"coverups" poems - Hello Poetry

Penny got married young, she idolised her new man Penny turned 16, said, I do I do, priest wed them both Penny was happy, never complained to anyone, too shy for that She crashed a party once, and met a gal named Sally They became friends And she confided in her Shared little secrets, lips sealed, shook their little pinkies, never to tell Then hubby walked in with curious smile, said you going to stay awhile I'm not coming back until sunlight, best thing Penny had heard all night ‘Cause her new beau, wasn’t all that he seemed But only Penny knows so go go go oh no go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle-up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup Penny started staying inside, never going past the front gate Some friends called saying you ok you ok you ok girlfriend Penny searched websites, looking for a way out, deleting history, nobody got suspicious While trying to play the good wife, reality started to sink in Then she thought Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup And I don't want anyone knowing about the abuse, just in case I've covered up since day one, swollen face A nightmare, ever since our honeymoon Childhood dreams were locked in a cell, but kept them alive and still didn’t tell, even while being slammed unconscious It's like my security blanket, it's the reason that I'm alive Everyone has childhood dreams, but most will never survive They don’t always come true, maybe one out of five, be wise Believing Hollywood tabloids, that they are still very much together, all lies So go about your ways, put up with the one, that doesn’t love you anymore and continually hurts us and says sorry, again Always just after they have, again bruised us Forgetting about the pain and coverups that were made Thinking it was just a sleeping nightmare, oh no Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup Go now, Go now Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup Go now, Go now

0

Jan 14, 2020

Jan 14, 2020 at 1:58 AM UTC

The world is too uncertain for us to be sure of anything. Personally I don't think there is an absolute truth. There I said it. Take me away Nietzsche, I'm with you on this one. We are all so different, all so set apart in our unique, frail and wicked mortality. To have one single frame of existence is debilitating. If this difference is so telling of our humanity then why the hell do we have truth? To what purpose? To contain and unite us despite our individuality? Suppose the truth is given this way: A newborn and a goat are expected to survive with just a small patch of grass. Which of the two gets more chance of survival and existential fulfillment? How can that be when those two are apples and oranges? Their circumstances are so opposite. How is life supposed to be fair to the newborn? I am not saying that life is fair because hell it is far from it. But do we accept that unfair principle or make our lives a little better? Will his happiness be on that grass as well? Of course not. So he looks for new ways to be happy. He has his own truth. To this end, I have questioned everything from my faith, to myself, to people, to science even. Life grows along with time and so are our realities. This is why these past few months I've been contradicting myself to the point of thinking I've gone mad. But the fact is I've grown from these experiences of letting my two polar opposites meet. It is honestly scary when these inner voices start jabbing at you like pointed needles.I am a walking contradiction and my mind is a maze of paradoxes and questions with no answers. Eventually, I got used to this mentally exhausting activity. When something entirely different from what I believe be it an opinion, an idea, or a controversy) speaks up in my face I've learned to accept them not as the truth but as possibilities that could very well be right or wrong. I will never be always right. People are so used to the concept of certainty that we have altogether ignored the existence of possibility. Or the gray area to which simply no one end exists. I realized that we are all predisposed to find answers, to hang on to some sort of explanation to a world so phenomenally ungraspable. It is to the detriment of our open mindedness enough for us to fabricate truths which may very well be coverups for the all too universal fear of the unknown. We are afraid of floating in the ambiguous nature of our lives that we'd rather correct this with assumptions.

