#selfcriticism
i fake a smile at dinner;
try to recreate it in the mirror
when alone -
checking to see if they
could’ve seen through it.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 8:53 AM UTC
Hey, I’mamess
Can I have a moment with you
Don’t you know that you’ve been looking like the world is against you?
Well, ya know
I’m just curious what the hell are you going through?
If you wanna talk, just tell me
I’m all ears for you
Hey, I’mamess
So you’ve been feeling stuck
And you can't figure out what’s causing you to feel like that
Could it be your mom, your dad, your grandma, or pa?
Or maybe it's just yourself
Oh, I guess that's that
And now you’re telling me you also feel uninspired
And you can’t even write a song, a poem, or anything that rhymes
Singing is now boring and your fingers are tired
Tired of playing the same tunes almost every night
Hey, I’mamess
I heard you know God
And you’re telling other people about His great love
I must say, it’s a good thing and I salute you for that
But now you’re telling me you’re a hypocritical wing nut
Hey, I’mamess
You are indeed a mess
You’re an unproductive, recalcitrant, idiotic wreck
But hey, I’mamess
A lot of people like you
They appreciate your talent and the things that you do
Lastly, I’mamess
I think the world is not really against you
You are a mess because you criticize you
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
Reflections
by Michael R. Burch
I am her mirror.
I say she is kind,
lovely, breathtaking.
She screams that I’m blind.
I show her her beauty,
her brilliance and compassion.
She refuses to believe me,
for that’s the latest fashion.
She storms and she rages;
she dissolves into tears
while envious Angels
are, by God, her only Peers.
Keywords/Tags: reflection, mirror, image, anorexia, bulimia, cutting, reflections, self-image, self-worth, self-criticism, self-shaming, mrbref
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC
I'm sharing a house with her;
She's the moodiest person I know
She drinks her coffee without sugar
in the cold days,
and with sugar in the sunny days.
She calls it way of living;
I call it lost of interest
She sleeps all day
to drive her demons away
-I think
she's creating more-
and if not,
she cries over a crack in the wall
Melancholy should be her second name
-she annoys every cell in me
I'm not even trying to explain-
so much sadness in a face
she destroyed the colours of our furniture
in the very first day
I think of driving her off the house
but then,
an abandoned house
is the most miserable thing
I can think about
Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC
I think guilt might be killing me.
Now you may ask yourselves: "What did I do to feel so?"
- **** someone?
No. Nothing so radical.
In fact, nothing that might actually warrant this level of guilt.
Misplaced guilt is like my personal ******* -
an addiction that my brain can't get rid of, constantly calling to be fed.
I latches on every small mistake
Sinks its claws deep into the marrow of my bones
and stews for a very long time -
whilst my brain vainly strives towards perfection.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 4:11 AM UTC
You scratched the record
And now my head is back on repeat
It goes over that same beat
Over and over again to the point where
I don't even wanna attempt to speak
If silence is golden
Then I'm the biggest known mine
Because it feels as though I've been skating over myself when putting words into rhyme
Always the same topics from me and not to interesting metaphors
You scratched it like a DJ on turntables because I'm winding up to the end of this fable, I can still write and I'm more than willing and able but I gotta stretch my muscles again before I lose the sharpness on my pen, that's my sword
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC