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September Roses May 2018
How do I write in a poem that I am
        S C R E A M N G
How do I convey how  f r u s t r a t e d I am
How do I get you to know how
      o              u       i          g
c         n              s        n
                  f
        my mind is right now
How do I explain my writings of a crumbling sanity as poetic licence
      It becomes easy when nobody knows your how much of concealed life you really have
    
           My mother can't worry, She doesn't have such terrible thoughts


The bullets I try to use just ricochet around my skull blending my memories, rattling my thoughts.
My personality has died with my will to live
Carter Ginter May 2014
sure she's likeheaven but angels stillfall
sometimes
the risk is worth it all.
perfection or illusion
what an enticing delusion
nonetheless
the question proves a fight
do i potentially complicate her life
further
my thoughts reach oscillation
certain until uncertainty's persuasion
descends
a thought like no other
and soon follows another
quickly
they bounce through my mind
now it's even harder to find
a decision
left between cognitive dissonance
then suddenly in this instance
Nothing.
The (mostly)single word lines an go to both the preceding sentence and the following one. You could read it either way but those lines are intended to be read almost twice, in a way.
*the only reason the first line has words morphed together is because i needed the verse to stay within one line.
Ivana Rodriguez May 2018
I reached for the stars,
And I think I may have reached too far.
The stars, they blistered and scorched my hands,
While I was just trying to understand
Of why in the first place I was there;
Up in space throwing a glare
at the moon.

The moon who shun a godly, divine light,
And at night
Who was so bright, white,
And elegant.
Space who was dark, and as dim as my soul:
The colour of ash and coal.
I was just trying to obtain a stupid goal
That I had.

And the moon was white, and the space was black.
The stars were gold and I had my back
Towards the earth.
But the gold stars and the white moon were not all that
When they brought down an evil wrath
On me.
So the sun, who I actually feared,
Cradled and held me near.
Rocked me from side to side and called me dear.
Circled the earth and formed a year
To teach me that looks can be deceiving,
Misleading,
And can lead to infinte internall bleeding.
[yes, ik that the sun does not circle the earth, but it went w/ the poem so **** :)]
JayceeJellies Nov 2014
Is it wrong to feel mistreated?
To never be accepted?
I believe there's something wrong,
and I'm trying to stay strong.
But I'm not sure if I can deal with this anymore or any less.
JayceeJellies Dec 2014
You taught me how to be pro,
It's not like I was ever proficient,
Tibbers goes where he pleases.
But of course you knew that,

You've always been 100 percent-
Cheesey. And because of that,
You sound silly all the time.
Well, okay maybe that's a lie.

But you are a true goof ball.
And I know I'm a dork, but
You catch me when I fall.
And I love that about you.

Shh, that's supposed to be a secret.
Oh yeah, I mean.. it's not like I meant it.
We all know he's an idiot, right?
Wrong. But I won't keep going on.

What am I saying? My words are all over-
The place. Look me straight in the face.
I want you to know that I want to embrace-
You. But I'll give you your space, it's okay.

I don't need it.
My heart is
Complacent.
You are my-

Inspiration.

To land that stun.
You know I will.
We'll get the ****.
Don't say you're done.

We got this Thunder Lord,
Now don't be blunt.
Tell me your opinons,
You know I want to hear em'

Whether it's about past topics,
Or about what I'm writing.
Tell me what you think about-
Anything, just don't get toxic.
I jumped in, right to
Pooling thoughts, I'd discarded,
Help me feel again-
Miss Saitwal Jul 2018
That workaholic lady who's always on call
& keep up with the market cells,
That newly married lady with chunky "red bangles"
talking to her husband with both earphones and blush on.

That man with a big fat stomach filled with his wife's love;
That teen who is on the edge of being deaf
because he can't do without the earphones.

That struggler who always stands at the back door;
That dreamer who's lost looking outside the window;
That person who's scared to get lost so stay active on the maps;
That disturbed mind who is coping up listening to George Michael;
That overworked soul who can crash anywhere.

That lady who choose to sit and freeze to death under a broken A/C unit, rather than stand with a five kilo backpack in a crowded jungle.
That girl who eats like a thief by hiding her food in the bag;
That tall enthusiastic freak who swings
and does gymnastics in a moving bus.

That granny who spot more trends than teens and follows them;
That old man who still can't keep up with the uneven roads
and the confused climate of Bombay.

That teen who lives with/on an Ipod,
instead of the 90s kids who survived on colouring books;
Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in the still crowd by surpassing like electrons to the magnetic field.

That man who is inspired by Raju Rastogi from 3 Idiots,
chanting to death and can't stop stressing on his responsibilities;
That entrepreneur with a head held high and red lipstick,
who never believes in a 9 to 5 corporate "mistake",

That blogger who can't think offline and is born to shine on the Gram,
That man who switches from Linkedln to South Indian action movie when the masses exit.
thejohnags Jul 2018
you're lost in the wild
you don't know where you are,
you don't know what to do,
so you're dying in the dark.

you're looking for a trace
you're looking for a place,
but all you get is this maze
you should've seen your face
you got burned, got cornered
no turns, just liars.

and when you try to seek out the exit,
you find the monsters in your closet
smiling, waiting, hungry to dive in
you can run, but you can't hide
you can try, but you'll be found

so you're lonely in the streets,
you've been sleeping there, no sheets
you're looking for a mirror, looking for a lover,
looking for a mother, looking for a savior,
but you're alone, child.
but are you lone, child?
are you gonna cry now? be brave child.

the time is ticking
this game you're playing,
it's never ending,
but try to win it.

you say you're fine,
but you hope with fright.
you curse your life,
cuz it's killing you with pride.

the door is open,
but the sign says closed
your heart is breaking,
but you got no one to hold.

so you hold onto your dreams:
bright, and thriving lights, NYC
but is it worth it? can you chase it?
can you catch it? or miss all of it?

you sit in the corner of the bed
you're thinking about life, you're thinking about death
you're thinking about your friends, you're thinking about your family
when you thought of yourself, you thought of yourself lastly.

you sit and think about living
what to do to learn? what to do to earn?
how to keep up the pace?
how to dance in the rain?
and why are you lonely in this sick, crazy game?

so you wake up in the streets
the air is warm, so you smile, and you breathe
looking for dime, looking for a rhyme,
looking for more time, looking for your prime

looking for a flower,
looking for a paper,
cuz that is what you're best at:
painting words then you're a goner.
What an ironic place of mind
When something I've wanted for awhile
Finally presents itself
And I'm overwhelmed so intensely
By anxiety and sadness

How long have I hoped to meet up?
How many times had I mentioned coffee?
Yet here I am
Three days before I see you
For the first time in a year and a half
And I feel so sad

It's as though
I am finally mourning the loss
Of someone who was my best friend
Finally letting myself feel about you
All of the things I've repressed

It has been a long time
We both must be so different now
What would that mean for this?
Do we meet up once
Play a game of catch up
Then resume the path of strangers?
Or do we try to be friends again
And run the risk of pain and heartache?

Does our intense shared anxiety
At just the sight of each other
Signal a similar message
A similar desire within us both?
Or am I stuck within a fantasy
Lying to myself that this could work
That you could be in my life again

We were not made to be lovers
And I don't believe in happenstance
I do think we came together for a reason
Just as we've become reconnected now
The city may be small
But this has to be more than coincidence
You were my best friend back then
And I know I hurt you deeply
But part of me hasn't stopped believing
That our lives staying connected
Is something that's meant to be

And I know that
When I'm sitting anxiously in my car
Outside the cafe where we're set to meet
Thoughts racing faster than my heart beats
I'll have to fully prepare myself
To find out that you disagree
ryn Nov 2014
Have you seen it?
Seems like I've misplaced my mind.

I had it for a while...
Now it seems like I'm flying blind.

Can't piece out my thoughts,
a cacophony of riled up birds.

An **** of broken lines...
Overlapping and blurring into incomprehensible words.

Wandered in almost every direction,
but seem stumped at every end.

My mind is rapidly turning,
more foe and less a friend.

Confused is what it is at best.
Derailed far from its once reliable track.

Need to quickly regain my centre,
need desperately to get it all back.

Conjured this up...
With much difficulty.

Strenuous exercise...
For what once flowed freely.

Could it be...
That I have too frequently misused.

The welcome I've received,
that I have carelessly abused.

Ugh... Makes no sense...
Never have for a while.

Conflicting thoughts and words.
Crash into each other into a pile.

Need a reboot,
a reset and a restart.

Need to find my muse,
that stems from the heart.

Curse the mundane!
These excruciating hours of the day.

Begging for the nights,
to take me and my mind away.
Susanna Jul 2018
I guess this is what a real life existential crisis feels like.
What I know now I did not know before.
Small bits of thought swirl through my head,
A tornado of broken glass.
And now that the wind has settled,
I struggle to fit the pieces together
In a way that would resemble a window
Through which I might view myself.
ouch
sara Jun 2014
I swore that I knew you
just like the back of my hand
every blemish, every freckle,
every scar, was you

But now
My blemishes begin to even out
My freckles, rearranging themselves
And any old scars are fading.
She Writes Sep 2018
Should I believe in a higher power
That I can not touch, see, or feel?
That lets innocent people be broken
Then worship him to heal

Should I trust that he is the reason
That I live every day
If I need a miracle
Drop down on my knees and pray

I don’t know how I feel
Or what I should believe
My god had forsaken me
Left me feeling naive

I want to trust
That he has purpose for me
From this indecision
I long to be free

Is blind faith a sign
Of strength or weakness
This indecision
Leaves me sleepless
elaine Sep 2018
they tell me, 'just follow your heart, it will tell you what to do'.
but what if my heart is just as silent as a gust of wind? what if i can't follow my heart simply because it is standing still, not moving a muscle?
what if i have absolutely no idea what to do?
my heart is a labyrinth, and it switches  every few seconds. my mind is a tangled mess of yarn. and i am left quite confused.

so, i'm sorry but i don't know if this is love, or if my heart is playing games.
i'm sorry but my feelings are quite hard to read, come back later?
Advent Oct 2014
so tell me,
what are we?

black or white?
yes or no?
living or dead?

we can't get stuck in between

not in grays,
in maybes
or in hell


a.t.
Robert G Page Mar 2013
by
rgpage.

..his feet implanted steadfast
in the pessimism of his soul.
his wandering is for naught
lest he fall short his final goal.

arms made once for reaching
hang lifeless at his side.
hands once firm and strong
now weak through injured pride.

eyes which scan horizons
for good which lay ahead.
now scan the barren waste of life
so fruitless and so dead.

a heart once big enough to house
the world so innocent from birth.
let not this heart partake in now
love's merriment and mirth.

his mind his final touch with life
the leader of his soul.
now weak or dead through inner strife
can't reach a single goal.

is there a God so cruel
to make this jest of life?
man is God's finest tool,
if this is so than why?
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