0

Oct 15, 2015

Oct 15, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC

lovelychickenbones

Rant # 003: Struggles of a Chronic Overthinker

The world is too uncertain for us to be sure of anything. Personally I don't think there is an absolute truth. There I said it. Take me away Nietzsche, I'm with you on this one. We are all so different, all so set apart in our unique, frail and wicked mortality. To have one single frame of existence is debilitating. If this difference is so telling of our humanity then why the hell do we have truth? To what purpose? To contain and unite us despite our individuality? Suppose the truth is given this way: A newborn and a goat are expected to survive with just a small patch of grass. Which of the two gets more chance of survival and existential fulfillment? How can that be when those two are apples and oranges? Their circumstances are so opposite. How is life supposed to be fair to the newborn? I am not saying that life is fair because hell it is far from it. But do we accept that unfair principle or make our lives a little better? Will his happiness be on that grass as well? Of course not. So he looks for new ways to be happy. He has his own truth. To this end, I have questioned everything from my faith, to myself, to people, to science even. Life grows along with time and so are our realities. This is why these past few months I've been contradicting myself to the point of thinking I've gone mad. But the fact is I've grown from these experiences of letting my two polar opposites meet. It is honestly scary when these inner voices start jabbing at you like pointed needles.I am a walking contradiction and my mind is a maze of paradoxes and questions with no answers. Eventually, I got used to this mentally exhausting activity. When something entirely different from what I believe be it an opinion, an idea, or a controversy) speaks up in my face I've learned to accept them not as the truth but as possibilities that could very well be right or wrong. I will never be always right. People are so used to the concept of certainty that we have altogether ignored the existence of possibility. Or the gray area to which simply no one end exists. I realized that we are all predisposed to find answers, to hang on to some sort of explanation to a world so phenomenally ungraspable. It is to the detriment of our open mindedness enough for us to fabricate truths which may very well be coverups for the all too universal fear of the unknown. We are afraid of floating in the ambiguous nature of our lives that we'd rather correct this with assumptions.

3

~ Coverups and bikini strings Swimming trunks and surfboards Glow sticks and wristbands Fireflies competing with bonfires Beer bottles half buried in sand Memories of those June nights Forgotten in this bitter cold ~

0

Oct 30, 2018

Oct 30, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC

painfultruths

summer june nights

~ Coverups and bikini strings Swimming trunks and surfboards Glow sticks and wristbands Fireflies competing with bonfires Beer bottles half buried in sand Memories of those June nights Forgotten in this bitter cold ~

9

to cut. to open up veins and let the reddened river rush, releasing me. to have the sobering throb of sliced skin dull the agonizing ache from within. it was my little secret. self-harming is a taboo subject. viewed as having no control over emotions or thoughts...well, i guess they weren't wrong. in the davis household, we do no have room for feelings. we were trained not to bring unpleasantries to the table because heaven forbid someone became uncomfortable. heaven forbid if someone caught a glimpse of the tiresome face behind the painted porcelain. in middle school, the sickness started. the tumor grew inside my chest, making the task unbearably difficult to just simply live. impossible to drag myself out of bed because i couldn't find one ******* reason to pick myself up and face the day. it metastasized to consume my body. everywhere the darkness touched. blinded my eyes and deafened my ears to where i was left alone with it. i became bitter due to the obvious state i was in. scars and fresh gashes striped my wrists and legs, razorblades and knifes left on the nightstand. few would ask and fewer i would tell, offering half-assed coverups. but they bought the weak stories because if they didn't, they would become involved. heaven forbid. and my parents didn't notice a single thing as i was destroying myself before their eyes. all i needed was for someone to reach out. someone to care enough to tell me to stop. to grab the blade from my hand, look into my swollen eyes, and tell me that i deserved better. that i was worth more. to say that they loved me. they took me to therapy because i needed to talk when i have been screaming this whole time, they just never listened. so uncomfortable in my sobriety, i searched for any escape. anything to distract me from myself. and i sought for love, because i thought that was what was going to save me. but all paths, rocky and disastrous, led to dead ends and i found myself more alone than ever. i needed love. but i looked for it in all the wrong places. i would not find love in the stranger laying next to me. i would not find love in the meaningless touch of another. i couldn't. i had to find it in myself.because the love of yourself offers the sturdy foundation on which others can build. without that, the wall that they had constructed would be in vain, collapsing with the slightest gust of wind. we were taught that to be alone is a failure when in fact, the real failure is being unable to be alone.

