#lackoflove - Hello Poetry

Dining on copious amounts of serotonin Dopamine fiend I get called a terrible teen Lack of melotonin Sleepless dreams Of seizing opportunities But I don't participate in life; truancy I guess I'm nothing more than another one of heroin's machines

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Nov 4, 2014

Nov 4, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC

chloepoetry

Tweedle the Needle

Dining on copious amounts of serotonin Dopamine fiend I get called a terrible teen Lack of melotonin Sleepless dreams Of seizing opportunities But I don't participate in life; truancy I guess I'm nothing more than another one of heroin's machines

8

I was such a child myself, ten years old I came to the institution, unwanted and ignorant how Till my brother found me between the infants of my class and told me how I was 37 when I got a family I asked them for shelter but they didn't know how So I stayed here and grew old wrapped in sheets of folding paper keeping back how suffocating my life is No one smooths out the folds No one knows how

0

Sep 7, 2025

Sep 7, 2025 at 9:21 AM UTC

Zywa

Love wasn't great enough

I was such a child myself, ten years old I came to the institution, unwanted and ignorant how Till my brother found me between the infants of my class and told me how I was 37 when I got a family I asked them for shelter but they didn't know how So I stayed here and grew old wrapped in sheets of folding paper keeping back how suffocating my life is No one smooths out the folds No one knows how

15

Wind stings and nips at My cheek, but it’s nothing like Your seasoned kisses. Kisses that I am lacking From your sly lips: bitter-sweet.

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Dec 23, 2018

Dec 23, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC

agooseorachild

No One Can Compare (Tanka)

Wind stings and nips at My cheek, but it’s nothing like Your seasoned kisses. Kisses that I am lacking From your sly lips: bitter-sweet.

5

Decision making, eyes shaking, earth quaking, life taking, high staking, things that we love. Things that we love, they're better when they're free, some love expensive, some love subjective none love objective limited, their love, intangible, their love. Their love, intangible. How to get it, who knows. Who knows, if we suppose that we all have a heart. Does everyone feel the same beat? Do we notice when we're frozen? Is there a doctor to tell us we have trouble, The Doctor is here, "Paul Reever, have you any fear? They say you speak ill things they see your need for belonging." Da Vinci is here, "I opened you up, the human heart should be soft, tender, warm. Your heart is hard, cemented, cold." The Priest is here, "Demented, legion receiving fiend with insides screamin'. 60% water, a human is, 60% evil, your being within." Knock, knock, my name is dark, what a shame to claim the fame of pride insane it drives bee hives done with lives sharp knives fill the night skies flying down when it rains ending your pain with a strange bolt of lightning worth the sight seeing it's enticing that all this writing is enough to stop the fighting my imagination, if it were to come true, perhaps a better ending would start befriending the sense of purpose so condescending lack of vending when it comes to sending red lips dismissed Love, they say. Humans get away. Portrayed with materialism, all of it is grim.

0

Feb 1, 2018

Feb 1, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC

MrSleepz

The Things We Love

Decision making, eyes shaking, earth quaking, life taking, high staking, things that we love. Things that we love, they're better when they're free, some love expensive, some love subjective none love objective limited, their love, intangible, their love. Their love, intangible. How to get it, who knows. Who knows, if we suppose that we all have a heart. Does everyone feel the same beat? Do we notice when we're frozen? Is there a doctor to tell us we have trouble, The Doctor is here, "Paul Reever, have you any fear? They say you speak ill things they see your need for belonging." Da Vinci is here, "I opened you up, the human heart should be soft, tender, warm. Your heart is hard, cemented, cold." The Priest is here, "Demented, legion receiving fiend with insides screamin'. 60% water, a human is, 60% evil, your being within." Knock, knock, my name is dark, what a shame to claim the fame of pride insane it drives bee hives done with lives sharp knives fill the night skies flying down when it rains ending your pain with a strange bolt of lightning worth the sight seeing it's enticing that all this writing is enough to stop the fighting my imagination, if it were to come true, perhaps a better ending would start befriending the sense of purpose so condescending lack of vending when it comes to sending red lips dismissed Love, they say. Humans get away. Portrayed with materialism, all of it is grim.

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