Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Hungry?

I don't feel hungry.
I don't want to eat.
I don't want to wake up for breakfast,
I don't want breakfast.

I don't want to eat.
If not eating means death,
Then do I want to live?

I don't want to eat.
I'm not hungry.

I don't want to live.
I have this weird eating habit where I'll eat breakfast for brunch. I also have a pattern of eating where I'll eat very little on some days but then get second or third helpings on some days. I don't really have any perception of meal times or why exercising when hungry makes the hunger go away?
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Late.
You're too late.
Too late
To stop what you inadvertently caused
Too late to apologise.

Too late to go back,
Too late to reverse
The damage you caused.
To him.
To me.

Late.
You're too late.
Too late to say sorry.
Too late to be sorry.
Too late.

You're just too late.
Don't be sorry.
He never wanted you to be sorry.
He just wanted you to notice him.
To acknowledge him.

Not to ignore him
Bash him
degrade him every time
Every time he comes to you
And asks for a second chance.

He is one of us.
He was one of us.
And you should live forever
In guilt
Of your sins.
A draft for a possible dialogue at the ****** of a passion project :)
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Do you see the boy?
Skipping and jumping under the sky?
Laughing like he has no fear in the world.
Holding hands with air.

Do you notice the way he moves?
The way his feet jerks and grooves?
Moving so unnaturally,
Laughing like there's no end in things.

Lovely schizophrenia, isn't it?
The way it came from his mother?
The way he cares for someone else
Suffering from the same mental illness.

Delusions, fabrications, dreams that is unreal.
the way that he perceives the world makes me really feel.
Uncomfortable, yet I don't think that he asked me to feel
Pity for his condition.

Laugh of a thousand children,
Asking for a better future,
Those ones that seek the asylum,
And look forward for capture.
Public opinion on mental illness is changing, but is it for the better?
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Why do we use
Those artificial smiles
To greet one another?
That goes on for miles and miles?

Why do we exercise
Those 10 muscles around the mouth.
When what we're really doing
Is being uncouth?

I wonder why the people still smile.
To hide their unrelenting pain.
When all they need to do,
Is diverge the rain away?

That was what I thought,
A few years ago.
But now with more experience,
I'll can tell you oh~

Pretend that you are happy,
And the world will be less blue.
Pretend that you are happy,
And you're start to believe it's true!

Ignore all your problems,
And you'll see that life's worthwhile.
Pretend that you are happy,
And your friends might stick around.

Smile everyday!
Hey! Try to sing this to your tune! It's written to be a song, inspired by Jay Foreman's --- Pretend You're Happy ! Anyways, have a good day and remember, there are people out there willing to help you if you just ask them to! Sometimes they'll just help you out without them asking anyways! Always keep in mind that the bad will pass, and you can do it!
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Sounds of thunder and war,
A chant for freedom or gore,
The chance for a revolution,
A time for retribution.

But when the smoke clears,
And trust me it will,
The chance to breathe will be stilled.
For who are we fighting, but those before us?

Ones that protected us,
Ones that restricted us,
Ones that love us yet never seemed to let go of us.

Ones that we call our family.
Our countrymen.
Our people.
Yet still, we rebel.

Against our teachers.
Against the higher ups.
Against the system.

For freedom. For justice.
For the right to make a choice.
For democracy. For our lives.
For a social renaissance.

With our friends. With their help.
With the ones who feel oppressed.
With foreign aid, with combined power.

We overthrow the government.
The head of family.
The bosses, CEOs and stakeholders.
Waving flags that carry our hope.

And when dawn rises upon this darken wasteland,
We shall begin to realise
That the next generation
Will follow in our footsteps.

So be the flag that rises,
It'd be the flag that falls.
For what comes up must always come down.
And rebellions rises and falls.
This was prompted by a suggestion of one of my good friend and classmate in RGS. She gave me the word 'rebellion' when I had asked her for other words. Please do comment a word so that I'll be able to continue writing such poems every other day. :) Also, if you haven't noticed, I have no distinct poetic style, so I must wonder which poem do you all prefer?
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Sorry doesn't cut it does it?
But it does.

It cuts into my skin, leaving trails of red,
Of crimson, of burgundy
Of a shameful, deep red.

I'm sorry, but you don't understand, do you?
You never do.

The rope feels inviting against my neck.
Oh how it fits my head!
Its forgiving roughness hugs my throat,
And I can't help but croak:

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you were never here to help me;
I'm sorry that I never felt happy;
I'm sorry that you caused me to do this
To me, to myself.

Sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

Now, you feel sorry.
You cry those ugly tears of shame.
Tears that had pooled around my eyes
And grew, day by day.

You're sorry.

But sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

I'm already gone;
And you're here to stay;
With your sins of hate
And your late apology.

Sorry doesn't cut it.
So I felt that the previous poem was a bit messy, so here is another one. Sorry.
Creator Sun Sep 2019
A wisp of a breath, a flick of a brush,
The canvas begins to be filled with colour.
A hint of violet, a dab of vermillion,
It seems that she is painting a girlish parlour.

A red drips slowly down her wrist,
As she wipes away at her work.
The foggy glass seems to offer some relief,
Against the cold harsh winter.

The girl stands on her frost-bitten toes
And look upon the scene with wonder.
As the tantalizing warmth appear against her fingers
She can't help but ponder.

Why are some people in the parlour
But others look from the outside in?
For she can't help but question
What is deep within.
This scene is depicting a girl looking into a parlour in the midst of winter. She does not understand why she cannot go in even though she is freezing. The concept of social hierarchy seems like a world away yet she tries her hardest to get a peak of what is going on inside. She had cut herself on some patches of the uneven glass and her lips were turning blue from the frost-bite. I would like to think that this takes place in Russia.
Next page