"fixable" poems
To be a human being is to be riddled with thousands of imperfections.
Full of flaws; scrapes, spots, and scars cover broken and bruised skin.
But robots need not fear and fret about fixable, trivial defections.
Humans perpetually throw themselves at cold, apathetic, greedy clinicians
Only to be given terrible news and told there is no cure for a horrid death.
Meanwhile, robots bask in the glow of love from a passionate technician.
Humans can never agree when it comes to the dealings of the heart.
Always one-sided, they take turns ruthlessly destroying each other.
Robots, oblivious to the issues of any and all feeling, live freely.
Naive humans will work tirelessly, only to see nothing but certain failure,
But life has never once benefited those of us who are currently living.
So, humans crafted robots, to always succeed where they could not.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
have you ever broken something and tried to put it back together?
you usually can't find every single piece
but you glue the bigger pieces together
it's not perfect but it doesn't look half bad
most people won't notice it's broken unless they look hard enough
and that's kind of how it was after you left
I was like a broken vase that you dropped on purpose
it may have taken 6 months for me to put most of the pieces back together
and I'm still missing some
but only a couple people had to look hard enough to notice such sadness in my eyes
and everytime I see the half broken vase in my hallway I smile
because even though it's missing some pieces it still stands
it may not be perfect but it's fixable
And it gives me hope that maybe one day I'll be okay
without you,
the missing piece
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
I’m paranoid that I’m being watched every second of everyday,
I’m paranoid that people can hear every word I say,
I’m paranoid that when someone likes me,
it’s fake,
and I’m paranoid that they’re all gonna leave one day.
I’m paranoid that I’m gonna die in my sleep.
I’m paranoid that everyone wants me dead.
I question every little thing if it’s reality,
or if it’s a lie that got out of hand.
I'm paranoid to talk to people in fear of rejection,
I’m paranoid to fall in love.
I might seem strong on the outside,
but my mind is just jumbled up lyrics that don’t make a song,
and thoughts that just keep echoing on and on,
life is a nightmare,
death is a dream,
because I’m scared things are not what they seem.
I want to open up my brain,
see what’s inside,
see if I really am out of mind.
What makes me tick,
what made my thoughts sick,
am I fixable,
or just a test of time,
will I get worse,
will I get better,
will my thoughts be forever jumbled together.
I want to know what makes us think what we do,
what controls our feelings,
our minds,
and holds them correctly like glue.
What fell out of place,
what happened in that empty space,
that our minds now fill with jumbled thoughts and different perceptions.
I want to fix me,
I want to know what I really am,
without these horrible thoughts haunting me,
taunting me,
without all the things that make me paranoid.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
Its lost in transient ideals
The vivid colours in changing scopes
- and the doors are all open
Its broken but fixable
Your system I mean
- Its corrosive
(Two men on a brick wall, blowing halted tunes through old whistles)
And the country is talking aloud
You can't complain that nobody listens
Wailing sirens in the dusk sky, saddened, non satiata
Will you trust these sounds at such volumes
It's deafening, the city when it cries
When she cries, when the city dies
When the government lies
When the government lies
- because they do lie
All of them
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
I always thought I was the only one protecting my heart with these walls
But what I saw that thursday made me rethink everything I ever thought of you
For the very first time, you looked vulnurable
like you wanted to hold me
just one last time
knowing that it was the last chance for us to speak up
and simply being honest with each other
But guess what?
We didn't
You just let me walk away from you
knowing that I was moving so far away
I always thought you just used me
while I really felt something for you
It was hard in the beginning
pretending like I just wanted your body
But I was happy with everything you gave me
even if your heart was like a vault
I surrounded my heart with these thick walls
guarding it, protecting it
Because if I ever was to love like I still love you
My heart would be broken
not fixable with glue
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
The man was distraught.
that she could clearly see.
The pretty young doctor
sat quietly behind her desk
as the man explained
his systems to her. In detail.
you see doctor
i **** all the time.
i mean wherever I am
In church at the movies
on a date in my office
everywhere
I have no control over the farts
he was almost weeping.
but be said there is one blessing.
they are silent and do not smell.
in fact I just dropped one now.
doctor. You have to help me.
she nodded in sympathy.
look it's fixable she said reassuringly .
take two of these pills
four times a day with food.
and come back to see me in a week.
five days later the man returned
in an awful state,totally distraught.
*** *** *** he wept.
whats the matter she asked.
those pills you gave me made it worse.
when I **** now it stenches
like a stagnant swamp.
You got to help me.
The young woman
smiled and said that's great.
we have fixed your nose.
now.
Lets work on those ears.
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
He was an alchemist,
Turning my lead tears to gold,
Because to him I was beautiful
To him I was worth more.
He was a metalsmith,
Fixing my broken copper wings
With tarnished feathers
Because to him, I could still fly.
He was a clockmaker
Resetting my fragmented cogs and beating pendulum
Spending hours and hours
Because to him I was fixable.
But I am a just broken clockwork angel
With lead tears, broken wings, and severed insides
Rusted away by time and life
And no amount of mending can save me
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
I tend to cry many a night
When things don't seem quite right
When hope, joy, and love
Bug me for a game of hide-and-seek
When all I want to do
Is drift off to a neverending sleep
I have many issues you see
And none of them are quite fixable by me
To the folks at home
Who are too engulfed by their pride
Why can't you see
I'm not taking in stride
I am sorry
I don't mean to disrespect
Only that you can't read my mind
(Will you please cut me some slack?)
To the father figure
I never had
You never called
Never asked
Never cared
(Where were you when things turned bad?)
Then when it comes to you
[My best friend, my lover]
I have to admit defeat,
Because although we're through
I am consumed with vorfreude when I think about you.
But indeed; you are right
By the unspoken rule we shall abide
The past and present shall not collide.
(Though you're still in my thoughts every night)
*
To everyone else
I respect,
cherish or adore
I apologize for being such a bore.
(And for using poetry as a vice)
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
All the poems about anxiety--
Never had I understood them until now
I'd warn my relatives and friends
I'm horribly stressed and agonizingly anxious--
And of course they'd nod and tell me
To calm down, it'd be alright
That I was overreacting
It was such a fixable plight
For years I've heard of the pain
Being alone, in an ableist world
**** it up! Don't you know?
You're life's so fortunate!
Some are beaten, some are starving,
Some are trapped in their lifeless bodies
You? You sit there, like a child,
Clasping your arms
Until red, raw bruises surface
Why on earth?
You're older now! Take care of yourself!*
So this is what the anxious experienced.
With this, they solemnly dealt.
So much of this I've heard about
Read and dreaded the talk
But now…
The fool I was, to never pay heed,
To never once ask if a friend is all right,
All fine,—of course not!
Still they’d ask for the sake of mine,
And never could I grant the slightest help for good return
Somedays I’ll watch people jest
Even with the severity of anxiety
Perhaps they’re coping,
But many fellows don’t manage the same
Now the public’s ignorance
Runs dry my bottle of patience
I won’t live until they know
The expense of their deplorable actions
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
Hearts made of glass
Fragile
Bright
Translucent
Small enough to hold in the palm of our hands
The glass is expensive
Irreplaceable in fact
Each type of heart is crafted
Each in different shapes
Sizes
Curves
Carefully crafted and molded
From two other glass hearts
That became one
It is given to us
As gifts
The twinkle in our eyes
Glows as we receive ours
The glass hearts react
To many different feelings
In sadness it takes the coating
Of your tears
And when it fades it hardens
And becomes stronger
When anger hits it
The glass heart will melt
Unable to take the heat
In happiness it will twinkle
Allowing it to shine through
The eyes of others
But as we grow older
We begin to learn
How we care for our hearts
Some of us are careful
Holding our hearts dearly
Cherishing it
So that it can be
Seen by all
Reachable by all
Available to view and to see
The insides and the outsides
Some of us are careless
Recklessly lending it to others
Throwing it
Shaking it
Using it for the wrong purposes
Until one day it breaks
And it needs to be fixed
The glass is fixable but
It never quite returns to its former translucence
The saddest of all though is when
We pretend it doesn't exist
It's when the glass heart fogs up
Not allowing others to see inside
The twinkle once there disappears
Replaced with something solid
The curves still there
The size still there
But in actuality what made something there
Is gone
It stays that way
Until one day
It shatters
And cannot be repaired
The gift of the glass heart
Must be remembered
It is fragile
Which makes caring for it hard
And though we can hate it for its fragility
We love it because of its translucent beauty
We love it because it makes the eyes on others smile and well as ourselves
We love it because it's us
And it's us that should never be clouded
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
If only you were a little less bent
Fixable
Like, a little less hollow
Gullible
"If only you would just! stop! thinking!
