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Reece 5d
You lie awake,
Late at night,
Heart quakes,
And constricts you tight.
You get a text on your phone,
From a friend that you know,
Your feelings of being alone disappear.
They ask you,
“Wanna hang out on Saturday?”
The beginning of your doom,
As your brain goes insane.
You question whether you should go,
Dream up excuses to keep you stuck at home,
Yet, you wonder why you feel so alone,
Nobody’s fault but your own.

It’s the crisis of connection,
Those nasty thoughts in your head,
That make you feel like you’re too boring,
For a meaningful friend,
So you keep the superficial ones,
Those that fade,
In a vain attempt to save you from the pain.

You say you feel alone,
Like no one cares,
Yet when they try,
You let your fears control,
And hold you back,
And you know,
That it’s wrong.
You push them away,
You’ll hurt them first before they deal the final blow to you,
You’ve experienced it before,
And you don’t want to feel that way again.
So you build your walls too high,
Where no one can save you,
Cause you trapped yourself inside.
You hope it’s not too late,
To make a window,
So you can see their faces,
And try to change your fate.

It’s the crisis of connection,
That keeps you standing back,
On the sidelines,
Too afraid to attack.
You assume,
Perhaps you were just meant to be alone,
So you stay home,
With your mental contusions.
You don’t know where to go.
So you just stand alone.

You’re not afraid,
To take the road less traveled,
You never fit in anyway,
So why bother?
Just do what you do,
And see where it takes you,
The road might be lonelier than most,
Just hold onto hope.

Perhaps the crisis of connection,
Won’t seem so severe,
In time.
Perhaps building strength,
And faith,
To make self-corrections,
Is the way,
To cross the finish line.
Perhaps the loneliness,
Is a testament to your strength,
Just don’t give up,
Though it may hurt,
I know,
We will find our way.
The life of an introvert, at least to me.
ema 7d
dear whatevers up there, im currently choking on my own soul in my room whilst thom yorke croons into my ears,
surrounded by paper and **** and all i can think of is the decaying in my bones.
dear whatevers up there, please save me.
im not here, this isnt happening.
everything is piling up and im drowning in myself.
dear whatevers up there, please save me.
i want to shiver and breathe until i reach something new.
dear whatevers up there, please save me.
i want to curl and coil until i reach something old.
dear whatevers up there, please save me.
i want to fade and dilute until its like i never really was.
dear whatevers up there,
please save me.
Lostling Mar 9
Drumming
Drumming
Drumming
Of fingers on my leg
Drowning out your every word; continues berate.
My muscles keep on jumping
Like popcorn on a stove
Or raindrops beating ******* roofs. The tempo only grows.
There’re hornets swarming in me
And humming through my skin
I have to let them out, you see, I cannot keep them in
There’s water in my ears
And fog behind my eyes
Yet you’re still telling me to sit still and listen to your cries
But I am like a toothbrush
The buzzy buzzy kind
The only way to make me stop is switching off my mind.
Believe me when I say that
I’d pause if I knew how
But I can’t, just like how you can’t keep your mouth from running now
Is it so hard to let me fidget in peace???

One very frustrated poem =P
Reece Feb 26
Sometimes it’s best,
To hold one’s tongue,
And take what you can get,
The alternative,
Is often worse.
Listen to their screams,
Their complaints,
As they say,
You’re the villain,
The hypocrite,
The one in the wrong.
Ignore the voices,
In your head,
That wonder if they’re right.
Sometimes it’s just best,
To tolerate insolence,
Rather than risk,
Corruption.
This one is more addressed to those awkward situations where you want to give your two sense on something, but you don't. I've been in that position too many times.
Reece Feb 26
This year, lunchtime seems to drag on,
When previously, before I knew it, it was gone.
What has changed?
It isn’t time.
It’s the sorrowful realization,
That friends can fade,
Just like the rain,
Before you know it,
Gone.
The silence,
Deafening,
The consequences,
Terminal,
I’ll never be the same.
I'm going to experiment with some shorter poems as an exercise in concise messaging. I hope they still make sense and have themes.
Maryann I Feb 20
I never thought the words would stick,
Not in my throat, not in my skin,
But here they are, burning like a wick,
The lies they told, the shape I’m in.

I hear them now, when I close my eyes,
My mother’s voice, sharp and cold,
Telling me that I’m not enough,
That I’ll never be worth the love I’m sold.

“Mary, you’re a disappointment,”
The words hit like a slap in the face.
Every failure is a mark she leaves,
Every tear is a slap to my grace.

She says it’s my fault,
I’m the one who makes her break,
But how do I fix what’s broken,
When I don’t even know where to start or take?

Her last words haunt me in the night,
Telling me I’m wrong, telling me I fight,
Telling me my worth is nothing,
That I’m just a ghost in a family that’s done with loving.
Her last words, sharp as knives,
Cut through the quiet of my fragile life.

She’s always angry, always mad,
Never sees what’s behind the sad.
I’m just a face she can’t embrace,
A reflection of everything she can’t erase.

She tells me I’ll never be enough,
My nose too big, my heart too soft.
She tells me I’ll end up like them,
The ones who couldn’t make it,
Couldn’t win.

She says it so casually,
As though the pain doesn’t stick.
As though she doesn’t see my tears,
As though her words won’t break me quick.

Her last words echo in my chest,
Telling me I’m nothing,
Telling me I’ll never be my best.
Her last words, like a whispered prayer,
Begging me to break, but I’ll never be there.

And every time I try to stand tall,
She pushes me back down again,
Says I’m a failure, says I’ll fall,
And that I’m no better than my biological kin.

But somewhere inside, I still fight,
I still hope that one day I’ll rise,
Even if she can’t see my light,
Even if she only sees the lies.


She yells at Y, tells her the same,
That we’re the problem, that we’re to blame.
She says it’s our fault she feels this way,
But it’s her rage that never fades.
It’s her fear that’s running wild,
Turning her into a broken child.

And every time she calls me out,
I think of what could’ve been,
If love didn’t come with rules and doubt,
If we were just a family, not a war within.

Her last words are the truth I can’t escape,
They’re carved into my skin, into my fate.
Her last words, heavy like stone,
Reminding me that I’m always alone.

And when my breath finally fades away,
It’ll be her words that seal my end.
Not the love I longed for, but the lies she said,
Will be the silence where my heart bends.

The world won’t miss me, they’ll forget my name,
Just another girl lost in a family’s shame.
I’ll be just a shadow, fading fast,
A memory of love that never lasts.

Her last words will haunt me still,
As my body grows cold, my spirit still.
In the end, I’ll finally be free,
From the weight of her love, from what’s left of me.
This poem is inspired by the song Her Last Words by Courtney Parker. I’ve taken elements of the song and shaped them into a poem, capturing the emotions of venting and vulnerability. This piece is a vent—a raw expression of my thoughts—but it doesn’t define me. I am stronger than these moments, stronger than the pain.

Hello Poetry is a space where I can be real, where I can let my thoughts spill out without judgment. These words do not mark the end of me but are part of my process of healing and release. While this poem reflects some of my darker thoughts, it is just one part of my journey, not the whole of who I am.
inkedsolace Jan 14
_
gasp,

gaps,

my memory,

why is everything so fuzzy,

disoriented,

my vision...

tell me,

tell me now,

TELL ME-

TELL ME NOW-

WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME-

why won't you tell me what happened?

what happened...

what...

you.

YOU.

no...

no. no.

no.no.nononononoon....

NO.

this wasn't supposed to be,

this way.

WHY?

-WHY ME?
i feel too much right now
Reece Nov 2024
Reece means enthusiasm,
Enthusiasm I rarely feel.
When it comes to most things,
The emotion is fear.
I wonder if it is a coincidence,
Why, I am named this name.
Or if there’s a reason,
Why, I think this way.
For something to entice me,
It better be something really good.
Most things that look like
Fun I don’t like to do
And I get misunderstood.
Sports sounds just awful,
Something I wouldn’t enjoy
I’m not much of a competitor,
They are just a lot of noise.
I don’t say what’s on my mind,
As often as I should, for
Fear of being misunderstood.
But writing, oh writing,
It’s easier to put down
What I think, Me,
Reece Ellison, the anxious
Boy with a world inside his head.
Huh, I guess there is some
Enthusiasm hidden deep down
After all…
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2024
I hear your hollow compliment,
no gilded chains will bind me, see?  
Respect my strength;
Please, don’t patronise me.

©️Lizzie Bevis
When someone tells you that your poem is good, but it is a waste of time writing poetry…so rude!
Again, a venting piece, apologies!!
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