"fuckboys" poems
Cause it’s all just paper in the end,
Were all just stuck here playing pretend.
Some of us acting like we god,
While other have never even heard of a ****** iPod.
We pray to that god at the end of the day,
And then curse his name if things don’t go our way.
We’re corrupted and ****** up, dishin’ out blame,
Wishing for superman, left with some ******* named...
Who gives a **** with his name if they’re all just fuckboys ,
Woman pick yourself up you’re repressed by the man, part of his ploy!
And were all stuck here playing pretend,
Might as well make you name a story for the end.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
They call me Dr.Strange because I don't thrive from the same ambition as the rest of my generation
I don't desire to **** every **** thing that walks and breathes
I was never a fan of getting high and skipping school
Hell the worse I've done is beat a ngga's *** for making a girl bleed
Yeah I'm so ******* hood, badass if you would
A permant resident of wish a ***** woods
Where we specialize in the art of whoop ***
But at the same time I am kind
As gentle as a cotton ball
I will protect those who cannot protect themselves
Instead of being that coward who is left asking what if
But don't get my kindness twisted thinking you can trample all over my tiny self
Stomping me into the ******* ground as if I'm some type seed
But if you still have the urge to try me get this image in your head
I will make sure my weeded foot travels up your *** and out of your mouth
I will not be afraid to rain down the scorching sensation of the hurt all over your flesh and bones
Causing you to sprout like a god **** bean stock as I just smile walking the opposite way
It is sad ****** these days try so hard to pretend to be all bad-ass, talking so much **** I don't know whether to give them tissue or breath mint
Then what makes it even funnier they beat on these young girls thinking it makes them look tough
But in actuality it makes them look that much more of a ******* to society
**** is this really what male *** have come down to
A mere nuisance to society
A nation of fuckboys and male hoes
Is that what we are really aiming for
sigh wow I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
They told me to take things back to the 90's
Take things back to the heart
Told me I should have done this from the start.
But the views from my six are contoured.
Covered in foundations of fuckboys, fuckgirls and blessers.
So tell me how do I express my heart when this generation believes the only functioning ***** should be brain,
Because heart will **** you
And the others are going to die from harmful ingestions.
They told me to take it back to the 90's.
Take things back to the heart.
So here I go.
The basis of my poetry has always been pain.
My heart and soul always confining in a dark pit of abyss.
My body constricted in a corner
Huddled up, popping everything it could.
Now the basis of this story isn't about you saving me,
But how you gave me your hand, shoulder, smile and wisdom to the path of saving.
Of how you opened your chest, tore out your ribcage and gave me your broken heart as you took mine.
Of how you taught me pain is inevitable but suffering is optional
Of how you showed me true love.
And how grateful I am.
In twenty four hours the heart beats 115200 times.
At least fifty percent of the time my heart skips a beat.
This means from 57600 beats and above are skipped.
A week consists of seven days
In hours that's approximately 168.
As like the first at least fifty percent is lost in thought of you
Which means 84hrs and above I think about you.
An average of all 12 months is approximately 140 days.
Okay skip the math, let's get straight to the conclusion.
Math is a fine art of illusion.
Filled with various abstract to distract you.
But the rule is you will always find your x.
The x that completes your equation.
So what I am saying is that you complete my equation of life
You're my X.
Literature teaches us to express our feelings in terms of literal devices.
From anecdotes, personification to lititoes.
It tells us to sing with our hearts,
Speak with our souls and allow our voices to do it all.
Like Christina Rossetti,
"My heart is like a singing bird"
"For my love has come to me"
Look truth is you give me butterflies.
You make my heart swell up in happiness.
You make me feel alive.
You make me stutter out of nervousness.
You make me want to impress you.
To always put a smile on that beautiful face.
You make me want to hear your laugh every single second.
You make me happy
Which makes me want to make you happy.
Because pain is a feeling we all get to experience
But happiness is rare and I want you to feel it.
What I am trying to say is
I'm taking it back to the 90's
To the early 2000's
To tell you, you're one in a million
That I'm stuck on you
And that I am madly in love with you.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
I know what caught your eye
Curved hips, dark hair and small dainty eyes
Aren't my eyes really something
You've probably never seen them though
Too busy looking at my chest
I love the way you call me baby
Sounds so sweet in your voice
The same voice you use on those 20 other girls
That's right I know
We all do, you're not really that clever
Well even if you're stupid at least you're cute
That silly smile of yours
And muscles for days
They really make up for the absolute lack of personality
But hey, at least you're a **** empty husk of a man
It's so sweet you're always willing to talk
Staying up late on the phone
Just get's tiresome with you always asking for nudes
I wish someone had taught you basic English
Maybe then you'd understand the word no
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
Goin down
Drowning out the sting
Salt water leaks
Burns like holy water
Not just from the cuts in my skin
In my spit
My eyes
Kept the straight jackets to make my masks
****** stitches, most favored gloss
Demonize pill popping even though it keeps the ******* behind the gates
Those ******* taste horrible with *****
Instead of getting **** faced to forget the artificial praise
Just throw em to the sea
Make sure it's the dead
Sleeping with the fishes and the girl I used to be
Better yet I’ll jump in hoping this is just a dream
Either its me dying in now or waking from vivid nothingness
But will it even be my own bed
His bed
Her bed
What the **** are these stains
Option 3: choking on thread and barfing up empty stomachs and swallowing my pride
Playing with fuckboys like a rejected barbie doll, a hallow head growing rhino horns
One hell of a drug
One hell of a *****
Pitchforks not hot enough to boil off plastic flesh
Next thing to bleach are the eyes
Can’t stand her disappointed eyes
My eyes
Hellbent *****
Reflecting vanity in broken glass
What the point for a window with no soul
Divine Frankiestien
That's monster I’ve become
No
The monster they made me to be
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
sleepy boys with tousled brown hair
and piercing green eyes; a smirk
plastered on their faces
sad girls with unkempt blonde hair
and lonely blue eyes; tears streaming
down their faces
i love you the boys say
no you don't the girls reply
- fuckboys
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Dear Battery,
Enough of your Flattery!
You power mere toys,
You are only used by little fuckboys.
But a Lock is a dads tool!
If you disagree you are a fool.
You do not understand Dad jokes even!
You are just a Un-dank Bush wannabe named Steven.
You are best to be leavin' Steven!
Because The 9 Volts are aimin',
To Give you a taste of their dankness,
You best run far and run fast!
Because their going to Shrek you,
Back to the Holocaust.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
i have always been frightened of people.
after mom left, it was angry white women that scared me
their dead eyes staring while their mouths worked furiously -
i couldn't even watch an actress scream on t.v. without my mother slipping in under her hairline.
i am still scared of angry white women.
but now i am scared of men, too.
anyone who believes themselves privileged
to be near me
to breathe my air and look at my body
and demand that i give them attention
they too frighten me.
and i no longer allow them near.
i will let you talk, because that is what you do.
i will allow you to look, because i cannot stop you.
i will allow you small pieces of myself
because i no longer feel anything
but i will never
ever
feel anything for you.
and if you get in too deep
if you like me too much
if you begin to love me
i will cut you off
and feel nothing.
because moose was right
i don't deserve him
no one deserves him
and the ugly, dripping animal that sleeps in his disarming chest
no one deserves to lose everything
for the mere excuse "i just can't control myself around you."
you can.
and you should have.
keep your poison out of my mouth,
and out of my veins.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
She was the definition of my name
She was the flowers that bloomed from the wounds that she healed
She was and always will be the ink that flowed from my pen when i wrote about her laughter that made me feel warm inside.
She saw right through me
She saw the mistakes i made
the mistakes that i used to tuck into bed with me
and she bought me a brand new bed
a brand new start
I could then say that i knew exactly what love looked like
love called me at midnight to make sure she was the first person to tell me happy birthday
love knew my favorite flavor ice cream
love knew what to say when i was crying
love knew how to make me smile again
love was there for all the fuckboys and drama
love knew me for me
love,loved me and i loved her.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 4:10 AM UTC
i pay you back for your lack of attention with well aimed selfies at other men
snapchat carrying them faithfully across the pixelated airways
no evidence for you to find.
in the end, i resent everyone i love
for every opportunity that i stayed silent about what i really wanted
i resent them for my own flaws.
my quietness, my need to please.
i make myself a dog, and they pet my ego
just enough to keep me from leaving.
the curse of a fat stomach,
arms,
thighs,
attributes of a fat ***
they can keep me in my place because i do not believe i am deserving
i've been taught that well,
but instagram makes me brave.
there are other girls like me
i stand on the foundation of the horror and humiliation they endure
in the hope of a better future
less fuckboys
less degradation
more equality
for my
fat
***
how much longer will i believe i have to put up with less than what i deserve
because i am lucky someone wants to **** me at all?
i don't think it will be long.
decades of socialization taught me to beg for every scrap
from a table laid for girls much thinner than i
but the tables are turning
resetting
rearranging
the playing field
is changing
fat is okay
fat is pretty
fat is normal
fat is just like anyone else
i just want to be treated
like everyone
else.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
I'm not going to be your second choice
While you sleep around with other boys
oh no no
I'm tired of waiting and the wishful thinking
While I'm all alone, And you're out
I'm (dropped) finally starting to head back home.
Heading back fast on these back roads.
I used to want you dear,
to hold me closer oh.
But now we're losing grasp as you sleep around some more.
I'm not a back up plan for you, a second choice
Nobody's number two
When these {other} boys leave
don't come back chasing after me,
I didn't leave you bruised
Oh cause' I'm not a second choice like these fuckboys you're running to
Can't you see what you've done to me. You never
considered
these lies and la-ate nights,
waited on you
I'm driving home so far gone don't dare to Ring my phone because I'm so **** gone oh
And when you're alone
with no where to go
don't come back to me because you had the chance already
to be treated happily.
But it's too late you made your choice enjoy going back to these fuckboys
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
I’m sick of fuckboys saying they’re messed up themselves so they always mess up themselves while messing with myself.
Hold your hands out while I lay down the most vulnerable parts of me. The parts I keep like presents labeled “do not open until this date”.
Like an excited child you rip open the wrapping paper like finger nails across my skin and I get a taste of the pain you’re about to give to me.
Next, you tear open the box. This box! that contains the most vulnerable parts of me. I feel my heart ripping open. The cracking of the cardboard mimics the cracking of my ribs over my pounding heart.
You look down into my vulnerable parts as I hold my breath.
“Wow...thanks….you shouldn’t have”
You speak the truth about one thing. I shouldn’t have.
You look around and say “I forgot to get you anything”
I think “it’s the thought that counts” but the problem is counting your thoughts only takes one hand.
One hand that I use to take my box back until I can lay it down in front of someone that looks down, smiles and says
“I got you the same thing”
8/18/2016 Amanda Powell
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
As the world dissolves into the vanity,
the speech is slurred and he can't really pay attention.
His eyes can't cease to get a mention,birds twitter coz his voice sounds better when day ends.
I really can't say when,
but since then he's been trapped..inside his mind he lives in the Garden of Weeden.
Trapped trapped trapped inside the walls of his subconscious mind, the garden of weeden, his nirvana, safe haven. Smoke inhaled, never exhaling, hold on tight, fingers clenched until the burning sensation makes him pay attention, I am saved, the garden of weeden, my nirvana.
Nirvana took my bravado,
I know I got what fuckboys don't.
When vaporised my words make them choke,
loss of their greatest hopes for what's dope.
Freedom stays cloaked in corrogated iron sheets,in a deep sleep induced by so-called "sweet dreams",but he astrals through this dimension.
Dimentia came and so did Fester,
their brains can't seem to process the controversial words.
But he does,
coz he's just on the highest peak of consciousness.
At his highest peak of consciousness, his kundalini risen, chakra's in alignment, he saw it all, the lies, the truth every ******* thing so clear to him, overwhelming to say the least, cathartic, he became catharsis.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Your arms wrap around my body almost as though they were meant for each other
But listen, listen to the sounds of the stars and the hum of the crickets and the echo when I tell you this isn't something I want to run into
I don't want to feel so empty, but the feeling of nothing in me has become so pleasing
Hence why I've stopped eating
Hence why I've stopped dreaming
Hence why I've stopped believing and
I love the smell of your cologne on the inside of my shirt and
I feel so much pride when you do something right, but
I have a reputation for falling for fuckboys and
I have a reputation for breaking their hearts as much
as they've broken mine
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
Can I call you?
At 2 am I can only talk for an hour...
Cause at 3 am,
They say it's the demons hour...
And boo I don't wanna turn on you
And go off on you,
Forgive me if I do it to you,
Your not the struggle that I've been through....
So lil baby can I ask you this?
Can I not be a love that your gonna ignore and miss?
Can you not carry the traits of these fuckboys I've been dismissed....
I didn't curve you,
When I probably could've..
I didn't curve you,
Don't make me feel like I should've....
Can you call me ?
Make love to me with your voice,
Sing to me ,
Like Boys ll Men or
Dru Hill,
Back in the 90s?
Can you feel me ?
A chemistry similar like Jada & Will,
but imma need us to curve mfs,
and be ready to ****
Those who hurt us....
Can you be for me ?
Like a baby without its binky?
Can you be the one to cry for me baby?
But man up because I'm the lady?
Can you love me for life?
I'm not trynna rush anything,
I just be thinking of things....
Your love could be the best thing...
Can you be for me?
I don't wanna have anymore games...
Not another chess piece....
Not another missing puzzle piece....
Maybe what I'm trynna say is...
*Darling can you really love me ?*
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Beware the snakes beneath your feet
Beware the guys who are lonely and nice.
Beware the ones who lie with smiles
And look at you with hidden lust
Listen to the voice in your head,
The one screaming "Beware!"
As soon as you turn your back the viper will be there
He is always lurking, nipping at your heals
Making you think your safe while waiting to strike
He will put candy in your drink or let you doom yourself
You've given me no reason to doubt,
yet I find myself wanting to escape.
This feeling in my gut, I head it's urgent warnings
Stay with the crowd, don't let him get too close.
What is going through your head?
What do you really think?
What goes through your mind when you look at me?
You say let's have a drink.
You scared me, so I reacted.
I hurt you, as witnessed by the angry red on your skin.
It was all fun and games, at least at the time.
And it makes me sick to think
That you liked it when I did that
When I showed you my strength
Beware the cunning snake, they are the most unpredictable
At least fuckboys know their jerks,
You know what their after.
What you see is what you get,
It's almost honest in a sense.
Looking back I see it,
All the little signs.
Good thing I stayed clear
Good thing I drew the line
It is obsessive,
Your emotions towards me.
You would hurt me if you thought it best
You would tell me not to cry
Whispering delusional I love you' s
I am always looking for you
Expecting to see you watching
Cause I am afraid of the beast I unleashed
When I gave you nothing
I saw it in your eyes very briefly,
The anger and coldness.
The reason to keep my distance.
I'm glad I broke your heart
So I'm not put in unwanted positions
You tell me your sick
I question your words.
If its pity your after,
If your trying to make me stay,
Well I'm sorry to tell you,
But this stops today
You're drowning
And I won't let you pull me down too,
So I block you on snapchat, on Facebook, and Insta.
I delete your number and the voicemails you left,
Because the relief I feel lets me know
That I made the right choice by letting you go.
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
When I was a kid...I was innocent
Believing everything was just perfect,
Or if it wasn't perfect, it would work out when the time called for it
However, when I grew up that innocent mind died
Shot at point blank range right in the eye
Causing me realize that society was ****** up from the inside
Crying tears that was made up of this substance that leaked from other bloodlines
Now I sit here wondering how did I miss this as a child
Was I that naive that I believed everything was made up of sunshine and rainbows
Completely ignoring all these ugly *** fuckboys and ***** hoes
Now I'm just soaked in my own rage and regret
Failing to determine if I'm just getting angrier or if society is getting stupider
So I just scream at the top of my lungs screams
Falling through the ground still pondering as to what happened here
No seriously, someone please tell me what happened here
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Why do all these guys keep calling me a *****
Just cuz I don't want my clothes on their bedroom floor
Looks at me, calls me pretty
Trust me I know
But why all these guys keep calling me a ***
All they wanna do is see under my shirt
Push me against a wall and feel under my skirt
Wonder why I get mad when they treat me like trash
Like oh my bad, it's my fault you're an ***
Boy stop playing, this ain't a game
I'm sick of your **** so stop asking me to hang
Go get some other ***** some *** some ****
But you ain't getting me cuz I ain't a quick ****
I'm out
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
i held my sister while she
fell apart in my arms because
her lover of eight months suddenly told her that
he didn't love her anymore,
and i'm not sure how many times i can stitch her back up
before the cuts are too deep
to be sewn.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
my best friend has had her heart broken
too many times to count,
feeble-minded fuckboys or
temperamental tantrums because
she didn't love them back and they decided to
cut all ties.
never once did she get an apology.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
every single one of my past
flirtationships
have ended in loss
one way or another,
him or me-- it doesn't matter how
because
i'm still alone.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
in a world like this,
it's hard to hold onto something
so fleeting.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC
#
I'm a closet hopeless romantic
hiding my heart away under the facade
of having a block of ice in its place;
an empath in an apath's clothing.
I can pick out the fuckboys from a mile away,
hands tied behind my back and blindfolded.
I don't want your meaningless physical touch.
Why settle for something less
when I can just do the job better myself?
What I crave is that connection.
The kind you feel upon first locking eyes,
where your soul and their soul interacts,
and something just clicks.
When two people share that soul connection,
it's not just *******
it's a whole beautiful experience.
And though it's only been a few moments
since I had something like this,
to my soul,
it feels like a millennia
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
poetry fuckboys exist solely in the notes folder on my laptop
and are only enigmatic because i make them so;
dressed in beautiful metaphors, skipping
to the measured cadences in my voice,
they are a lot more colourful
really, though, my poetry fuckboys
are nothing like the real ones who touch you because they’re bored
and leave grey marks on your skin
and probably i only write them the way i do
because it makes my ugly skin seem ethereal, etched with history
rather than scratched by years of carelessness
poetry lovers aren’t really real either,
at least for me;
more than anything, they are characters
that i fall in love with
because they are made of love songs i listen to
and the illusion that i am capable of love;
fiction based on lovers whose smiles, really,
fall flat and move nothing in my heart
there is nothing real, or subconscious
about the way my fingers ache
for no one in particular,
and attach themselves to those closest to me
boys who sometimes smile at me,
girls that seem to exist only to laugh
full belly laughs
and there are elements in my poems that are perhaps true
and visible if you knew who i wrote about
but this is not even remotely real,
living between pages of poetry
taking comfort in their warmth
and no matter how dressed up poetry is
i am not talented enough to pass a fake
as anything remotely genuine;
even poetry fuckboys and poetry lovers,
to whom i desperately show my poetry to prove i’m real,
realise i get stale pretty fast,
and eventually stop reading my poems.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
Life is a challenge, you lose your way for a minute, I promise minutes later you’ll forever resent it
Her emotions in charge of what to post and not to post but either way we’ll give it a like or a heart
Because we’ll never turn our back on her because she was faithful to her followers from the start
Mr. Wrong sent her a winter bae application and we hope she declines it
Just because her followers still send her Valentine’s Day requests hoping she doesn’t deny it
When she told her following that she’s been feeling lonely and too single lately
I was the first to realize the right dude probably hasn’t crossed her maybe
There was a time I was prepared to make her my girlfriend maybe
I liked what she stood for and I wasn’t talking about the national anthem
If she became a famous model, I would be the only one to watch her go from rags to riches before she reached super fandom
I remember when she used to have a DM filled with the whole variety of dudes and how they usually come
The fuckboys, the players, fake photographers, scam artist, and shy quiet guys who have a problem socializing because of anxiety
She posts a picture and her following likes it while my brain is telling me do the same but my right hand is fighting me
But eventually the fame goes to her head and she starts acting like her following never existed and we weren’t with her from the beginning, ****
I wonder what happened
Maybe it’s my fault for always falling for a pretty face with makeup with nails and hair done
And once that makeup comes off so does the personality
And all those faces and personas but I can thank makeup tutorials for making that my reality
****
That’s what I get for being attracted to the exterior without getting to understand the interior
Now everytime I look at her I feel so inferior
But no matter what I’ll always be another face behind the phone doing my social media shadowing
But now that she’s all popular I’ll always be apart of her following
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC