#pleaser
“You can't please everyone”
I’m not trying to
“Why do you try so hard?”
I’m not, I swear!
“You keep trying”
I won’t keep trying
“Shut up, listen”
I can’t, I won’t,
“Pushover, you’re like a doll”
I’m not a doll, I swear,
“You dress and act as one”
No I don’t
“Little puppet”
I’m not a puppet
“You have strings like one”
I’m not a puppet
“You can't please everyone”
Leave it alone, I’m not trying.
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 9:20 AM UTC
Is it okay to say no?
It's okay to say no
Why do I always say yes?
Why do I accept it?
“Don’t be so selfish”
“Don’t be so mean”
I only said no,
It's okay to say no
“You’re being greedy”
“Stop saying no”
No, no, no, no
“Pushover”
Fine I guess I won’t say no…
Nov 6, 2025
Nov 6, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC
I apologize too much.
I never think I do enough.
I always go beyond and above,
Still I’m too fragile to be loved.
I’m so scared of the truth,
Yet nothing else will ever do.
Happiness has been the goal,
But I fear forever feeling hollow.
You and I deserve the best of me.
But who am I—why can't I see?
I don't know how to say no.
People say, "stop," I still go.
Always there, always giving—
Yet alone when I need forgiving.
I'd climb a mountain, cross a sea.
I'd burn myself out just to meet a need.
But I've already lowered the bar—
It drags behind me like a scar.
The world is loud. The vision’s getting hazy.
Please help me now... I feel crazy.
So many faces—
Which is mine?
Each stitched with guilt,
A need to stay in line.
What if saying "no" could feel like peace?
What if I took a space just to breathe?
Would you hold me when I come undone?
Remind me I don't always have to run?
I'm worn, but still reaching.
I'm bruised, but still believing.
I don't need much, just to be seen—
Not as a mirror,
But a human being.
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 6:57 PM UTC
To my memory, I've fallen down the stairs twice
Once I was taken to the hospital, at an age when I wasn't aware of the word fright
The other when the sound of footsteps was taken over by the laughter, while I looked down and silently cried
The first time, there were tears, but there was no shame
I could see the blood, but there was no pain
When my head was wrapped with something white with red blood stains
The other time, it was different
It was the viewers' entertainment
It hurt me more because
As a kid, I've been too used to the sweet words and helpful hands
I decided to wait for someone who's worth the breath I'm saving or stay unloved
So I've seen those hands clapping together but I've also seen my fingers hanging in the air untouched
Because I wasn't looking for a pretend, a friend till it's all said and done
So I've had those empty so-called "stick-around" hugs
I've even tried to be a single person's pleaser
But the tailor never stitched me to be entangled with people
Sometimes the colour doesn't match,
Sometimes the needle picks out the bonded thread
And sometimes I didn't waste my days to find out the reason
Maybe the incidents where I couldn't sleep even in my own house
Or where I couldn't dare to stand alone in the outside crowd
The one which I still can't speak of to myself
Are the reason why I think that "believing in someone" is the shortest route to hell
I am sure everybody has had hard times
And I am not giving the importance to myself
I am not making it all about me
But there's no one, and to you, I'm justifying myself
You can tell how vulnerable I feel
To my memory, I've bought a rose twice
Once, it was never sent; in my hand, it slowly died
The other time, the rose was picked up
But it was sent by me, so it was disliked
Memories don't always bring the joy; sometimes it's best folded
And I'd say to every old me, who's been "never chosen," "left hurt," and "self distorted":
Don't blame your legs, because you couldn't run
Don't blame your hands, because you couldn't paint
Often days, your body will feel burned
Don't blame yourself, if you'll ever faint
Maybe what you've dreamed, you might not get
But a good girl always lives along and appreciates what's been served on the plate
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 4:18 AM UTC
I wish I am the chosen one,
the one that is so essential,
can I be better in the future?
I can’t even answer that.
Like a mirrorball suspended in a dimly lit room,
I will only say, “yes!”,
“you can have that” “you can do that”,
I would never say no,
I don’t dare to,
fret that I’ll hurt their feelings,
but did they think the same way?
this time, the answer is yes.
Sometimes, I wish I knew everything,
the scent of uncertainty lingering in the air,
sometimes, I wish I knew nothing,
the taste of regret like bitter coffee on my tongue,
either way, I’m a mirrorball
the one that’s just there,
the gentle hum of unnoticed existence,
no one even notices it,
until they need it.
Like a mirrorball, when it’s break
it’s shattered into a million pieces,
the sound of splintering glass echoing in the silence,
but that’s what makes it shine,
the dazzling light refracting through the shards,
that’s what gives it attention.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 4:47 AM UTC
Little divested flower,
Shame— how you break with the peak of light.
A blossom they might think,
You're still a phony stick.
Is it guilt filling the scene?
Or is it just the sunbeam?
May 13, 2022
May 13, 2022 at 2:24 PM UTC
Be careful of your words
For as they fall, they manifest
In the heart of the receiver
Who's emotionally undressed
Forever a disappointment
Eternally desperate to prove
As piece by piece they realise
If not perfect.............they lose.
Persistence hangs as stalactites
To please, to please, to please
But failure to get it perfect
The pain is never released
Be careful of your words
For as they fall, they manifest
In the heart of the receiver
Who's emotionally undressed
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 4:15 AM UTC
I don’t mind being under the shoe;
If it means I don’t have to step on you.
I don’t mind being over-whelmed;
if it’s all too much for you.
I’d be nothing; if it wasn't for you!
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
The appetite of a people-pleaser cannot be appeased,
due to the want of satisfying everybody's needs
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 10:17 AM UTC
I kept trying all these years
To be the standart, to hide my tears
To smile at everyone in the table
I thought I was able
To receive all I gave
To leave the cave
Today I see that's not right
I know who I am, I've seen the light
I'm not lonely, just alone
I don't look at their faces on my phone
I gave up on her, I gave up on him
That's what I mean
It's all over today
And I think I don't have to pay
It's okay to let go
My life isn't anymore a show
Now I understand, at last
That my wild days are past.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Awwww, you're so pure?
Why, IS it
I insist upon
complimenting
my friends
and they cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnot
take it
at all?
I'm dubbed pure
innocent
sweet
How
come?
Am
I
just
a people
pleaser?
Terrified of social rejection
so I try too hard
to be
that "nice"
girl
But, is she me?
Actually?
Cause,
I do see the good
in others
And the
bad
Letting one out
Keeping the other
In secure
In
Criticisms layered, with little
flowers
Revealed
as soft
and mushy
No hard edges
Overly soft,
As if one were protecting
a child
But,
Is
It
Me?
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
If you start to yell and scream,
Count on me to freeze.
I can't take anger directed at me,
I was born with a disease to please.
Average grades are shameful here.
No more B's and C's.
"Good" is just not good enough
When you have a disease to please.
I know people who pass through life,
Jumping hurdles with ease.
I tell myself "not high enough,"
Thanks to my disease to please.
Emotions take more than fair
In situations like these.
I'm completely drained, robbed, ****** dry
From my disease to please.
All this pressure takes its toll,
Constantly, I feel my heart squeeze.
Breaths are rapid, running short,
And I'm dying from my disease.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
Seven cooks in the kitchen, making spaghetti,
Each one hurrying and rushing to ready.
My *** of bolognese, succulent, simmering,
Sits on the front right burner, heat shimmering.
One chef diligently tossing a salad,
Another one turns on a calm Italian ballad.
"Help!" Cries a cook as she comes running in.
"My Alfredo sauce won't work! It's much too thin!"
"Not to worry, my friend," I console the bereft.
"My burner is hot, take my place." I move left.
Things are a bit more crowded with her,
But I happily give my sauce a good stir.
Things are running more smoothly now,
'Til another chef bursts in (also having a cow).
"The spaghetti is cooking, but keeps boiling out!"
I think long and hard as the chef starts to pout.
"I'll push my *** back, so you can still see,
"My sauce will be fine for a minute or three."
My time in the kitchen has made me a quick learner,
So I smile as I move bolognese to the back burner.
"Stand and watch through the oven door," I said,
To keep a chef from burning his garlic bread. Another chef needs melted butter in her dessert.
Letting her use the microwave can't hurt.
All these chefs doing their work in a blur
Prevent me from giving my sauce a needed stir.
As minutes pass— five, eight, twelve, sixteen—
I begun to understand what the phrase means.
Although the situation is very fitting,
There's just too many cooks in the kitchen.
I don't want to let the wind out of their sails,
So I take a step back, waiting and biting my nails.
Time to dish up, and all chefs leave the area
And I approach my sauce on the verge of hysteria.
It's now much too thick, the bottom is black.
I've neglected my job while picking up slack.
There's no one to blame, I should've learned
If you move to back burner your dish will be burned.
Other chefs are being praised by our boss,
And I'm in the kitchen with a *** of bad sauce.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC