"censuring" poems - Hello Poetry

For a moment I see my reflection in the dark glass I'm trapped in fog, my mind's murky With pieces of disconcerting thoughts Lost and wandering in thin air Caught in the middle of empty space Sadness sends a company Telling me same bad news How unfortunate these dreams are How ridiculous these feelings now Censuring my own beliefs Laughing at these wondrous desires But as my time does breathe And as my footsteps recognize their paths You'll picture my stoic face My head will point to the sky Here you can't break me Nothing in my mask will sag I will not cry until you tell me I'm hopeless

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Jan 10, 2014

Jan 10, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC

amber-moons

Dormant Tears

For a moment I see my reflection in the dark glass I'm trapped in fog, my mind's murky With pieces of disconcerting thoughts Lost and wandering in thin air Caught in the middle of empty space Sadness sends a company Telling me same bad news How unfortunate these dreams are How ridiculous these feelings now Censuring my own beliefs Laughing at these wondrous desires But as my time does breathe And as my footsteps recognize their paths You'll picture my stoic face My head will point to the sky Here you can't break me Nothing in my mask will sag I will not cry until you tell me I'm hopeless

19

You don't need all the negativity that you keep giving yourself. You don't need anyone but yourself. You need to shape up and start living your life again. You feel a lot. And that's okay. Stop censuring your words girl. Words are meant to be spoken. Speak Your Mind. If you don't, what good will come of your thoughts? Why let fear control your life? Even if you want everyone to be happy, there's a chance it won't happen. If you have days when you don't want to be happy, don't others deserve the same liberty and freedom? The answer is yes. Yes, they do. Even though you like to say impossible is nothing. Even though, not as much now, you try to strive towards making the impossible, possible. It may be better to strive to work within the realm of possibility.

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Feb 22, 2014

Feb 22, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC

elizabeth-petersen

A Pep Talk to Myself

You don't need all the negativity that you keep giving yourself. You don't need anyone but yourself. You need to shape up and start living your life again. You feel a lot. And that's okay. Stop censuring your words girl. Words are meant to be spoken. Speak Your Mind. If you don't, what good will come of your thoughts? Why let fear control your life? Even if you want everyone to be happy, there's a chance it won't happen. If you have days when you don't want to be happy, don't others deserve the same liberty and freedom? The answer is yes. Yes, they do. Even though you like to say impossible is nothing. Even though, not as much now, you try to strive towards making the impossible, possible. It may be better to strive to work within the realm of possibility.

28

Inside the box of dreams contingent to divergent nightmares In the confines of a large painting and solitude and suns You smell the beauty of her soluble features in the eyes as one Does it do to have a surplus of truth The ego of driving id letting your inner self spasm without word's worth and worthiness Relate to someone, whose heights you must torch and focus on oh so much Buffering winds and engulfing flames, and paint of wolf and werewolves The moist stench of inventiveness and red veritas of the current year, in the current art of the raw and cooked Often, thousands of years could be prepared, before you learn a decade of failure, brewing strangely Decadence doesn't exist in this defined structure wither the body withers in song and dance Sundry and adamantine guillotines do sew her flesh in hatchets, axes, and bows Arches and gallantry of cavalry in a dither and dearth dense censuring, of diseased purgatory Looking at yourself beyond the riches, and rags to ditches.

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Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC

aditya-roy

Culminating Purgatory

Inside the box of dreams contingent to divergent nightmares In the confines of a large painting and solitude and suns You smell the beauty of her soluble features in the eyes as one Does it do to have a surplus of truth The ego of driving id letting your inner self spasm without word's worth and worthiness Relate to someone, whose heights you must torch and focus on oh so much Buffering winds and engulfing flames, and paint of wolf and werewolves The moist stench of inventiveness and red veritas of the current year, in the current art of the raw and cooked Often, thousands of years could be prepared, before you learn a decade of failure, brewing strangely Decadence doesn't exist in this defined structure wither the body withers in song and dance Sundry and adamantine guillotines do sew her flesh in hatchets, axes, and bows Arches and gallantry of cavalry in a dither and dearth dense censuring, of diseased purgatory Looking at yourself beyond the riches, and rags to ditches.

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