Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I look at her and see anger
A wall built up screaming Danger

She draws me in and pushes me away
But when we hug there's nothing to say

It's like a never awakening slumber
I try not to let her bury me 6 feet under

But her pain and hatred makes me wonder
Why someone would hurt a beautiful dove?

One who used to be filled with happiness and so much love
But I can feel her sadness coming. Makes me cry

Her hate sends men running for their lives

What makes me want her so much?

Simply just the softness of her touch.
When silence falls upon my lips
And sound I hear no more

Then I'll be on my way to meet
Those loved ones gone before

I have no fear within my heart
As I reach my dwelling place

For I'll be with the creator
Greeted by his warm embrace

Do not be sad or sorrowful
Do not feel guilt or shame

No need for tears or past regrets
Nor anxious thoughts or blame

Do not fear my journey
As I will not walk alone

Rather know that I will be

At peace

I'm simply going home ~~~
 Mar 2014 Turquoise Mist
Elli
bravery isn't just limited to fighting dragons
or wearing that armour of yours

bravery isn't all about protesting what you believe in
or using your fists to do the explaining

it's you at 6 in the morning forcing yourself to get up
because you stayed up all night crying

it's when you try so hard to keep that untouched blade
that you always kept hidden from your parents
away from your skin

it's when you always try to think of "happy thoughts"
and fake your smiles;
although it's  make believe, it's a sign you don't want to give up

it's when you feel all your bottled up emotions
rushing, begging to be felt by you
and yet you keep yourself from caving in completely
succumbing from your darkest fears

you always feel hopeless and alone,
but then here you are,
alive
breathing
grasping for that minuscule light

you think you have given up completely,
and that your dreams died a long time ago
but when you listen closely,
your heart is still beating
isn't that a sign of hope?

you are fighting your own wars,
so never believe them when they call you
weak
because you have your own battle scars as proof,
proof that you survive and still fighting

you are the hero(heroine) of your own story
so believe me when i tell you that
**you are brave
i still doubt myself that this is good enough, but i hope this gives encouragement to people, like me, who is at the peak of giving up (still editing)
He lets me get broke...
Just to make me richer
He lets me get weak...
Just to make me stronger
He lets me look foolish...
Just to express His wisdom.

He crushes mighty-warlord Goliaths
With a shepherd boy, a sling and a stone!
He frightens entire Syrian armies
With four lepers, no RPGs, no riffles!
He teaches kings "Humility For Dummies"
By making ***** out of Nebuchadnezzars.

I ponder some of the things He does
Terrible! But I find them amusing
And while I chuckle at His wondrous works
I'm reminded that He loves me dearly
And He added a touch of humor to the bible
To express His lovely smile on my unworthy face!*


© Raphael Uzor
Lord, I wrote this one to glorify You
I hope I make You smile like You make me.
If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).
 Mar 2014 Turquoise Mist
mg
the pain
is now cutting
me
so deeply
i can't think
and i have
to be strong
for the ones
who need
me
to be strong
i have to put on this mask
a mask
with smiles
a mask that says
"No, she's happy, don't worry.
The scars on her wrists don't exist."
but frankly
i can't even breathe
or handle
this anymore.

i'm done.

m.g.
You drink about it.
       You smoke about it.
              You **** about it.
                      You cut about it.
                           You sleep about it.
                                 You stopped sleeping about it
                                       You stopped eating about it.
                                            You keep eating about it.
                                                You swallow pills about it.
                                                      You punch walls about it.
                                                           You kick cans about it.
                                                             ­   You spit about it.
                                                             ­        You write about it.
                                                             ­          You cry about it.

                                                            ­            But you won't talk about it.

                                                            ­ You won't pray about it.
                                                      You won't seek help about it.
                                                 You won't reach out about it.
                                            You won't tell your father about it.
                                      You won't tell your lover about it.
                                  You won't meditate about it.
                           You won't medicate about it.
                    You won't preach about it.
             You won't advocate about it.

       You're killing yourself over it,
but perhaps it's time you start saving yourself from it.
What is your "it"?
I've bolded what I find to be healthier alternatives for coping, opposed to the common and harmful ways of coping that are italicized.
This poem is very personal & I hope you learn to cope the best way you can.
**
The words of me...

My mind is blank, and I keep thinking *what are the words of me?


Some here has called me beautiful, worthy, expressive
But I feel ugly, unworthy, miserable, and meek

What are the words of me?

I'm silent on the outside, silently loud on the inside
Always am I sad, my soul cries and lets out silent screams

What are the words of me?
I find it a mystery.
Why am I a mystery of myself?
Am I still figuring the paradox that is me?
I think so
It's like
I'm still learning my soul and the hieroglyphics that is my heart
Both are foreign to me
Something I've barley discovered

What are the words of me?
I'm still confused, like I never really knew, or maybe have yet to discover it

What are the words of me?
Well here it is.
The words of me are the foreign language of my heart and soul
Each and every poem I wrote and will write explains the words of me
Little by little
My poems are the words of me and more

Those are the words of me
And they're worth a billion and more pictures
They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
And someone asked me what the words of me were. P@ul asked me. Which inspired this poem.
Hope you like it!!!!♥♥♥♥❇❇❇❇♥♥❇❇♥❇
Next page