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birdy Apr 2022
Sitting in a room alone,
I try to feel.
neo Feb 2022
i can feel the passion slowly fading.
when faced with blank pages, i spew nothing
but empty words and meaningless sentences,
so superficial, overflowing with pretenses.

oh, how i miss the wide-eyed writer I used to be:
the type to pour his whole heart and soul into his stories.
now, i'm stuck chasing the words that were once mine,
stuck wondering if i'll ever get back my shine.
Ellis Dec 2021
Broke as hell
Blue light eyes
Pity be pity see
Pushing till they pull
Color coded notes on fire
Scholar of all that is okayish
Handicapped lockjaw zombie
Swimmers in the styrian river of Dante’s Inferno
A stop sign growing in the middle of the street
Thousand yard letter grade stare
12 missed assignments
Experienced Naivete
Dementia in progress
Last year’s Amnesia
Crossing busy streets
verus Nov 2020
no point in thinking
about right or wrong,
in the end, is it ever up to us?

I wonder about my hopes.
I may have lost them all,
yet I fail to indulge
in the epicurean practice
of abandonment.

no glory, joy, or
gold—if it mattered—awaits me,
it's something its consequence
will hurl a spear
between my blades

and watch me fall to the absence of sea.

but there is hope for the child
that once held my hand
and said “you're kind.”

thus with this spear,
I may take sail
into the abundance of tears.
without a purpose I remain.
Maria Hernandez Oct 2020
I told myself
"I will have a great day"
We tell ourselves things that are so cliche
but makes us feel even more isolate.

Despite the positive affirmations
I felt so unmotivated and everything I did or told myself I will do
made it feel like it was obligated.
m Oct 2020
wake up
its tuesday again
no i don't want to continue watching
i wont brush my teeth this morning
A Poet Sep 2020
these days
i often ask myself
why do I do
Isabella Jul 2020
if a knife goes dull after it's been used too many times,
why does life feel so dull right now.
it's not that i've done everything i could do,
it's not that i'm worn out,
but i've simply lost the childhood spark
that used to gleam in my eyes.
and i'm not sure how to sharpen the useless knife
that is life.
a moment in time, captured by a few poorly written words.
Jennifer Herbert Jun 2020
I sit here every evening
every night
Nothing comes to mind
No muse in sight
I have an ache inside
I can't describe
I type a few lines
Words won't rhyme
Failing each time
The sting inside
A low lit flame
Dwindling down to nothing
Why can't I find
What's burning inside
And type it all out
Confusing doubt
Not even sure what it's about
The words pour down the sink
Draining to never be seen
I'm stuck in between
The chaos unheard
And losing myself
Placing my unfinished words
Back on their shelf
Recently I've felt my passion dwindle.
I love writing, and maybe criticism is too much to ask for. I shouldn't need it. One single word can extinguish the flame I hold. Sadly.
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