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Luminosity Cat Nov 2014
Broken.
It is such a strange word.
Broken.
It is such a strange definition.
Broken.
Can't what is broken be fixed?

If that which is broken is fixed, is it still broken?
Perhaps it is just brokenly new.
A broken heart can lead to joy.
So if a heart is sad, is it truly broken?

Broken.
Such a strange thing.
Broken.
What a strange concept.
Broken.
What a strange sound.

Why do humans call themselves broken?
Perhaps being broken, is nothing more then an allusion.
Why do we cry in despair when we seem to have broken?
Being broken only allows light to shine through the cracks.

Broken.
What a strange allusion.
Broken.
What a strange existence.
Broken.
What a strange state.

So, if broken can be fixed...
If Broken leads to joy...
If broken is an allusion..
And if light shines through the cracks of things that are broken...
Then it means two things...

Broken is a temporary state for humans.
Broken never existed to begin with.
Dr Strange Mar 2016
Broken...
Broken hearts
Broken dreams
Broken fantasies that possess me
Broken manifested destinies
Broken...
Broken bones
Broken souls
Broken inner thoughts that get the best me  
Broken swords that seem to never miss me
Broken...
Broken mindsets
Broken sunsets
Broken clouds that now poor upon thee
Broken dams that wash away all life's worries
Broken...
The world we live in is just broken
But the pieces to put it back together are around us
The friends and family that surround us
So fix it and be proud you have us
We as a people aren't always as alone as we think we are.
Venus Mar 2015
"In 21 days you will not cry anymore" they said.
Still I feel like a knife is inside of me and I can't escape.
My first broken heart,
"the most painful but the most helful" they exclamed.
My first broken heart, and I'm feeling like the world is going to end.
My first broken heart, why he did that to me?
My first broken heart, did he really loved me?
My first broken heart, I can't stop dreaming about him.
My first broken heart, please don't leave me.
My first broken heart, I don't want you in my dreams. It hurts me
My first broken heart, I'm drowning on my own tears.
My first broken heart, I can't even sleep now.
My first broken heart, I swear I love you, I'm sorry that you hurt me.
My first broken heart, I hate you, but I love you and I hate myself now.
My first broken heart, She was my friend.
My first broken heart, maybe this pills helps me sleep.
My first broken heart, where is my ****?
My first broken heart, my blood is turning into alcohol.
My first broken heart, he's not the boy I thought he were.
My first broken heart:
"Mama he's a good guy, he really is, but I don't know why he did that to me"  I said.
"If he did that to you then he wasn't good. Deceptions are so painful, baby girl. I swear you're gonna find someone good. Someone who only loves you" She hugged me till I cry into my sleep.
Poetyouknowit Nov 2018
Into his heart she wished to peer
To glimpse a shade of his crippling fear.

These feelings she claimed as just a murmur to sense
Of deep loss, unknown sadness, and loneliness.

From where he came baggage weighed him down
To where she found him toiling around.

Listing and rolling on an open sea
A broken man he was, so sure was she.

A place to pile pity, sadness, and sorrow high
To fill a hole in her own mind's eye.

A project, a task, a falcon with clipped wing;
Perfect - for a broken man can only be a summer fling.

A date written in sand to bring the curtain down
Leaves nothing to invest; nothing to lose in a waning town.

Help she will not, 'tis not her place
For when summer sets - off to another race.

What does one do when magnificent marble cracks to its core?
Take on the mantle of repair as their chivalrous chore?

For when one finds a thing more broken than they
Pious self-righteousness illuminates their way.

Always the better a thing that is broken
For it leaves that which lies beneath always unknown.

Talents and treasures in a life yet to live
Are the things that a broken man has yet to give.

For broken is mended through time and reflection
And then is when she might make a connection.

Yet a connect is impossible when hubris abounds
For painted already is a picture that confounds.

Perception turns to reality as mud turns to stone;
A broken man always is as she chooses to be shone.

Just as a broken plate, glass, or jar are easily discarded
A broken man is one who is also easily departed.

As fracture turns to crack and crack turns to decay
That which is broken knows only one of two ways.

To stay broken forever discarded as dust
Or to mend, heal, and repair the broken man must.

As the swift needle of time sews shut his ripped heart
The broken man realizes in this play he still has a part.

Realization that his role does not intertwine with her
Sets the broken man looking for what can only be a cure.

With grout, cement, and epoxy he sets to piece himself together
The broken man works diligently to fill in each fissure.

And as his new form takes shape he can confidently say
A broken man is not forever - only a detour off life's highway.

Lost in that summer was opportunity for more.
Voices and laughter fading with no encore.

A sadness swells in the throat behind the tongue
A song left to sing, but no song is sung.

The broken man mended whole once again,
He'll always look fondly where whence he has been.
Flying through a world of broken dreams,
Broken promises still whispering in my ears.
Morning screams from a broken coffee cup,
Broken hopes lying shattered within my mind.

Even nothing is so broken I can imagine it,
Broken heart still beating in wondrous thumps.
Peeking through a broken keyhole that never opens,
Broken comfortable bed that doesn't fit anymore.

Drove downtown last night on broken roads,
Broken smiles greeted me in the bar.
Walked home because gas pump was broken,
Broken house welcomed me.

So here I sit a broken man,
Broken memories that heal no more.
Wishing for something better than broken,
Broken everything all around.

Copyright © 2015 Robert William Gruhn
Bill Johnston Jul 2019
Broken words.
But we try.
Broken glass.
But we hope.
Broken songs.
But we sing.
Broken  lass.
But she loves.
Broken words.
But we speak.
Broken bad.
But we care.
Broken songs.
But we sing.
Broken lad.
But he loves.
Broken you.
But you fight.
Broken me.
But I try.
Broken home.
But we sigh.
Broken we.
But we struggle.
Broken strangers.
But we welcome.
Broken world.
But we stand.
Broken light.
But we shine.
DarrianaXo Feb 2014
We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
Backless. Spineless structures.
Faceless fathers.
And miracle mothers.

Brown boys teaching brown boys how to be men.
Brown boys teaching brown girls how to be loved.
Loving her like his “main *****”
like his “side chick”
like his lies. Like his lust. Like his leisure.
Like a good ****.
And she lets him.
She has never seen an example of love.
So he loves her. Broken.
And they reproduce.
Broken.
Another brown baby birthed into a broken home.
With a faceless father and a miracle mother.

Women raising boys into boys.
Not men but boys.
Women raising girls into bitter
Girls into ‘*******’
Girls into bisexual
because there’s no man present.

We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
Inheriting broken hopes.
Boys inheriting the name of a man he’s never known.
Inheriting personality traits from a man we’ll never know.

We’ll never know white picket fence,
We’ll never know 20 year anniversary
We’ll never know happy home
We’ll never know American dream.

We are the forgotten ones.
We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
With hand-me-down hopes.
And Mama’s Spit-shined smiles.

They classified us as the broken ones.
I am from a broken home.
But I am not a broken one.
I pick up my pieces, wrote some poems and made peace with it.

What’s broken can be fixed.
Brother. Be a man.
Sister. Be a woman.
Be royal. Be raw. Be real. Be you. Be king. Be queen. Be father. Be mother. Be love. Be trust. Be home. Be hope.
Be there.
Be there.

We are not broken.
We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
We are rebuilding.
Either lend us a hand or leave us alone.
Miranda Jul 2015
Broken pieces shattered all on the floor;
Broken wings, bent and wilted- they don't
fly anymore.
Broken promises on hopes held high;
Broken stars no longer dancing
in the sky.
Broken dreams and nightmarish nights-
not sleeping, you see, has become
a difficult thing to fight;
Broken words on tongues not held,
all remained empty- a prisoner
without his cell.
Broken hearts and dreamless eyes,
Broken thoughts and broken lies
Broken, broken, broken is it all-
this place is so tiny, it no longer
stands tall.
Everything is broken, down to the pieces
shattered on the floor;
Broken they lay- they couldn't take it any longer,
not anymore.
Jo Swan Oct 2018
Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
Your eyes is filled with terrified tears.
Can you see your father is nearby?
His eyes burns with the fury of Ares-
Causes your spirit to whimper in fear.
Like fragile porcelain dolls been shattered,
He brutally beats your bruised body-
Leaves your spirit broken and battered

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
Oh be a sweet darling good boy and listen!
Can you hear the sound of your father’s fist crunch?
Drowning in deluge of emotional distress,
Your eyes has lost its innocent glisten.
With each punch,
Your aura of gentleness gradually dies.
Your heart cold like gargoyles in fortress

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
The Broken Boy has now become a Man.
His haughty handsome face sneers with disdain.
His soul now barren as the desert of Afghan.
His subconscious mind haunted by past pain.
Lost in the wilderness of his own wrath,
His breath is drunk with the taste of violence,
Has he grown up to be a psychopath?

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
You have become a man of vendetta!
Following the footsteps of your father-
Belt your boy till his skin turns magenta-
His affection for you begins to languish.
This abuse is a never-ending cancer.
Like you, your son shall wear a mask of anger
To camouflage his heart’s suppressed anguish.

Broken Boy giving birth to another Broken Boy
Will the curse of Broken Boy ever end?
I decided to write a poem in the perspective of the abuser. Sometimes it is difficult for people to see abusive people as a vulnerable person who uses anger to hide their pain.
Lumi Nov 2018
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Empty World Of Broken H
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Empty World Of Broken Hear
Empty World Of Broken Heart
Empty World Of Broken Hearts.
Empty World Of Broken Heart
Empty World Of Broken Hear
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You are my everything,
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Empty World Of Broken Hearts.
Robert Guerrero Apr 2013
Life seemed good
Sitting on the beach
Watching the Sun
Commit suicide
By plummeting deep
Into the waves
Tempting Night
To replace its beauty

I remain on the beach
Look at my watch
It's now 10:30
My mom probably read my note
I haven't heard the sirens
So she must not care
I mean hell
When does my broken family ever care

When they are too busy at work
When they yell at me
For not washing a **** spoon
Or take the credit for my accomplishments
When do I get to be happy
When do I get to stop cutting
Or contemplating what I plan on doing tonight
At this peaceful, calm beach

I'm broken
My reflection in the mirror
Can see all my cracks
And missing pieces
So why can't the rest of the world
Is it the mask I'm tired of wearing
Or the role I play as some happy kid

**** I wish there was somebody
Somebody with me
On this peaceful, calm beach
To glue the pieces missing for so long
Back into place
Hold my hand and tell me
That they ******* care
But it wont happen because I came alone

Brought with me a 45
Two bullets just in case
4 bottles of whiskey
And a knife to help speed things up
Because here on this beach
So dark, peaceful, calm, and lonely
I plan to end it
With happiness obtained with my last breath

See when you come from
A ******* broken home
You don't care for life
You don't care fro anything
And everything is a permanent problem
Even you living under there house
And eating so little or too much
Because their the reason for all the depression

You try your best
To please everyone around you
Hoping your happiness
Will make it easier for you
But instead you give them a reason
Just to push you around even more
So you take that little blade
And slide it across your wrist

You bleed your pain out
Your tired of the cruel words
The even crueler people
Who don't give two ***** about you
So do what I'm doing tonight
Go to the most beautiful place
You have ever been
And take your life away

I know I corrupt everything with my darkness
I corrupt the beauty within life
I'm broken
I break everything I touch
So tonight here on this beach
I take my last breath
And slowly begin
To make this place my grave

Broken, Broken, Broken
Everything around me so badly broken
The still water
Can't even capture my reflection
Because parts of me
Drop endlessly into it
From the places I tried
To patch and keep in place

So **** this life
**** the next one
I just wanted to be happy
So as I finish off the third bottle
I'll tear into my wrist
With the freshly sharpened blade
Load the 45 preparing for the end
Because it's only 11:12

By the end of the night
My wrist will stop bleeding
My blood will mix
With the salty sand and water
Making me one with this beach
Because I don't care for life
Here on this land
The Sea has always been my home

See a broken feeling
Not only comes from a broken home
It comes from
The many woman
You offer your heart too
Hoping it's an elegant enough gift
So you can at least
Be given a chance

But as the numbers rack up
The cracks get deeper
And start connecting
Pieces start falling
And that heart
You once had
Becomes almost nothing
Then nothing at all

See I'm even more broken
Because of her
She said she loved me
She got my hopes up
I thought she was perfect
And maybe that's where it went wrong
I put her on a pedal-stool
But I tried to just make her happy

I didn't need big words
Like a dictionary
Or deep lines
Like an old woman's wrinkles
To tell her or show her
That I ******* loved her
That I was loyal to her
But she broke a broken man even further

Maybe I wasn't enough
Maybe I'll never be enough
So **** it
I'm 5 o'clock drunk at 11:51
It's almost time for me to go
So I'll write another suicide note
Further up the shore
So the tide doesn't wash it away

So how should I write this
Like a regular note
Or make it like a business letter
I guess it doesn't matter
I'm leaving this place
Because I'm tired of being used
And tired of being broken
I already know you're not going to miss me

So maybe one last swig
One more cut
Just to bleed a little faster
It's 11:59 at night
Almost 12 like I wanted
The moon is high
And so is the tide
So I guess it's time to say goodbye

I took too much time
Wasted enough of it
All for what
A bullet to the brain
Yeah I guess I have
******* world
Hope you read and remember my poetry
Learn the kind of guy I wa.....
TheBrokenSoldier Oct 2014
Marching, Marching on.
That Broken Soldier
Unfix-able, Never to be intact again.
After to many years of fighting.

And yet still fighting,
That Broken Soldier.
Fighting the never ending fight.
Slowly falling, still, ever fighting.

But he is crumbling,
That Broken Soldier.
Falling apart by the day.
Left in an eternity of frailness.

Becoming less human everyday,
That Broken Soldier.
Solemnly stewing on his personal madness.
But that Soldier fights on.

Still fighting,
That Broken Soldier.
Fighting the never ending fight.
Slowly falling, still, ever fighting.

But his will wavers,
That Broken Soldier.
Is the fight worth fighting?
Worth the deathly blows thrown every day.

Soon none will be left,
of That Broken Soldier.
Soon the fight will be done.
Soon the last hurrah will sound.

The last Hurrah,
from That Broken Soldier.
Giving up the fight.
While letting go, his life.

For his life,
That Broken Solder,
Is his fight.
His fight soon lost.

But still fighting,
That Broken Soldier.
Fighting the ending fight.
Slowly falling, still, Not Ever Fighting.

Not Ever Fighting,
That Broken Soldier.
Not ever more.
The Fight is lost.
Lost is The Broken Soldier
Obar Mark Mar 2014
Poem – By Obar Mark

I'M BROKEN TO BE MORE

It’s no doubt that to feel pain is mandatory;
But to feel the suffering is not only an option but also a choice;
In heartbreak, suffering and pain, remember that being broken is humility;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

It takes a broken soil to give a crop a life;
Don’t worry nor remain in despair while going through breakings;
Instead of crying for a lighter load, just ask for a stronger back to carry the load;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.  

It takes humility to accept that your heart has been broken;
It takes ignorance to allow any man or woman to break your precious heart;
Just as it takes broken cloud to give rain and bring a new hope to huge masses;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

In deed, broken grains give bread;
Broken bread give strength;
Likewise, God uses broken people to make great things;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.
Paul Andrews Apr 2015
Broken recognizes broken.
Two broken souls will find each other,
and hang on for life.
If broken recognizes broken
and I am alone,
am I really broken
or,
have I just not found
someone as broken as me yet?
Pea Jun 2014
I found a lamp, a broken lamp,
keeps shining despite broken.
A magic lamp from a magic land,
Genie's home, o, sweet home.
Three wishes won't ever do,
three wishes crawling from
you;
Seems broken, o, yeah, it's
a broken lamp, a broken lamp from a broken land,
keeps shining despite broken.

Say your three wishes already,
says Genie.
I am writing a poetry, I whisper quietly.
What do you wish it would be? asks Genie, gently.
Ssshhh, you are bothering me, Genie.
Genie was bothering me
so I leave, I leave like the autumn leaves
drift by the window.
I leave like a sunset on a rainy day ---

Never say goodbye
to a broken lamp, a broken lamp from a broken land,
keeps shining despite broken.
I am sorry, Genie.
It all started at the beginning,
When people thought I was missing,
Because I stopped preaching,
And the broken sword stop singing,
Force myself to stop thinking,
Lost hope to keep wishing,
So the birds stop whistling,


Sitting in the middle of the plain fields,
Use a sword that you can’t wield,
Defending the land with a broken shield,
Controlling power over a dark seal,
Being evil makes you feel sick,
I rather love than to be rich,
Not gonna rush life through a glitch,
Press the start button with one click,


A Broken Sword is one thing,
I always loved it when the world sings,
I can’t stop thinking about you,
How come you are so true?
I’m sorry i ever doubted you,
My broken heart always loved you,
Keeping us together with super glue,
I won’t hurt you I promise you,


Every single day when i go outside,
I meditate,
And I feel like i’m lost in the sky,
I suffered with the mistakes i done in the pass,
Cutting yourself with a broken glass,
Pain hurts but it never last,
Let me look into your bright blue eyes,
The Broken Sword is Elder wise,
Not being manipulated with dumb lies,
Like hell,


My mind is so mixed up confused,
Forget you life, ***** you!
Dreaming with a decent meal on my plate,
Promising myself not to hate,
Show I'm different I'm real not fake,
How am I going to make this world a better place?


Shadow is the same as darkness,
You're a shadow in the night,
I been fighting all day,
I'm tired I see death in sight,
World got me on my knees praying,
Sometimes I feel like I'm begging,
Hoping for no more insanity,
At the end the world just keep rotating.


Life is just how it is,
I  can’t make it better,
It’s getting cold I need a sweater,
My eyes are going blind,
After so much that is going on i’m surprise the sun still shines,
I always wanted to fly away with the wind,
That person hates his life and shedding his skin,


The Broken Sword is the legendary sword,
The Broken Sword was used by a WarLord,
Slice from left to right,
Throw one punch get knocked out,
Good night,
Have a lot of times when you just don't feel it,
Have a lot of times when you just can't be it,
Have a lot of times when you just can't see it,
Have a lot of times when you just can't believe it,


The Broken Sword is like a god Sword,
A sword of hatred,
A sword Of Justice,
Of Vengence
Of Life and Death,
The sword has been fighting for thousands of years,
Now it has been destroyed,
Nowhere to be found,
Maybe it's a good thing,
I didn't say it was meant for evil no I didn't.
Finally The Broken Sword is forever hidden.
One day The Broken Sword won't be so broken anymore,
Whenever it gets lifted,
We all get that feeling that “No way, I felt it!”
Anonymous4070 Mar 2017
Dear broken boy,
are you okay?
Need someone to listen?
Have something to say?

Dear broken boy,
What's going on?
Why are you sad?
Is something wrong?

Dear broken boy,
Will you let me help?
Or shove me away,
if I offer myself?

Dear broken boy,
do you see what I see?
The person you are?
The one you can be?

Dear broken boy,
what can I do?
To show you the truth,
to introduce you?

Dear broken boy,
you're perfect, I swear.
Each perfect tear,
each perfect hair.

Dear broken boy,
Why don't you reply?
Why don't you talk back?
Why do you hide?

Dear broken boy,
do you know I'm here?
Do you know I care,
do you know I'm near?

Dear broken boy,
Where did you go?
Are you coming back?
I miss you so.

Dear broken boy,
You deserve the world.
Bye broken boy,
love broken girl.
I'd love to hear your  opinions on this one :)
Sarah Martindale Mar 2019
The heart
The power house of our bodies
Keeping us alive
24/7
Night and day

The heart keeps us alive
Even if we feel broken
But what if the heart is what’s broken?

A broken heart will hurt for what feels like eons
A broken heart is a result of loving someone, then realizing they don’t feel the same
Then they decide to leave you

Alone
Broken
Picking up the pieces of your heart by yourself

You start to think
What happened?
Did I do something wrong?
Were we even a good match to start with?
When did it all go wrong?

You just sit there
With your heart breaking
Tears streaming down your eyes, pooling at your feet

A broken heart never lets you forget
The good
The bad
The happy
The sad
Because the person that broke your heart, will always be IN your heart

You want to hate them
You want to find anyone you can to make them feel the way you feel
To hurt the way you hurt

But the heart is a tricky thing to understand

You want to hurt the idiot who hurt you
But you also want what’s best for them
You want them to feel the pain that you feel
But you don’t want them to hurt the way you’re hurting

Our heart is a thing of irony

The heart makes us feel things we don’t want to feel
It makes us do things we would never do
It makes us fall for people we know are bad for us
We fall for them anyway

But eventually, with time, the broken heart will heal

The broken heart will never really be the same though
It is hard to put something back together once it has been broken

But a broken heart can help you as well
It can help you be more cautious when you start to fall for someone
It can make you stronger because it broke, but it healed
It can teach you about who you are
....you still need to know that

But the broken heart did heal
It doesn’t look the same
It still works the same
It was sewn back together crookedly
But it still beats

Just because the heart breaks, it doesn’t mean you’re not good enough, or unworthy of love
It just means you’re getting stronger
For when you find that person who can successfully mend your heart
You’ll love them much more than you thought possible

After all, hearts (and people) get broken
But the broken live on

So tell me
What will you do

Will your heart break, and then will you become broken?

OR

Will your heart break, and then you put it back together the best you can
And wait until you find that one person who will make it completely whole again?

That’s a choice I’ve already made
But what about you?
What choice will you make about your heart if it gets broken?
Mark Lecuona May 2017
Broken minds
Broken bodies
Broken art  
Broken girl

What is the point of laughing anymore?
Dresden fires
Hiroshima pyres
Twenty two dead in Manchester
Twenty two dead in Manchester
Is it really true?
Is it really true?

Broken religion
Broken borders
Broken trust
Broken girl

What is the point of living anymore?
Planes and skyscrapers
Harbor infamy invaders
The god of Abraham silently weeps
The god of Abraham silently weeps
Can he hear you?
Can he hear you?

Broken world
Broken God
Broken belief
Broken girl

What is the point of dying anymore?
Suicide bomber
Children ******
Thou shalt not ****
Thou shalt not ****
It's nothing new
It's nothing new
SøułSurvivør Oct 2014
~~~



i am broken
i am broken
i'm a broken girl

I am tired
i am tried
of this cold cruel world

it is pointless
it is pointless
it's pointless it seems

when you're broken
when you're broken
and have no dreams

~~~

I am broken
i am broken
I'm a broken man

there is no one
there is no one
who really understands

how can i
how can i
live in this place?

the eternal
the eternal
rat........ race

~~~

I was broken
I was broken
for you my child

I lived here
I lived here
in this world so wild

I was beaten
I was beaten
and hung on a cross

I died
I died
for the lost

I know all
I know all
that you go through

when you're broken
when you're broken

I'LL RESCUE YOU



SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 20, 2014
This is a rewrite of a song
I wrote in 2009

It is posted for a poet friend...

Jesus was labeled illegitimate
From birth... which means he
Was ostracized

He spent many years alone

He never married

He was criticized and tempted
By trickery throughout His
Ministry... many of His followers
Abandoned Him... even His
Inner circle lacked faith
Didn't pray for Him during the
Most trying time of His
Short life... one denied Him

And one totally betrayed Him... with a KISS.

Most people know the rest
Of the story....

What did He say almost with
His final breath?

Father, FORGIVE THEM.
FOR THEY KNOW NOT
WHAT THEY DO...

HE FORGAVE US.
WHO ARE WE NOT
TO FORGIVE OURSELVES?
jaelyn Aug 2016
broken glass
at broken tables
with broken hearts
and broken thoughts

no one understands the broken

broken in the inside not the out
broken is the words you speak in quiet confidentiality
to a friend who will never quite understand

broken is crying at 2am
broken is staring at the razor in agony
knowing it causes more pain than relief
broken is feeling detached and fake

broken is not seeming broken
michelle Dec 2013
If you're a gas stove
I want to be propane
I want to fuel you.
And I know I sound pretentious
up here
making a stupid, messy stab
into the heart of poetry.
Forcing it to bleed
an open wound
I don't know how to do this
I don't know how to make you see
these ******* characters
that form words
when words morph into lines
then to stanzas
then a ******* poem.
Just a bunch of broken sentences
but I guess that's why
they say poetry is for broken people
to mend their broken hearts.
Love for the loveless
hope for the hopeless
poems are broken
just like all of us
us broken people with plastered smiles
and Hello-Kitty band-aids
holding together
our shattered hearts.
Such a beautiful art
to be so broken.
Like butterflies
fluttering in the calm breeze.
****.
I've always hated butterflies
and butterfly knives and butterfly band-aids.
So what am I going on about?
As my heart looks to my brain
it whispers softly,
"Shh...I got this."
Well then heart, might I ask you something?
What
The
****
What do you have?
My sanity, that's for sure.
Do you even understand what you're doing to me?
Huh? Do You?
No.
You don't see how when you break free
free of those butterfly band-aids holding you together
you're not fixed
you're still crumbling to ****
taking me down with you.
Because then my body
listens to you and says,
"Oh, I'd better crumble down too!"
STOP!
I don't want to be a ******* poem
full of pretentious *******
I don't want to be a broken sentence
maybe a cracked one.
Because let's be honest
a whole sentence isn't real
nothing is whole
there's always gotta be a crack
or a chip
which is what allows us to break
and to crumble
to become nothing
but charred remnants
we've all been thrown into a pit of fire
as people watch and laugh.
Like we're some sort of freak show!
Perhaps we are.
Put here to entertain.
When I was young,
I was scared of freak shows.
How could that lady bend like that?
Wouldn't that blade cut too deep into that man's esophagus?
Maybe that was the point
we want to feel
our days and nights are full of the same pointless banter.
Becoming so numb to who we are,
we long for a feeling of adrenaline
to corse through our veins
and assure us
we're alive.
You wake up and plaster on your best smile.
What if you don't?
What if you let yourself cry?
Well that, would be feeding yourself to the sharks.
They want to watch you bleed
and taste your pain between their teeth
as you slip down their throat
like you're the sword and they're the man in the freak show.
You're nothing of fear to them.
However
fear pulses through your veins
perhaps that's how you became so numb.
You feared the carnies in the freak show
and the strangers in the street
as their shoulders brushed against your's.
Raised in a bubble
but all bubbles POP
now don't they?
What they don't know
when all those sharks swallow you
is that you were never fixed
your insides are still a pile of broken shards of glass
so you're choked on
spit into the air
not even a ******* shark wants someone so broken.
So tell me now
why is poetry placed on such a high pedestal?
No one loves so broken a man
but they're mystified at the words one can place on paper
in broken sentences
to a ******* stanza
we gawk at the people
who's words flow like rivers
and eyes are nothing but black holes
poetry is supposed to be dark, deep.
But,
when you're truly so numb and empty,
do you have that depth?
I think so
I think that when you have an empty hole where your heart belongs
then you're able to feel the emptiness.
You plunge your hand into your chest
and brush the emptiness between your fingers
just like sifting pink sand at a tropical resort
little pieces of glass mixed in,
eating away at that hand
placing little cuts so you never forget
you're being branded on the outside
branded by the inside.
By the only one you cares
but also the only one who couldn't
give a **** if you live or die;
yourself.
Abandoned by the ones you love
rejection
your papers passed through
and they were slammed
with a big red stamp
reading,
NO.
They turned their backs
as you fell through fire
and met the devious sharks mouths
forever is a hollow word
filled with nothing but the air
they breathe out as
they whisper it into your mouth
the taste filling from them
to you
it seems like a kiss of life.
Giving you a reason to stay
but you notice something...
off
something strange
its like milky,
bittersweet chocolate
seeping into the cracks
in the lungs
you thought
would save you
but they only crack more
under the pressure of the slimy goo
and leave you wondering
your thoughts pounce at you
like a puma hunting prey.
Did they ever even love you?
no.
The bitter symphony of their voice
floods your thoughts
and you know
they never told you the truth
it was all
a trick
for a cliche
masquerade ball.
Michelle Greaves Sep 2010
Broken; Anything can be broken.
Broken hearts, broken promises.
Words can be broken,feelings can be broken.
Songs and poems can be broken.
Even lives can be broken.
The biggest thing is, people are broken.
Silence is broken, thoughts are broken,
Brokenness travels around everywhere.
Raven Apr 2018
Me
No food
No sleep
I can't let these things reach out and speak sweet lies
I can't let food call my name
I can't let sleep drown my thoughts

I shouldn't eat
I can't sleep

This is me

I am broken girl
Who can't eat
In fear I weigh too much

I am a broken girl who can't sleep
For my thoughts and memories
Haunt me too much

I am a broken girl who answers 'how are you?'
With 'I'm alright' even when I'm not even close
Because I don't want you to worry
I don't want you to fret
Over a broken soul

I am a broken girl who says 'I have been busy'
when someone asks me why I haven't done something
I have been busy just not in the way they think
I have been busy trying not to give into hunger
I have been busy fixating on how I'm broken
I have been busy
But not in the way they think

I am a broken girl who has let her demons
creep up on her too much

I am a broken girl who has surrendered
her soul

I am a broken girl who dates so she feels
worth something because I don't when I'm alone

I date because I need to depend on someone
Because I am not dependable for anyone
Let alone myself

I date so I can hear someone say I love you
So I can hear someone call me beautiful
Cute
Amazing
And so many other things
Even if I don't believe it

I am a broken girl who has lost so many relationships
Five to death
And so many others just because they left
I was no longer good enough
No longer happy enough
No longer
PRETENDING

I am a broken girl who pretends
And when I stop people leave

Because I am too broken

I am too clingy

I am too demanding

I'm just not enough

Or I'm too much

THIS IS ME

But no one sees
Until I let them

And when I do they worry

But please don't worry
Because you didn't when you didn't know
So why worry now?

I'm still the same me
You just couldn't see all the flaws that my eyes do

You don't see the way I do

I see a girl who's eyes are too big

I see a girl who isn't thin enough

I see a girl who's hair doesn't suit her no matter what

I see a girl with too many scars

I see a girl
But I don't

For all I can see now is a walking flaw

And no one knows that
THIS IS ME
April/ 19/ 2018/ 10:19 AM
Jacqui Sep 2013
Broken things are ugly
That is what they teach us.
They teach us to fix them,
Throw them out,
To buy something new.
But what happens when the broken things
Are irreplaceable?
When there is no more left on the shelves?
What happens when the  broken things
Cannot be fixed?
When everything is just so broken
And shattered.
But what happens when the broken things
Are us?
When the broken pieces are not a screen,
When the broken pieces are of a heart,
The bone
The skin.
When the broken pieces are invisible.
When you know it is damaged,
But you cannot see why.
You don’t know how to fix it.
What do you do
When the broken things
Are beautiful?
Do you love them?
Do you learn about the cracks?
Do you try to fix them?
Or do you try to find something less broken?
But nothing is more beautiful
Than something broken.
9/16/2013
Mark Villa May 2016
The days our hearts get broken are dark cold and rainy days
We stand there in silence watching what we love the most
slowly fade away
Beyond our control
Beyond our reach
Slowly slipping through our fingers

Can u tell
Where do broken hearts go to mend

Where do they go to be healed
Where do they go to be made whole
Where do they go to mend

Carrying the pain of losing
Holding the sorrows of precious things lost
Cradling the hurt of crushed dreams

Can u tell
Please tell
Where do broken hearts go to mend

Behind brightly painted masks  with plastic smiles
Rivers of tears are flowing
Laughter only echoes darkness and weeping

Do you know
Where do broken hearts go to mend

Broken promises and broken dreams
Tear souls into pieces
Sunny day smiles cannot hide the hurt and pain inside

Please tell
Where do broken hearts go to mend

They go to the ONE who willingly gave his heart to break
He has the most precious broken heart of all
Broken for all mankind
Broken for sin
Given to sorrow

Christ is where broken hearts  go to mend.
Alexis Peterson Oct 2013
Broken Pens
Broken Dreams
A whole shore full of broken rings
On the isle of broken things

Walk along the shores of broken rock
See the broken souls
Will yours belong there?
It is full of young and old

These souls have been shattered
Scarred too deep
for anyone to fix
here on the isle of broken things

Walk along the roads
They are littered with broken glass
You too will surely shatter
if you choose to walk this path

Broken hearts hold it together
Cemented with sadness and anger
These pains their only trade
There are many who live here
However they know not
Of this isle full of things just as broken as they

And if they did know
Would they continue to be
Here alone with you
On this isle of broken things
GreenTrees Dec 2014
A poem written while drunk and in under 3 minutes....


True Love will leave you broken

True Love will leave you broken

Unitl all the words remain unspoken



True Love will leave you broken

True Love will leave you broken

Until your hearts wide open


True Love will leave you broken

True Love will leave you broken

Will leave you standing at the door


True Love will leave you broken

True Love will leave you broken

Until it leaves you begging  for more



True Love will leave you broken

True Love will leave you broken


Until you can't take any more...

© Karl V. 2014
True love  the pain that I adore...
A broken window will want repair
And a broken arm must be treated with care
But what happens to a broken heart?

Do the shards come together and try to mend?
Do they search helplessly for what could have been?
Can anyone tell me how things will end,
For my broken heart?

Do the pieces separate, and freely roam?
Do they long for love, or wish to be alone?
Does anyone know how to make a home,
For my broken heart?

Will my eyes no longer twinkle and my mouth no longer smile?
Will I forget how to love, or be tender and mild?
Does anyone know what life will be while,
I have this broken heart?

Will its love flow out to the empty places in me?
Will my whole body know what it is to be warm and sweet?
Does anyone know the language or beat,
Of my broken heart?

Will all its pieces move as one?
Will they dream of what could be, what is, and what was?
Can anyone find a greater love,
Than that of a broken heart?

While some do not realize that a whole is but two halves
And with a broken heart, they forget how to laugh
So that is why I am proud to love and still have
My beautiful broken heart
Madeleine V H Jun 2013
And maybe we are all a little broken but that's okay because I know some people throw out their old broken things but others notice that they are broken and love them even more because they see the imperfections as beautiful. And there are others who look down at tiny little shattered pieces and get the glue and magnifying glass and get a table out they haven't seen in years and put all the pieces on it. And they sit down for hours and days putting it back together knowing that it will never be what everyone else sees as perfect again but it will be together and damaged but it will be loved. Because the first time it was created it was instantly whole and someone else thought it was good enough. But a lot of things are just good enough. Every single Hershey's kiss looks the same except for the ones labeled as mistakes. Those are less likely to occur. But if they turned out this way normally than we would consider our current norm abnormal. So then the normal would be abnormal and the abnormal would be normal. It's all perspective. So the guy who spent all that time fixing you thinks you're absurdly and absolutely perfect. Because he saw the broken bits that were your original as even better than the whole you started as. Some people just get a few cracks in shipping and some people want the discounted price. But you gotta find the ones who see scars as beauty marks. That's what it's all about. Perspective. We are like this because we aren't like everybody else. We have the abnormal make. We are the 3 am word fighters and the night riders. We are all the bad and the good and we speak in bittersweet tongues. Nobody can fix us because we aren't broken. We are disassembled and can build ourselves. We don't need anyone else's tool chest because we have one right below our rib cage. Our lungs are practically indestructible because they know just how sacred air can be. We are the strong because we've cried ourselves to sleep and thought that was normal. We are the ones who were told they were doing it wrong the first time they cut but were strong enough to realize that they were wrong and there is no right way to destroy yourself. We are the future. We are the pain. We are the daydreamers who know how brilliant the sky looks at 4:27 am east coast time in Atlanta. And just because we've thrown up in too many bathrooms and told too many family members we ate before we got there, that sure as hell doesn't mean we aren't craving life and have had too many heartaches for breakfast. We are the ones who rolled over in bed and realized that the boy was gone and that we would have to hug ourselves. My shoulders are strong from carrying the weight of the world. Our eyes think that floods are normal because that's all they have seen. I have lived my life walking along the train tracks trying to find a way to get home. All I have gotten is calluses on my feet and strangers dreams in my heart. We keep them there. We carry the letters of the broken hearted and deliver them to the lost. As we saved others we lost ourselves. And then we look up and see the stars and realize that there's this whole galaxy that we are. We are everyone's broken promises and expired wishes. We carry the spirits of the deceased and the never born. We hold on to the spirits of the people who changed. I've cried myself to sleep too many **** nights for one person so I know I am the embodied spirit of everyone who's never had a voice and everyone who has needed one. We are the ones who were pushed against a wall and didn't say no because we thought that was the only love we may ever get and didn't realize just how twisted it was to trust a boy who treated you like trash and to think his kisses were your anti depressants when they were your poison.  But then we wake up and push him off and say, "Boy, I don't need you. You were nothing but heartache and pain. You see these scars? Don't tell me to stop until you are there to take away the ******* blade. Do not tell me suicide is a joke because every single part of me has thought it was a blessing at one time or another. Do not ever touch me until the day you will not be repulsed by the blood or *****. Do not tell me you are not in to scars because that is all you have left on both my body and my heart."And we are the sad nights where the boy you just fell in love with leaves on a plane to go home to California. We are the tropical islands where we met the loves of our lives. I am the tears I shed on the balcony in the Bahamas the night I got so scared I may never see you again. I am the song I sang out to the tropical storm winds that night where I repeated, "love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." I am the same girl who pushed the tears off her cheeks after letting their significance sink in and put on her makeup to go out and fake a few smiles. We are the ones who take care of the drunk girl we just met even though the boy we love just left. We are the ones who love our fathers even though they’ve broken more than a few bones in their lifetime. We are the ones who have treasure chest souls where children hide their keepsakes so that in twenty five years they can tell the story of their discovery to a 6 year old little girl with huge green eyes. We are the freckles on the lonely girls shoulder that made a beautiful boy fall in love with her; yet she wishes she could erase them. And we are the long distance phone calls between broken lovers that last 1 hour and 6 minutes and deliver lost hopes and shattered promises. We are the weddings that unite two people who thought about stepping in front of buses just 8 years before. We are the ones who cried on bathroom floors thinking it was our fault but stopped when we thought someone would hear. We are those who never want to be seen as weak because we don't want anyone to figure out that we can't always hold it all together. We are the ones who are bones and flesh and have died because their souls and bodies were robbed of nutrients. We are the ones who bled out on the carpet and weren't found for days. We are the student deaths that never made the announcement and never got a commemorative tree. There is nothing beautiful about sadness. But there is something beautiful about watching destruction save itself. There's something beautiful about terrible moments that turn gorgeous. We are the thorns that were trimmed back too soon because no one ever realized we were a rose. And we were never broken. We just needed to be too many heroes at once. So sometimes we get stretched too thin because our souls are too wide. Because there are a lot of broken promises and heart breaks and love affairs and sad minds and beautiful days and long nights that we must embody. We are the ones who would never change being all those things because we like having an ever changing soul. We are the ones who must fight to live even though we have patchwork hearts and memories that are in love with romanticizing the past. We must fight because when we die, others die with us. All the things we have carried and delivered turn to ash and lay beside us in a velvet and oak box for the rest of eternity on the day we are lowered in to the ground. But in reality we know that things will get better because the grandmothers dreams of an education located in our left knee cap on the right hand side tell us to never give up. So that's what we do. We listen to the demons in our souls and the angels that also pay rent. But we carry all our memories even when they jab us in the ribs and make us believe that we will never breathe again. But we are breathing. We are living and the daughter we are yet to have needs us to tell her about the world. Because I pray she has a soul like mine so that I may show her that the world is both bitter and sweet but that every single thing looks better after thinking you'd seen the most beautiful thing in the world. So we keep these bodies and live our lives so that we may realize that there are many more parts of us that magnifying glasses don't show and pounds can't measure.  And we hold on for everyone but must learn to hold the firmest grip for ourselves. Because I will always love that boy who left the island with the crystal clear water and I will never forget the girl who told me I didn't destroy myself in the right way. And I am okay with that. I am okay with carrying these things. I am used to the weight of noth the beautiful and the terrible. And although it makes me feel empty at times, I realize that it is only because my ever hungry soul is still craving even more life.
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
the Broken Eyes..........rest
upon
the dreamless Dawn

she dresses hurriedly
she
must get to work
on time
or
her child
shall become homeless
and possibly die

the Eyes live above
her
Broken heart

still
she .........."goes on"

neither a hero nor fool

just another sad soul

like us

— The End —