Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
AS Oct 5
She's a wandering child,
Emotionally in her mind.
With a continuation to react wild,
Even though she has lived over half her life.
Defeated by her pride,
Her tongue lighting others on fire.

As the years go by,
She tires,
After years locked in by her lies and fears.
Others keeping away,
Due the pain she irradiates.
Never apologising or claiming her mistakes.

Seriously what a life,
Inflicted from her own rife,
She pushes her life and others away.
Through the cruelties she displays,
Everyone distancing themselves day
By day.

What an existence!
For life to become
This way.
No hate,
Just pity.
By her actions,
Karmatic consequences finally caught Up.

All she needed to do was learn,  
To control when she errupts.
To not take victim,
For her own mistakes.
Collapsing in floods and launching emotional chemical attacks.
Whenever anyone reacts,
To the cruelties she enacts.

A lonely life she lays in,
No one staying in the long-term.
Due how she inflicts and burns,
But sadly she never learns.
The long-term friends and family who remain,
Are the ones who do not see her every day.

They humour in her company,
To hold her viscous spikes at bay.
Watching every word and step they make.
Others keep her around,
As she really knows how to entertain,
As she struggles to show reframe.

Sadness she'll be lonely,
In her ending days.
Shallow and new relationships,
Who have only met her mask.
A caring,
Beautifully worded image in tact.
Once Entangled in her dream like
Drama infested and
Covered in deceit spread.

Her posionous fangs,
Will ***** only bit by bit.
Once recognised years have gone by,
After being bewitched by her lies.
Hopefully it won't be too late,
No one attached,
To reach the fitting emotional states.

Feeding and shaming,
Until you're falling down her
Whirlwind drain.
Even though she's poison,
She makes you love and adore her either way.

Sadly everyone discovers this,
Usually when it's too late.
All she does is alienate,
Even when others constructively tell
Her of her destructive ways.

She is like the sun,
Giver of life.
Once too close,
You burn to crisp.
Cancerous without protection,
To your mind and soul.

Apart from all of this,
I dearly love her so.
So for my ownsake,
To mentally survive.
I watch from a far.

Hoping that her ways will change,
To fill her own void.
Not to keeping alienating or maiming,
Fracturing others lives.
For her to learn,
So she'll receive the wholeness she yearns.

This isn't a poem about hate,
Just pity and sadness
That it is too late.
Sealed and molded,
By her early dark fate.

From her,
I have learnt.
Not to become bitter or burn.
To not reflect her toxicating ways.
For me,
I hope it is not late too change.

A promise to search and reflect,
To hear all perceptions.
To grow,
Never to become that cruel.
To take accountability for all my
For everyone else's,
In which I love sakes.

There is only one moment,
In which I had a taste.
Gave her what she gives out in return,
In a quaking bout.

The guilt fell onto my being,
Haunted and spreading dizzy frenzies.
For moment I was her,
From that moment on,
I knew I must unlearn.
From the broken conditions learnt.

I never want to burn,
as bright as her.

To owning my earthquake's and
Keeping my feet firmly on earth.

© 2018

Abigail Sheard
Sorry for my essay!

Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
child of heart
but not of ****,
would i'd been
gifted to ban the
parasitic lies,
to shelter ears
& fragile petals
against bruising,
acts and words.
would i might be
gifted now to
soothe, cradling 
tender soul through
deadest night's
watery gloom.
yet firmly i know
none other will ever
be gifted to bestow
what only One balm
can perfectly renew,
and He waits for you,
my beautiful girl.
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Worship is the soul’s feasting upon that which it believes will fill it up
and we perpetually worship whatever we deem most worthy
of our attention and affection and sacrifice.
It is so firmly set in our very nature that at all times
we will be worshiping something
for the soul knows no other recourse.

There is only One worthy of such devotion
but if we aren't continually looking to and bowing down
to this One Who alone has the power to satisfy, heal and free us
we will automatically default to worshiping created things that then
have the power only to disappoint, damage and enslave us.
ryn Dec 2014
You are the sky
While I'm of dirt and earth
Sharing the universe in separate realms
Conflicting factions, diverse births

I would forever look up
Rest my gaze on the tide of the air
And dream for our eyes to meet
Temporary eternity that we would share

I've cried many a teardrop
But you can never know
Because to you they never could reach
For into my core they'd only flow

But when you stare down sullenly
Your tears would fall, soaking my plane
I'd drink the drops voraciously
Those gifts of love from heaven's rain

Your tears would nurture the seeds I've planted
They'd take root and flourish in the sun
Resolve in my soil held firmly in place
Thinking our journey forth would've then begun

Roots would give birth to stem
Which in turn, would branch out into leaves
Plantling will eventually grow up high
To give back the love, it constantly receives

Such misfortune little sprout
You can only grow so tall
You can never reach that far
You and I can only kiss the drops that fall

So... My beautiful sky of azure
I am but dust on fate's heavy feet
We can only look to the faraway horizon
Only there could heaven and earth truly meet
HR Dec 2017
i'm sorry
you couldn't find anything
to firmly grasp

i'm sorry
i couldn't be there
to hold you in my arms

“he's in a happier place”,
they tell me,
but i know it's not enough

when i know that,
without you,
my happy place is lost
Alex McQuate May 13
Great tragedy suffered,
Impossible circumstances conquered,
The warrior walks upon the field flanked path.

The wanderer's armor tells a tale,
Battle scarred and partially rent asunder,
A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath,
Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier.

The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world,
Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall.

A trickle becomes a downpour,
The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop,
The message firmly planted within their mind.

Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace,
Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped.

The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency.

The rain is cold upon the faces of those that it falls on,
The torn edges of metal digging in at places,
Some already wounded and tender,
As the final hilltop between them is crested.

The gates are closed,
And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out,
A fist is raised,
The declaration of allegience given,
An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted,
And a challenge of one's path,
Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth,
Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal.

A long ago promised gift to be rewarded,
For all the things endured,
Things that could be considered so cruel,
The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane,
As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released,
For the first and only time.

These things ringing out dispite the storms roaring wind,
Gathering force,
Perhaps in affirmation of the warriors words.

After a pause the gate begins to lift,
It's metal screeching,
The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the embattered soldier is bathed in light,
Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders,
As the threshold is finally crossed.
Next page