0

Jan 6, 2014

Jan 6, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC

amdavis

to love

to cut. to open up veins and let the reddened river rush, releasing me. to have the sobering throb of sliced skin dull the agonizing ache from within. it was my little secret. self-harming is a taboo subject. viewed as having no control over emotions or thoughts...well, i guess they weren't wrong. in the davis household, we do no have room for feelings. we were trained not to bring unpleasantries to the table because heaven forbid someone became uncomfortable. heaven forbid if someone caught a glimpse of the tiresome face behind the painted porcelain. in middle school, the sickness started. the tumor grew inside my chest, making the task unbearably difficult to just simply live. impossible to drag myself out of bed because i couldn't find one ******* reason to pick myself up and face the day. it metastasized to consume my body. everywhere the darkness touched. blinded my eyes and deafened my ears to where i was left alone with it. i became bitter due to the obvious state i was in. scars and fresh gashes striped my wrists and legs, razorblades and knifes left on the nightstand. few would ask and fewer i would tell, offering half-assed coverups. but they bought the weak stories because if they didn't, they would become involved. heaven forbid. and my parents didn't notice a single thing as i was destroying myself before their eyes. all i needed was for someone to reach out. someone to care enough to tell me to stop. to grab the blade from my hand, look into my swollen eyes, and tell me that i deserved better. that i was worth more. to say that they loved me. they took me to therapy because i needed to talk when i have been screaming this whole time, they just never listened. so uncomfortable in my sobriety, i searched for any escape. anything to distract me from myself. and i sought for love, because i thought that was what was going to save me. but all paths, rocky and disastrous, led to dead ends and i found myself more alone than ever. i needed love. but i looked for it in all the wrong places. i would not find love in the stranger laying next to me. i would not find love in the meaningless touch of another. i couldn't. i had to find it in myself.because the love of yourself offers the sturdy foundation on which others can build. without that, the wall that they had constructed would be in vain, collapsing with the slightest gust of wind. we were taught that to be alone is a failure when in fact, the real failure is being unable to be alone.

5

Our hot girl summer rolls on - like lava downhill or male models doing - anything. We’re in Athens, Georgia, yes, it’s hotter elsewhere - but you can die in the sun - is this really a competition? Fashionistas and trendsetters are adorning themselves in fluorescent lime green this summer. Making it the must-have statement color for the cool kid's club. The whole aesthetic was inspired by Charli XCX’s lime-green album cover for ‘Brat.’ Now, before you roll your eyes at the state of America, where silly people are bilked by influencers - isn't that what happened in the 60s with ‘flower-power?’ Wasn’t that ‘counterculture’ flagging, where everything from school buses to bikinis were flower adorned, driven by bands like the Beatles and umm.. [fill in the blank]? So, we tripped (sounded psychedelic) to the mall of Georgia, to shop for unnecessary, lime-green things. Nail polish (which I think eats), beach bags, coverups, Crocs, friendship bracelets (cause we’re 13-year-olds), Cinnabon's - which aren’t technically green but are delicious and the Apple store - because it makes us happy. I’ve read, or heard it said that “malls are dying.” Not this one, on a weekday mid-morning it was packed. The line for the eighteen-movie-plex looked like Spring Festival (Chinese New Years) at the Beijing airport. Sadly, it’s time to admit that as 20-year-olds we’ve aged out of the “Clare’s” esthetic. A 12-year-old in line to get her ears pierced, looked at me, while I was looking at friendship bracelets, like I was her grandmother and I felt it - it was real. . . Two songs to go with this: This Girl's In Love (Live At HMH) by Trijntje Oosterhuis Riviera Life by Caro Emerald

