I look across the street
at the woman walking by.

Her slender form
in bright reds dressed,
a beating crimson heart
against the exsanguinated grey
of dry asphalt.

I look across the street
and dare not move.

Because my mother
raised me undeserving
of the time of someone
whom bleeds life into
an exsanguinated day.

I look across the street
and nothing more.

As my father taught me
to live unremarkable
and let all songbids
fade away from memory...

I could not walk with her.

I lay here
on ashen asphalt
and wait for the red
to bleed out of sight.

I look across the street
and exsanguinate
any hope of lasting love.
add a little bit of salt to the exsanguination
Everly Rush May 27
I stopped naming days a while ago—
they blur like raindrops on a cracked lens.
Everything feels like an echo
of a moment that never begins.

I’m not living — I’m leftover.
A half-thought someone left behind.
Just a whisper under locked doors,
a glitch they pretend not to find.

My mirror forgets my face now.
It fogs up, refuses to see.
I trace a smile in the steam,
then wipe it off carefully.

My body’s a punishment I wake up in,
every curve a curse, every breath a dare.
They say “You’ll grow into yourself,”
but I’m scared of what’s even there.

My bedroom light flickers like it pities me.
I don’t turn it off—it feels like a friend.
Sometimes I stare at the ceiling
and wonder when all this will end.

School is a stage I perform at.
My backpack holds more secrets than books.
Teachers read me like I’m blank paper,
like I’m nothing more than looks.

I speak less every week.
Even the silence feels bored of me.
I try to write myself into poems,
but the paper just stares blankly.

I write suicide notes in my head
like lullabies when I can’t sleep.
I imagine a world without me
and it doesn’t even weep.  

No one knocks on my door anymore.
They say I’m “just going through a phase.”
But I’m not going anywhere—
just sinking in quieter ways.

I think the stars forgot my name.
I don’t even wish on them now.
What’s the point in asking for light
when you’ve never been shown how?

I keep my razor in a pencil case—
It makes more sense that way.
At least it writes something real
when my words won’t stay.

Tell me—what’s worse:
To scream and be silenced,
or to whisper your last goodbye
and still be unseen in the silence?

I don’t want a grave or flowers.
Just maybe a song without my name.
Let me go like a breath you didn’t mean—
quick, quiet, forgotten.
No blame.
23:58pm / I should be sleeping but I can’t sleep.
Charmour May 24
I crave for their affection
I crave for their love
I crave for their appreciation
I crave for them to love me back
I crave for them to be there for me
I crave for there to notice me
I crave for them to listen to me
I crave for their time
I crave for them to stop comparing me with my brother
I crave for the things i know I'll never get
To atleast be happy with me
But it's not gonna happen
I know it won't
I want them to love me back....
Charmour May 21
How can they  pretend like nothing happened...
Like they never said they regret giving birth to me
Like it never happened
But im crying every night
Till I can't breath
Cursing my existence
Blaming myself for everything
How do I tell them
Their words are killing me every second
How do I tell me
I force a stupid smile ever time I'm abt to cry
How do I tell them
They destroyed me in every possible way
Charmour May 21
But never noticed me crying
Never noticed my hands trembling
Never noticed me getting distant from them
Never noticed i tried to **** myself
Never noticed I had no friends
Never noticed the things I like
Never noticed I needed their love
Never noticed my unsteady breathes
Never noticed my voice trembling
Never noticed my tear stained eyes
Never noticed my body flinch at shouts
Never noticed my efforts to love them
And they say they care....
They don't care......do they?
Lord Aconite Apr 8
I,
The unwanted created by a jealous insecure baby
For an insignificant purpose of eternal gratification

I, the unwanted
Created to want and need
Neither of which I have no control over

I’m the unwanted,
Casted and ignore
Forever invisible

I’m the unwanted,
All I want is love and comfort

I,
The wanted
I find the concept scary and unpredictable

I’m the wanted,
I fear everyday would be the last

I,
The runaway
Why?

I’m the unwanted
Forever a ****** of this concept
_______
The
Nihilist
My First Poem, Hello
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