"ammount" poems - Hello Poetry

I exist but I do not co-exist With the world around me I live in a shadow of loneliness that... No ammount of buildings No ammount of lights No ammount of people Can overcome I live in a city full of souls Longing for some connection But no matter how Connected The technology is around us Our souls remain untouched Unwanted In the scheme of life I exist in a bustling city But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants I live in a bubble of Me, myself, and I In the bubble I am Alone But it is by choice To leave the bubble would mean loneliness not by choice but by exclusion... Am I not interesting? Am I too interesting? Or is everyone too caught up to notice Me and my lonely shadow Ever present Ever looming God is good, He is enough But real connection with a familiar soul Is what I long for in my solace I have a family, I have friends But the truth is this; I am alone God is here, He is Listening Watching Comforting But I am alone... I exist but I do not co-exist With the world around me I go through the motions But it does not seem real I have conversations But they have no apeal I exist in a bustling city But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants I exist But not really Not truly

0

Nov 20, 2013

Nov 20, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC

leone

I exist but I do not co-exist...

I exist but I do not co-exist With the world around me I live in a shadow of loneliness that... No ammount of buildings No ammount of lights No ammount of people Can overcome I live in a city full of souls Longing for some connection But no matter how Connected The technology is around us Our souls remain untouched Unwanted In the scheme of life I exist in a bustling city But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants I live in a bubble of Me, myself, and I In the bubble I am Alone But it is by choice To leave the bubble would mean loneliness not by choice but by exclusion... Am I not interesting? Am I too interesting? Or is everyone too caught up to notice Me and my lonely shadow Ever present Ever looming God is good, He is enough But real connection with a familiar soul Is what I long for in my solace I have a family, I have friends But the truth is this; I am alone God is here, He is Listening Watching Comforting But I am alone... I exist but I do not co-exist With the world around me I go through the motions But it does not seem real I have conversations But they have no apeal I exist in a bustling city But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants I exist But not really Not truly

51

365 Three simple numbers, a lot of meaning. 365 the number of freckles scattered over your body 365 the amount of times you told me you loved me in one day 365 the last 3 didgits of your cell number 365 the amount of times I watched your chest rise and fall until I fell asleep 365 the total ammount of days since you left 365 May no longer be the amount of freckles you have, she may have found one I missed 365 the amount of times you've said you loved her, it may have multiplied or tripled 365 no longer your last three digits, believe me I've checked 365 days of living without you 365 has tore me down and brought me to hell and back 365 no longer stands for the total number of days in a year 365 stands for how may days my heart has broken and how may times you've said goodbye

0

May 19, 2015

May 19, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC

heathere7

365

365 Three simple numbers, a lot of meaning. 365 the number of freckles scattered over your body 365 the amount of times you told me you loved me in one day 365 the last 3 didgits of your cell number 365 the amount of times I watched your chest rise and fall until I fell asleep 365 the total ammount of days since you left 365 May no longer be the amount of freckles you have, she may have found one I missed 365 the amount of times you've said you loved her, it may have multiplied or tripled 365 no longer your last three digits, believe me I've checked 365 days of living without you 365 has tore me down and brought me to hell and back 365 no longer stands for the total number of days in a year 365 stands for how may days my heart has broken and how may times you've said goodbye

14

Should have never been born at all Not born at all is way With this face And this name Don't cry inside your paper house or Your paper hours comes crashing down More than what my mother said More than just a doll to dress More than just an empty head That couldn't ammount to less Am I What little I know about myself Is piled high upon a shelf Waiting for my mind to realign And find that I've been Starving my ego Having conversations With the skeletons in my closet Making fun of their Feeble spines But realizing So is mine Still too proud to apologize I tried to write a poem But ended up with a full waste bin And a dull safety pin Yet I don't mean to jeopardize The precision of your perfect lies Oh humanity I've tried To define myself with a dictionary Leaving fingerprints on the obituary The fabric scraps in my closet still Send me guilt from my grandmother In patterns from the sixties Oh one day when day when I'm dead and gone And know that life is much too long To spend as someone else My poems and my fabric will become Vintage pessimism in a shoebox Glowering down from someone else's shelf