0

Jul 12, 2024

Jul 12, 2024 at 1:38 PM UTC

anaisvionet

hot girl summer

Our hot girl summer rolls on - like lava downhill or male models doing - anything. We’re in Athens, Georgia, yes, it’s hotter elsewhere - but you can die in the sun - is this really a competition? Fashionistas and trendsetters are adorning themselves in fluorescent lime green this summer. Making it the must-have statement color for the cool kid's club. The whole aesthetic was inspired by Charli XCX’s lime-green album cover for ‘Brat.’ Now, before you roll your eyes at the state of America, where silly people are bilked by influencers - isn't that what happened in the 60s with ‘flower-power?’ Wasn’t that ‘counterculture’ flagging, where everything from school buses to bikinis were flower adorned, driven by bands like the Beatles and umm.. [fill in the blank]? So, we tripped (sounded psychedelic) to the mall of Georgia, to shop for unnecessary, lime-green things. Nail polish (which I think eats), beach bags, coverups, Crocs, friendship bracelets (cause we’re 13-year-olds), Cinnabon's - which aren’t technically green but are delicious and the Apple store - because it makes us happy. I’ve read, or heard it said that “malls are dying.” Not this one, on a weekday mid-morning it was packed. The line for the eighteen-movie-plex looked like Spring Festival (Chinese New Years) at the Beijing airport. Sadly, it’s time to admit that as 20-year-olds we’ve aged out of the “Clare’s” esthetic. A 12-year-old in line to get her ears pierced, looked at me, while I was looking at friendship bracelets, like I was her grandmother and I felt it - it was real. . . Two songs to go with this: This Girl's In Love (Live At HMH) by Trijntje Oosterhuis Riviera Life by Caro Emerald

12

Smile even as the tears fall When you're alone and no one can see the beauty The real, the ugly truth That you've hidden for so long Stop trying to be so strong Stop, slow down and breathe Open your eyes, let go of everything and smile You are messy, and all alone But be brave and stand Show your scars, no coverups There's no need to be scared No need to be tough Just smile you are enough.

0

May 22, 2017

May 22, 2017 at 8:40 PM UTC

dawynshunter

For sad days

Smile even as the tears fall When you're alone and no one can see the beauty The real, the ugly truth That you've hidden for so long Stop trying to be so strong Stop, slow down and breathe Open your eyes, let go of everything and smile You are messy, and all alone But be brave and stand Show your scars, no coverups There's no need to be scared No need to be tough Just smile you are enough.

14

Whoever told you time heals wounds, they were lying. Time doesn't heal wounds. Time just adds things to them. Covering them up. They are still there. The wounds remain no matter how many distractions Time adds. No matter how many things Time has piled over a wound it can take only one thing for all those coverups to dissipate. Time only distracts you from your wounds. You must heal your wounds. Because in the end there is only you. Time can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself

0

Jan 9, 2019

Jan 9, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC

writes44

Wounds

Whoever told you time heals wounds, they were lying. Time doesn't heal wounds. Time just adds things to them. Covering them up. They are still there. The wounds remain no matter how many distractions Time adds. No matter how many things Time has piled over a wound it can take only one thing for all those coverups to dissipate. Time only distracts you from your wounds. You must heal your wounds. Because in the end there is only you. Time can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself

1

Chad Chandler camped circa Corpus Christi Cuando comunicaba con Cristoph. Christoph came calling, charging, Contacting community control centers. Chad coerced Chris coughing crimson color Chewing cold coils connected, contorted, Conquering camping copycats cooking cats. Columnist Coolidge campaigned costly cottages Coupled countering cowardly coverups. Craving cream cheese, Coolidge creeped critics, Croaking cringilly crossing crunchy crumples.

0

Apr 2, 2019

Apr 2, 2019 at 9:18 PM UTC

Ithaca

C

Chad Chandler camped circa Corpus Christi Cuando comunicaba con Cristoph. Christoph came calling, charging, Contacting community control centers. Chad coerced Chris coughing crimson color Chewing cold coils connected, contorted, Conquering camping copycats cooking cats. Columnist Coolidge campaigned costly cottages Coupled countering cowardly coverups. Craving cream cheese, Coolidge creeped critics, Croaking cringilly crossing crunchy crumples.

11