For once
You must be tired
I mean OH MY GAWD
Its like you're wired!
And like, your're way too cynical
Sarcastic, witty sure, but that's just
typical!
Arrogance, you think your're better-
than- Oh wait look at that hot guy,
his name is Brent-
Wait, wait
Now, what was it I was saying-
Yeah your'e like way too
cold, puts people off
Your're disarming...
No wait-I meant alarming
haha!
I mean smile, for once
Laugh at a joke!
Talk to the guys,
Gosh, you don't even ****
-All you do is mope,
I mean seriously c'mon
I'm trying to be nice
You have such potential!-"
-"shutup you dumb *****
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 11:28 PM UTC
We live in a world where some choose to sit idle by
as a cry for help is silenced by an obsession with wealth,
as mental health concerns suffers the silent treatment
and reason categorises wounds and scars to visible marks.
Sometimes the marks are visible, the physical projection of pain,
the doctors deem them fixable, as if the pain ingested
could be cured by a pill or an injection, it's reckless
to assume pain from a broken perspective.
It is not effective to judge what should and shouldn't hurt,
sometimes it just hurts, the dirt in a wound waiting to blister
like a twister caught between an earthquake and a tsunami,
an army of different antidepressants swallowed without hesitance,
but sometimes it still hurts. It just hurts.
We live in a world where suicide is one thing countries share in common,
and often we ask ourselves 'do politicians ever think about people?'
The feeble argument between money and lives, as the night
passes its light onto different matters. When a person falls in a forest,
can their cries for help be heard. The muttered words are non existent,
but the persistent debate of what is going to be next in the budget cut,
loses touch on what is really human; 'when are we going to fund the help
that mental health concerns deserve?'.
The children is our key to the future, like candles alighting tomorrow
so why are we letting mental illness blow out the lights.
The children is our key to the future, but what future must we share
if humanly care and compassion is missing from the equation,
a new train station will not provide a shoulder for those who need it,
is human kindness disappearing?
How many more lives must we watch perish?
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
i am cracked ribs when it's
raining and the road
is slick
with car oil-
car crashes.
stinking rubble,
the bottle of oxycontin
that rests by your bed,
cold dead feet motionless in the morgue.
i am the graceless stroke of a violin
in unpracticed hands,
the rip rip ripping of a dress
torn off,
the chill in winter breath.
you are the sun that found me
fixable,
not hopeless
or yellow addiction.
you were the cast that healed my broken
bones
piecing back together my
fragmented whole.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound
Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would
Be without it
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 5:41 AM UTC
my body is over flooding with heat,
from the temples to my fingertips,
as i lay, alone, on a damp sheet that's only cold.
my hands graze over the lips that once kissed your cheek,
to wipe away the water and forbid the taste,
when it sinks into the cracks it meets.
my skin, it's begging, a touch, a sign from you.
a simple clue can fix everything. right?
you think we aren't fixable?
is that why my fingers ache?
my neck wanting to break?
the prints that so desperately shake?
this heart is mourning for the part of you it once danced to.
xo
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
These thoughts and emotions have not found themselves in the stanzas
Of a poem in quite some time.
There was a time when they no longer
Needed to be; I was fine.
No longer did I hunger for lost love,
Hate myself for things I could not control;
I freed myself from inner-damnation.
Over time, however, I learned that not
Every problem was fixable in this way.
This black dog, ball-and-chain, shadow Monster always finds its way into my life,
Forcing its repulsive manner upon me.
Everyday, I am followed and taunted by
This thing I cannot see, but I feel
So strong, overbearing, dominating.
This horrible manifestation has been
Present throughout my existence, but now,
I am brought down so much lower than Ever before, I am at its will.
I am stricken, beaten, tortured.