0

Sep 22, 2015

Sep 22, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC

zita-nonie-hasenkamp

Vintage Pessimism in a Shoebox

Should have never been born at all Not born at all is way With this face And this name Don't cry inside your paper house or Your paper hours comes crashing down More than what my mother said More than just a doll to dress More than just an empty head That couldn't ammount to less Am I What little I know about myself Is piled high upon a shelf Waiting for my mind to realign And find that I've been Starving my ego Having conversations With the skeletons in my closet Making fun of their Feeble spines But realizing So is mine Still too proud to apologize I tried to write a poem But ended up with a full waste bin And a dull safety pin Yet I don't mean to jeopardize The precision of your perfect lies Oh humanity I've tried To define myself with a dictionary Leaving fingerprints on the obituary The fabric scraps in my closet still Send me guilt from my grandmother In patterns from the sixties Oh one day when day when I'm dead and gone And know that life is much too long To spend as someone else My poems and my fabric will become Vintage pessimism in a shoebox Glowering down from someone else's shelf

39

I will not lie myself down At your knees and bow. I will not drape myself Across the floor And kiss the ground Beneath your feet. You are not my king I am your queen. You bow to me And I shall do the same I am your equal Not your slave. I am not your ***** I don't want you to throw me down I want to lie as equals And if you so much as lay A finger on me Without asking first You might find yourself lacking In the eyes to behold me with And the fingers to scold me with. I am not your pet. I will not come when called No wolf whistle Will make me come running No ammount of persuasion Will sway me. I am not yours You do not own me And when you look upon me And all you see is honeybee lips Thin waist Big **** Nice *** Even if you ask nicely I have no obligation I reserve the right to decline Without being verbally assaulted Do I really have to treat you Like your age is equivalent To the number of your IQ No means no Stop means stop And you do not touch Until I tell you to. Keep you hands Eyes **** Mouth And ****** preverted ego To yourself. I am powerful I am a woman Since when have those words Become antonyms They are the same And a man is nothing Without his better half. We don't want it unless we say so And you pay attention When I say no If you lack the skills That toddelers know Then we'll mark you down Like it's still grade school. But this is no playground game Calling names doesn't equate to love In just the same way that Objectification isn't a complement And promiscuity is not a one way ticket to **** I know rocks who have a better Sense of moral direction than you. Your broken ego Makes you irreparable You are utterly replaceable Consent is **** And you are not Nobody 'deserves a good fuck' Are you really that fickle No girl should be judged By her short shorts She is not the ***** here You are horrible with a capital H Go burn in hell. I am not your toy You play with me nicely And only when I Say so You stop when I say no Could I possibly be more clear Don't throw me down We lie as equals I will not lay in your bed We play by my rules I will not bow to you I will not blow you I will not kiss the ground you walk on I am not an accessory And you Will Respect me.

0

Apr 16, 2014

Apr 16, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC

meghan-oneill

Mercy

I will not lie myself down At your knees and bow. I will not drape myself Across the floor And kiss the ground Beneath your feet. You are not my king I am your queen. You bow to me And I shall do the same I am your equal Not your slave. I am not your ***** I don't want you to throw me down I want to lie as equals And if you so much as lay A finger on me Without asking first You might find yourself lacking In the eyes to behold me with And the fingers to scold me with. I am not your pet. I will not come when called No wolf whistle Will make me come running No ammount of persuasion Will sway me. I am not yours You do not own me And when you look upon me And all you see is honeybee lips Thin waist Big **** Nice *** Even if you ask nicely I have no obligation I reserve the right to decline Without being verbally assaulted Do I really have to treat you Like your age is equivalent To the number of your IQ No means no Stop means stop And you do not touch Until I tell you to. Keep you hands Eyes **** Mouth And ****** preverted ego To yourself. I am powerful I am a woman Since when have those words Become antonyms They are the same And a man is nothing Without his better half. We don't want it unless we say so And you pay attention When I say no If you lack the skills That toddelers know Then we'll mark you down Like it's still grade school. But this is no playground game Calling names doesn't equate to love In just the same way that Objectification isn't a complement And promiscuity is not a one way ticket to **** I know rocks who have a better Sense of moral direction than you. Your broken ego Makes you irreparable You are utterly replaceable Consent is **** And you are not Nobody 'deserves a good fuck' Are you really that fickle No girl should be judged By her short shorts She is not the ***** here You are horrible with a capital H Go burn in hell. I am not your toy You play with me nicely And only when I Say so You stop when I say no Could I possibly be more clear Don't throw me down We lie as equals I will not lay in your bed We play by my rules I will not bow to you I will not blow you I will not kiss the ground you walk on I am not an accessory And you Will Respect me.

102

I am Water I am Beer I am ****** up I am Love I am Bold I am Confusion I am Half-Walked Roads I am Pen to Paper I am the Words that should have gone Unspoken I am Aquaintance I am Laughter at the Wrong Moments, For the Wrong Reasons, At the Wrong Pace, For the Wrong Ammount of Time; the Complete Embodiment of Inappropriate I am Ordered Outside; Chaos Within I am the Mistake You love to make

0

May 13, 2013

May 13, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC

amelia-jo-anne

Parallels

I am Water I am Beer I am ****** up I am Love I am Bold I am Confusion I am Half-Walked Roads I am Pen to Paper I am the Words that should have gone Unspoken I am Aquaintance I am Laughter at the Wrong Moments, For the Wrong Reasons, At the Wrong Pace, For the Wrong Ammount of Time; the Complete Embodiment of Inappropriate I am Ordered Outside; Chaos Within I am the Mistake You love to make

13

Here's to the teens, The teens who are still smiling, After being broken uncountable times. The ones that are still waking up everyday despite the reasons they should not. So many reasons. The teens that ignore the suicidal mind inside their head that outlines the engravings in their wrists that spell his name. To be used for the short ammount of feeling that she loves. Because in reality. Most of you don't even feel anymore. Here's to the teens that are still hanging on, Waiting. Waiting for something, or someone to come stop the emptiness. Here's to the teens that have given up on society. And are living in their daydream. Its probably better for us, anyways. All of us, Hurt, or not. Society is gonna catch us all, Like fishing. Society's the bait. Were the fish. And this world, Is the fisherman. So here's to the teens, The teens who are still breathing, The ones that are learning to live in a daydream. Because its safe, and its well, Happy. In our little daydream.

0

Dec 22, 2014

Dec 22, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC

unknown-poet

alive in a daydream.

Here's to the teens, The teens who are still smiling, After being broken uncountable times. The ones that are still waking up everyday despite the reasons they should not. So many reasons. The teens that ignore the suicidal mind inside their head that outlines the engravings in their wrists that spell his name. To be used for the short ammount of feeling that she loves. Because in reality. Most of you don't even feel anymore. Here's to the teens that are still hanging on, Waiting. Waiting for something, or someone to come stop the emptiness. Here's to the teens that have given up on society. And are living in their daydream. Its probably better for us, anyways. All of us, Hurt, or not. Society is gonna catch us all, Like fishing. Society's the bait. Were the fish. And this world, Is the fisherman. So here's to the teens, The teens who are still breathing, The ones that are learning to live in a daydream. Because its safe, and its well, Happy. In our little daydream.

29

They say Nothing tastes as good As skinny feels And when I look in the mirror All I feel is anger He tells me I'm beautiful He tells me that he loves my body But I feel like I'm being told a liars tale Like his liking of my appearance is nothing more than an Aesop's Fabel With the lesson to never accept flattery And I will always be the frog My insecurities the stones they pelt me with And if they can't hemp themselves Than here I am splayed out like the frog I am on a dissection table Waiting for your scalpels And other picking tools Rip me apart And tell me my flaws So I may love myself Much like you do your own self Through mirrors And cameras Because no amount of corsets or face masks Will make me love myself No ammount of comments from boys just passing by Will make me feel better Because there will always be that person telling me that I will die alone That I'm not pretty enough And that I don't look like her And if there are 100 people telling me not to listen to them And if they are so wrong Than why do their opinions echo so loud?

0

May 11, 2017

May 11, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC

krazysnowflake

The Art In Loving Myself

They say Nothing tastes as good As skinny feels And when I look in the mirror All I feel is anger He tells me I'm beautiful He tells me that he loves my body But I feel like I'm being told a liars tale Like his liking of my appearance is nothing more than an Aesop's Fabel With the lesson to never accept flattery And I will always be the frog My insecurities the stones they pelt me with And if they can't hemp themselves Than here I am splayed out like the frog I am on a dissection table Waiting for your scalpels And other picking tools Rip me apart And tell me my flaws So I may love myself Much like you do your own self Through mirrors And cameras Because no amount of corsets or face masks Will make me love myself No ammount of comments from boys just passing by Will make me feel better Because there will always be that person telling me that I will die alone That I'm not pretty enough And that I don't look like her And if there are 100 people telling me not to listen to them And if they are so wrong Than why do their opinions echo so loud?

32