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Hunter Feb 4
A sudden burst of sound jolts me from sleep,
I am now awake and listening closely,
my room is dark and the streetlights outside are all burnt out,
car doors close and someone swears outside my door.

The home alarm beeps and I know mother is home,
and through muffled voices I hear her and my stepfather,
I poke my head out my door and can see her defensive stance,
she is ready to explain her late arrival,
dressed in nice clothes and her hair still groomed,
a stark contrast again her grimey boyfriend with stains down his front.

It is the same as usual,
an argument about the workload divide in this house,
mother is crying and her lover is screaming,
and neither consider the children watching.

A turn towards the stairs and I close my door,
I climb back into my bed and his words burn into my skull,
and mother’s crying as permanent as always,
my room is dark and the streetlights outside are all burnt out.

Always defensive and never offensive,
mother will never have control of her life.
my english class required me to write a poem based upon Kay Smith's "Family Group", basically 4 stanzas (introduction, description, actions, closing) then two lines passing judgement. it had to be about an event we witnessed but were not directly a part of.
I'm
                           screaming,
                              
yelling,
          
                         calling

your name.
But either I
have lost my voice
or you
do not want to hear me
no more.
Lieke Feb 1
In a cloud of white air
I yell and I yell
enclosed by the air
and yet I can't feel it.


I want to hurt myself
just so I can feel something
So I try and I try
but not a drop of blood shed.


I shoot and I shoot
I clash my cymbals
I set myself on fire
I bomb the whole **** cloud.


No effects.
No restraint.
No movement.
No feeling.


I am stuck in an infinite circle of an alternate reality.
Isolated from life.
I sit down here
in a cloud of white air.
about a dream I had a few nights ago. 1 February, 2019
Masha Yurkevich Dec 2018
Please don't fight;
it turns the beautiful day
into an **** night.
Please don't argue;
it has no value.
Please don't shout;
it's a verbal shootout.
Please don't yell;
I hate it,
can't you tell!?
hello my name is Nov 2018
I've been trying to write poetry
I think I just need to go back to therapy
I've never been good at explaining how I feel
I thought putting it on paper would help
But the thoughts in my head move too fast for me to dictate
Maybe I should learn shorthand
Or maybe I could start kickboxing
I'm trying to find a way to get all of this **** out of my head
But it's sticking to the inside of my brain like tar in lungs
I'd scream, but I'm afraid nothing would come out.
MrsFootePoems Nov 2018
I dont want to be
Your verbal punching bag. So
Please just set me free
Pure of Stars Aug 2018
the screaming is so clear in my ears
the pleading and screeches
i hear them all
sometimes it’s inside of me
but sometimes it isn’t
sometimes it’s from real people
and those hurt the worse
it’s easier for me to get shaken up by the real yelling, not the ones in my head
Stella Aug 2018
I’ve got problems
I know I do
But I ignore them
Constantly thinking others have it worse
They have it worse
Than the occasional yelling
They have it worse
Than the feeling of being isolated
They have it worse
Than the occasional self-loathing.
I feel like I can’t get help,
Why should I waste anyone's time
With problems that don’t even matter
Compared to others?
Others have abusive parents,
Others are constantly yelled at,
Others are going through so much worse
Than I have ever gone through.
But then why do I feel this way?
Like I have things not resolved,
Like I’m not enough?
Like I feel bad for wanting help?
I can’t help but compare myself to others,
And I can’t help but think I’m insignificant
Compared to everyone
Who has it way worse than I do.
I hate that I feel this way, but I can't help that it's true.
I hope you liked it, thanks for reading.
Regan Jul 2018
I’ve wronged you too many—
And I’m sorry for it.
I’m young and ignorant,
I hope you’ll understand.
The yelling is in your head—
But I really wasn’t trying to.
I’m very sorry;
The isolation and tormenting
Wasn’t intentional.
The words of hate,
Are just a cover
For my insecurities.
But in all reality,
Just kick me out,
Not of this place—
But of my own head.
I take things too literally some times and as soon as I make things right, I tend to destroy things right after.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2018
~
When their yelling cuts through the air
my stomach drops as I desist from doing everything.
pressing my head to the carpeted floor to prepare myself for is to what comes next.
Sometimes it is them, sometimes it is us.
No matter the situation a tormenting quaking stillness shakes this house
leaving everyone, besides you two, frozen and afraid.
Nowadays, every
creek
every
squeak
makes me stop and freeze
so I live consistently hitting pause on my life out of fear.
~
but that pause button doesn't stop time
it only stops me.
stopping me from moving on.
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