I was fine.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
The cold hearted boy who stole a kiss. Plenty a times I had been so wise, that's before I fell for those hazel eyes. The eyes that held the secrets which lead to your lies. Those lies that I despise but it didn't matter in the eyes of the cold hearted boy. As the space between us grew the hole in my heart did too. Only was it fixable by you the cold hearted boy. The words that you threw oh those harsh words, oh there was nothing left to save in you. All that time you spent to be mine, I bet you almost convinced yourself. Scared you were, when not used to the feeling of affection. You used full force deflection and ran. It's your immediate reaction. With no idea of the of the trail of betrayal you left behind, you fled you cold hearted boy. But there is a knife built up of your guilt stuck in your chest. Impaling you shredded heart with each lie you speak. Never again shall I be so weak, to let a cold hearted boy take my hand and lead me to my bed. Where I shall spend my nights after crying for the loss of the cold hearted boy who treated me like nothing but a toy
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
To The Daughter I’ll Never Have:
I want you to know that I did my best. I fought for you, for the idea of our family. I stood up for what I felt was wrong. Giving up my selfish ways wasn't easy, but it was doable. You need to know there was a time when our world was fixable.
When I was a child this was paradise...
A cool Summer breeze was a stroll to the 100 foot Oak, drinking the sunlight.
The river was a new road in the December.
Spring was as full as your sinuses.
A dying Autumn took your focus away from mortality.
All at once we cut the trees to steal their fruit, broke the ice with our fast machines, killed the sheep that kept us warm and fed us, and remembered that we weren't invincible.
I can picture you now:
I loved the name Haley.
Your first words were "Daddy".
You walked into your first day of kindergarten fearless.
You had this ferocious spirit that let you go into any situation without any hesitation. You got that from your Mother.
I was always proud of you, no matter how much trouble you got yourself into. There was something special about you.
I can only dream of the life we'd have together but I fear for the stability of my world today. Not even today have I met your Mother but I know she fears the same for you. What will the world have left for you and those around you left the clean up the messes that those before us made?
It is on that note I regret to inform you that I may never have a chance to meet you.
My time will be spent gluing leaves to the trees.
I will carry polar bears on my back until it breaks, bees on my shoulders until they are stung and swollen, and love in my heart until it swells. While you and I may never meet here on earth, you need to know that this love will not go to waste. Every ounce of love I was supposed to give to you will be shared with everyone who cares about our world now.
Please forgive me for being selfish.
Love,
Daddy
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC
I know the monsters that hide,
Beneath my dreams and bed.
I know they are no match,
For the demons in my head.
Something in me shattered,
long ago when i was small.
It created an abyss,
And in the demons would crawl.
From apartment to apartment,
These demons and i traveled.
They told me i was the death,
Of my own dreams that were unraveled.
These demons, oh! These demons,
Were determined to ruin my health.
And in the 7th grade,
They made me starve myself.
Slowly i began to hate,
Everything i had become.
And the year i sliced my skin,
I knew the demons won.
But that was just a battle,
And i was about to declare war.
Many years I wasted,
In agony and fear.
And I knew from the beginning,
Life wouldn't be so pure.
Now i understand,
That what i have become,
Is fixable with time,
And **** I'm still so young.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Favorite excuse: I'm tired.
Works like a charm.
Everytime.
Ninetypercentofthetime.
I am tired from lack of sleep
I am tired of being soft-spoken, shy, unsure, standoffish, rude, ******
I am tired of people talking behind my back
I'm tired of talking behind their backs
I'm tired of being speechless; not knowing what to say,
how to say it...
when to say it.
I'm tired of talking to myself
[I like to think I'd love some company]
I'm tired of beating my brains out.
Tired of trying to spend time with people who don't want to spend time with me.
Tired of trying to find new friends [how many people live in the world? why am I alone?]
Tired of fake and fumbled attempts at fostering flailing and failing friendships.
I'm tired of being in a room full of people who see me but don't really see me;
who know me, but only a little. Hardly.
Who either hate or love what I am now
Who wish I'd go back to the precious, less-scary, much-more-approachable girl that I used to be.
The baby that they ooh'ed and ahh'ed and cuddled into this mush.
A mush that they could mold into anything
they wanted.
They pulled
my arms and stretched my legs.
They smoothed
and straightened "Ooh, yeah, that looks good," they'd murmur under hot, concentrated breath.
But after all, I was only a mush.
Not a tangible and workable [fixable] medium.
Not sugar, not spice, not everything nice; certainly NOT what little girls are made of.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
something is so wrong here it physically hurts
i think i could be fixed, you know. i could tell someone, they could fix me.
I think it could all go away
oh I'm so convinced. and oh, how perfect it would be
pure transparency
i'm so much uglier on the inside, if you can believe that...
