"dappy" poems
sad bad
so no sad
sad happy
happy flappy
flappy clappy
dappy slappy
spousal abuse
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
.............busy life...........
I'm gonna write a poem that has to rhyme.
It gotta be about why people has no time
Cuz everywhere I go everybody seems to be busy
With their work devoted or maybe lazy
Ignoring their love ones and making money
But they don't got time for that loving
honey
Some people are afraid of living
Because they're always busy in taking
And giving
Whenever I look around
I Listen people's simple walking sound
Moving here and there
But no one knows where
Forget you,
Is there somebody who is still waiting?
With whom you have to go for dating
People only want good food with delicious dish
To make you happy is not for what they wish
For they're just being selfish
Avoid ignorance and too much busyness
Give your time for someone's happiness
Being busy doesn't make you feel happy
That's why loosing focus and become dappy
I am not against that you will Everything delay
work while you work and play while play
Come on friends let us make a time
So, that can make our future go so bright and shine
So, tell me when we will meet?
To see each other and to greet.
......
......
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
Breaking out with my faults
I can't handle becoming an adult,
My scars are open
My life is determined by someone else' pen
There is no recovery from suicide
There is no place to hide.
I know that I've lived and fought
But what happens when you're a neet who takes bottles in one draught
When you give yourself less but everyone else so much more
Man life ***** when you're poor,
I hate the meds because it makes me feel weak, reliant and unhappy
Shoutout to Dappy.
I almost met my fate yesterday, oh what a feeling of ecstasy.
It almost seemed like a fantasy,
It isn't about the lie, it is how the truth is denied
It isn't about life, it is how you've lived with a knife.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
It’s one of those days where we’re polite
but we want to gather handfuls of ****
and **** it at the faces
of those who’ve known no sadness,
other than the dappy misery they’ve caused
to those, potential relations,
they told they loved.
I try to deny a bitterness
when I check every lock each night
including on my bins,
that each of us is the same
from birth
but the score of this whole game
starts on different tees.
See, we know.
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 1:04 PM UTC
There is a certain tragic beauty
to what I am able to create when my soul
craves the sadness and the madness
that has never been a stranger
But to that hidden side of the coin
the words come out stagnantly static
I write until my fingers bleed it seems
the end result being something for which I am content
Whenever I find my mind
seeking out everything that makes me smile
I dance around for what seems like forever
and all I wish to do is write things I'm experiencing
It may come out vanilla but the words
they flow like water, the inspiration is endless
when all I am is free to achieve
what I have meant to be
I have had my share of pain
and without it I would not be the same
so I thank the forces everyday
but welcome the good with open arms...
for the first time in my life.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC