#notfunny - Hello Poetry

She is gray outside. But her heart is blue. She loves to smile But she forgot how He is black outside But his mind is yellow He loves to sing But they tell him he can't She is white on the outside But her thoughts are red She is a genius And they hate her for it He is brown outside But on the inside, he is pink He loves to dance But they tell him he is girly for it We all have our own colors We are all different on the inside We are all beautiful No one is ugly

0

Mar 16, 2016

Mar 16, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC

marisa-lu-makil

Rainbow of Emotions

She is gray outside. But her heart is blue. She loves to smile But she forgot how He is black outside But his mind is yellow He loves to sing But they tell him he can't She is white on the outside But her thoughts are red She is a genius And they hate her for it He is brown outside But on the inside, he is pink He loves to dance But they tell him he is girly for it We all have our own colors We are all different on the inside We are all beautiful No one is ugly

20

I don't understand how people treat depression like a joke. It isn't funny. It isn't something small that someone can just "get over". Depression is a very serious and very real mental condition. It isn't okay. People who suffer from this condition aren't suffering for attention. These people spend every day of their lives trying to overcome it. Is it still funny? They don't get the privileges other people get. They wake up each morning wishing life would end. Is it still okay? When will humanity come into play so we can get some respect?

0

Dec 12, 2014

Dec 12, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC

Kambry

A Joke?

I don't understand how people treat depression like a joke. It isn't funny. It isn't something small that someone can just "get over". Depression is a very serious and very real mental condition. It isn't okay. People who suffer from this condition aren't suffering for attention. These people spend every day of their lives trying to overcome it. Is it still funny? They don't get the privileges other people get. They wake up each morning wishing life would end. Is it still okay? When will humanity come into play so we can get some respect?

12

The sun, so lover-like, ran her fingers Through the glistening leaves, Movements soft, so full of intention Their waxy dew, shuttered in response, A low moan played in the breeze, The light of sonority contrasts the electric Disharmonies in the stormy afternoon. Though I could feel a forest now eased The river that runs through Carried the blood of a plural heart Beating with a passion akin in power, though enemy in fashion, As its waves beat the banks Eroding them into, eating up the aridness As though slaking were its due, muddying the sky’s blue From its surface, piercing the eyes from its reflection Discouraging, this turbid froth, from worth of further inspection. It rages and rages over rocks so violently Picking at its slimming walls, making and claiming Detritus along the path so that all the beauty a river is Crashes, collides, and disfigures—a chaos growing Bigger and bigger—the speed of its wrath Bespeaks of its wake, blasting the earth (Watch it dissipate!) Out of my sight it runs its due course south Spitting the detritus that arrives At the mouth.

0

May 5, 2014

May 5, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC

jp-goss

The River that Runs Through

The sun, so lover-like, ran her fingers Through the glistening leaves, Movements soft, so full of intention Their waxy dew, shuttered in response, A low moan played in the breeze, The light of sonority contrasts the electric Disharmonies in the stormy afternoon. Though I could feel a forest now eased The river that runs through Carried the blood of a plural heart Beating with a passion akin in power, though enemy in fashion, As its waves beat the banks Eroding them into, eating up the aridness As though slaking were its due, muddying the sky’s blue From its surface, piercing the eyes from its reflection Discouraging, this turbid froth, from worth of further inspection. It rages and rages over rocks so violently Picking at its slimming walls, making and claiming Detritus along the path so that all the beauty a river is Crashes, collides, and disfigures—a chaos growing Bigger and bigger—the speed of its wrath Bespeaks of its wake, blasting the earth (Watch it dissipate!) Out of my sight it runs its due course south Spitting the detritus that arrives At the mouth.

25