And its fixable I swear it probably is, but
i'm scared of what i might become
I could be fixed, you know
*but then i'd lose it, all of the beauty,
i'm sure i wouldn't be able to see it anymore...*
So I'll stay broken
i told you, i'm masochistic
And so far form what you could ever think
you don't get it, no, not even you.
I'm sorry, I might have lead you to believe there was beauty here.
Gosh, if you only knew...
if you could understand, you'd run
like i want to
don't you see by now?
I've never said so much out loud.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
Today is my birthday,
And unsurprisingly
I haven't yet heard from my family.
I texted my twin
Late last night and early this morning,
But my texts have gone unanswered.
I miss her.
I miss all of them.
I was a fool of a child,
Writing all those stories
In which I'd leave them
And start over somewhere
Completely new
With people who didn't know my past
Or care.
All I wanted as a kid
Was to have a different family,
But now all I want is mine back.
It all went so very wrong,
And I don't know if I can fix it.
I don't know if it's even fixable.
I doubt that it is.
So all I'm left with are the memories.
It hurts, you know, to be left.
I think I always knew it would,
So I dreamed of doing the leaving,
But I loved them
And some part of me couldn't leave.
So I stayed
Until they had one by one left me.
I know it wasn't easy for them to stay.
Just because we're family
Doesn't mean that we're required
To stay in each other's lives.
But I chose to stay,
And it hurts
That they didn't choose the same.
I guess I should do what they have done:
Form a new family
With the people I want to be around
And who want to be around me.
But all I want is them.
I want to feel their arms wrap around me
In a great big hug.
I want to share
In their triumphs and successes;
I want to cry with them
In their failures and sorrows.
I want to laugh with them
The bellyaching, deep-chested guffaw.
I want to fall asleep
Knowing they are near.
I want to reach out and hold their hand,
And look down to see the skin
So similar in tone.
I want to eat a meal with them.
I want to hear the sound
Of our voices melded in harmony
Sing together.
But most of all,
I want to enfold them in my arms
And say, "I love you with all my heart."
And have them say it back or "Me too."
I want to know
They are safe and happy and healthy.
I want to soothe their fears and anxieties
With a hot cup of tea
And a good laugh or cry.
But most of all,
I want to look into their eyes,
To say nothing,
Just to gaze again at the depths there.
I want to stand with them
Through everything they face,
Shoulder their burdens,
Put a smile in their eyes.
But most of all,
I want us to say,
I love you.
I love you too.
I love you four.
I love you infinity.
I love you more.
I want them to know love--
Unconditional, freely-given,
Unyielding and unwavering love.
And I want them to see
They're my family,
And that I will love them.
Always.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
there's a lot of questions
regarding my heart
that remained unanswered.
is it made of fragile glass
or strong diamond?
is it fixable?
hammering nails
and drilling screws in
or we just glue it all back together?
what colour is my heart?
definitely not white.
is it red?
jet black?
or merely grey?
is it beating
or maybe sound i've been hearing
were the marching parade
to respect the death of my heart?
is it broken
or it was never complete?
but then if it's broken, how can it still beat?
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
Smile,
It's okay
Breath deep,
Don't you dare let that lip quiver
Stop
Think
Crash
Don't cry
It's okay
Just another lie
Mascara laced tears
But remember what they tell you
Everything will be okay
No matter how broken
Apparently it's fixable
I need to be fixed
Am I broken?
Or do I just need a fix?
Love
But don't get close
Hate
But don't be bitter
Don't forget to smile!
Back straight
Shoulders up
Chin high
Now just don't cry.
And most importantly
Remember
It's
All
Going
To
Be
Okay
Right?
*Smile away the pain,
They said it's going to be okay
But when?*
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Fragility is an electric blue
Shock in your system
From which you twist resistance
Gifted to hands open and begging
Consoling the green murkiness
Of people’s forced emptiness
Filling their scaffolding with
Temporary steadiness
Your abandonment shatters
Into heart shaped glass shards
He picks up even though they cut
And his blood brings no fear
Because your reality is malleable
And wounds are fixable
With scars becoming loopholes
Into worlds of distorted art
Branching out of lines protruding
Introducing your skin before your scars
I see the clearing of newly planted
Seeds of future possibility
In the words you gather
Passing by flowers scented with
All the aromas that haunt you
From your youth
Just to string a sentence
For one surrounded by the obtuse
Entirety of reigning bleakness
You are a beacon of what we
Dream to grow up to be
A star in the morning sky
You shine you shine you shine.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC