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Time and tide waits for none.
I wish I wasn’t so dumb.
I feel too much, but I can't handle even one.
I wish I was special, but that won't happen, son!
I wish I was perfect, but this fake pretense makes me succumb.

My body feels stiff, and I break a cold sweat.
I’m not afraid of people,
but my body says otherwise.

That gut-wrenching nausea whenever I leave my room.
That vexing sensation every time I sit to dine.
That suffocating lump in my throat every time I’m yelled at—it shines.
That teary eye every time I had to defend my lines.

I wish I could lead you to my mind.
I wish I could lead you to my mind.

The constant naggings and whispers.
The feeling of never being enough.
The existential dread.

I hate it all.
I hate it all.

Call it self-pity.
Call it self-victimizing.
And I won’t even call you out.

I’m just happy you don’t have to feel what I feel.
I’m just having a random crashout.
I mean, gotta do something, right?
For stayin’ alive?

I’m sorry, but I feel Nervous.

                                                                            - Asher Graves
Sorry for not posting any poems for a while beautiful fellow poets. I was finishing my degree and well now i am free and offically unemployed but hey I can write until things take a turn.
Hope you're having a great day. if not smile okay. You did well. You are awesome.
Asher Graves May 26
Everybody keeps saying how they’d dance in the rain —
sway their bodies, feel the drops,
let the water wash away their pain.

But I say —
why romanticize what you barely understand?
You sing to storms like they’re songs of healing,
but don’t you know?

Rain is sorrow.
Rain is memory leaking through the cracks.
It’s the sky mourning something it lost,
not some magic meant to set you free.

So when someone smiles
and whispers how much they want to dance in the rain,
I look away and answer softly:

Everything but the rain.
                                                  -Asher Graves
I get sad when it rains! and I really liked "Everything But The Rain" which is a reference! Do you get the reference?
Asher Graves May 22
To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.

It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.

Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.

Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.

Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.

Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.

Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.

I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.

Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.

I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.

But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.

Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.

For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.

Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
                                                             -Asher Graves
Was scrummaging through some old notes and found a poem I wrote two years ago. Thought I’d share it here—funny how words from the past can still echo in the present.
Asher Graves May 15
I wish I could cry, but I feel no tears.
I wish I could try—just slowly speak my mind clear.
I wish I didn’t have to explain myself every time I feel fear.
I believed those who know me would understand—
but that was a failure.

Here I am, sitting in quiet despair,
while a stranger understands my dilemma—
and no words were exchanged there.
                                                                   -Asher Graves
I wrote this piece while reading a poem on Wattpad by lina_ledovskaya. Her writing really struck a chord with me—raw, emotional, and beautifully crafted. If you haven’t read her work yet, I highly recommend checking it out. You won’t regret it.
Asher Graves May 7
An approach is a sentiment, not a calling of divine.
An opinion is valid only and only when one doesn't step out of line.
A figment of thought, a pristine smile—
Words are mere thoughts until one makes it worthwhile.

A question appears though? Let me put in some light.
Why do people make it a hot topic when it's not even their life?
Why make comments on what a person should do
If you're not a part of their day-to-day view?

Why act all Saint-like while you belittle them, causing strife?
You lack the basic mannerisms, yet have the audacity to lecture them on rights.
You play the role of a perfectionist, yet you've got so much to hide.
You judge everybody while your own personality has nothing that shines.

Yet, you have the gall to ridicule someone who spent their entire life
Confined to a few meters of land, day and night.
Complaining they don’t provide the family with basic things—
But look at how much they work every day, without help from anyone.

Why does that not come to light, huh?
Making a mockery of them, manipulating others with your lies—
When they did nothing wrong, yet they have to put on a brave face and take it all in,
So that the family stays, despite the brutal conditions they are in.

Not like you’ll ever understand the genuine good in plain sight.
Because of people like you, they can't even take a break, much less a vacation with loved ones.
You're always there to critique their work for a fun laugh—what a dreadful sight.
Yet the people only believe what you say.

Such is this era, such is this life.
You play victim, and the victim gets the dice.
Once again, they're thrown on the same pedestal of hate and loathe.
But now they've lost the sense of fright,
For this is yet another day in their life.

A tragic tale that is very much alive,
A tale to which this right-preaching society turns a blind eye—
A tale of Pride & Prejudice.
                                                                                      -Asher Graves
This piece is inspired by a real-life event. I know that alone is enough, but I still hope people read this and truly understand the grief and suffering of those who live through such experiences.
Asher Graves May 4
I set track with this map of mismatch
That just tracks, and it stacks, and its lax,
On everyone — yet it drains, and it saps
The codex, the freakin’ stats of anyone who fights back
Try to relax, take a sip, but they snap
When I’m sad, like it’s bad, like I’m whack
Like I’m trash yet have the audacity to
bid no eye, and just wave and goodbye
To the ones who just **** up to you while I’m passin’ 'em by
And it’s always just them, and them, and again
And again and again man it pains me to bend — even then
I’m denied to take a stand, but ******* — enough is enough
Of this band — I’ma snap, I’ma crack, I’ma jest, I’ma Laugh
I’m this far away from the end of my thread
But I swear on the pain that I won’t let it end

For The years of torment, and the pains I couldn’t vent
You’ll feel till the end so just relax and repent
These verses are godsent, You fools better flinch, better **** in your pants.

And since birth, I’ve been cursed with this curse to just curse
And blurt this berserk and bizarre **** that works
And it helps in itself, it’s relief in the tension
That’s seepin’ through these sentences, stress in extension
That’s been eatin’ me recently off of my chest
And I still can’t even rest peacefully
No patience is in me, and if you offend me
I'm liftin' you ten feet in the air
I don't care who was there and who saw me, just jaw you
Go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit
I'll smile in the courtroom, and buy you a wardrobe
I'm tired of all you
I don't mean to be mean
But that's all I can be, it's just me
And I am whatever you think I’m not
If I wasn’t then why would I say I’m not
In the paper, the news everyday’s a ****
Everything I’m not made me everything I’m
                                                                    -Asher Graves
This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but could never quite get down — until last night, when I just let it all out. This piece is a thank-you to Eminem for inspiring me, for reminding me that no matter how dark things get, you don’t give up. I know this doesn’t touch the original, but it’s written as a tribute — a homage to the man who lit the fire. All respect and credit to him
Asher Graves May 3
In beauty's embrace, majestic with grace

Soothing, yet a lingering sense of sadness filled up the place,

Unwanted thoughts wind up like a haphazardly tied lace

Been alone countless times won't deny

Maybe it'll be over soon, sighs

I did cry, but I won't pry, I must try and try and try, relentlessly, I don't know why?

Something tells me to do so, and no I won't ask any questions, I'm too tired.

My head feels heavy and it feels cold

Yes, I am a reckless fool, but let truth be told,

hold up, behold,

A free soul, got locked up, in a stronghold, due to freefall, did a reroll, felt an unease, faulty threshold, with a default,
Setting.

Yet I thrived on, not with violence, but with a smile on,
Dreams engulfed in darkness, yet persevered and fight on.
Emotions masked, I fight on, a battle of silence, I reckon

I'm a lost soul at a crossroad, with no hope, yet I try on,
I hold my head up high, a bit shy, but I try
To change the narrative, to rewrite my sky.

I see the highs, I see the lows,
Life's a cinematic film, beautifully composed.
It's real though, no retries, no cheats,
A mistake made, a life fades, "Scream!" echoes in the streets.

Skill issue, you say? Perhaps it's true,
The presence of another is a dream I pursue.

Alas, my fumbling technique never ceases to amuse,
Back to solitude, melancholy's muse.

Walking up the road less travelled by, devoid of any gleam,
A haunting daydream, or so it would seem.

No destination, no direction, just endless extremes,
A conflicted response, a ghastly gleam.

Alone through the time, a truth I've known,
Helplessness grips, a silent pathetic moan.

Guilty, vulnerable, yet a soul set free,
I hate to admit it, but I won't concede.

Heartbreaks, anxieties, failures persist,
Giving up is foolishness, not on my list.

Break me, bury me, all for your thrill,
My body may perish, but never will my will.

Intrusive thoughts roam around, Like I’m fallin’ off of a cliff
The desire to bounce back is sharper than you think
I'm not the one who's drowned here man,
I stand alone, like a “Poneglyph”
My spirit untouched, my soul unbound like a monolith

A rowdy spirit, scorned with disdain,
I'll mock you still, throughout the pain.

I choose my role and I define my fate,
Your words, your arrogance, I disrespectfully negate.

In defiance, I speak with a voice loud and clear,
"The path is treacherous, hearts break, I fear."

The soul’s burnin’, seeking a purpose anew,
To burn it all down, tired of feeling blue.

A voice echoes, a spiteful chill,
Fate falters frivolously front of a mortal's will,
The birth of a legend, just like the Hercules’ will

The poem concludes, a profound standstill,
A journey through emotions, in verses that I instill.
                                                                             -Asher Graves
This poem is a reflection of the silent wars we fight within—the chaotic harmony between vulnerability and resilience. It's about walking alone when no one understands, yet refusing to lay down even when everything screams “give up.” I wrote this during a moment of mental fog and emotional exhaustion, where the only clarity came from putting feelings into form.

The piece isn't polished with comfort. It’s jagged and heavy on purpose. Life doesn't come in neat stanzas, and neither does healing. You'll find scattered metaphors, anime references, poetic contradictions, and a stubborn flame that keeps burning—because even in brokenness, there's defiance. Even in solitude, there's meaning.

This is for anyone who’s felt like a background character in their own story, who’s laughed through tears and masked scars with smiles. You're not alone in your silence. This is me screaming back at the void, not to be heard—but to remind myself that I'm still here.

Keep fighting, even if it’s just to prove the silence wrong.

— Asher Graves
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