"gripes" poems
I thought the ***** would make me stop feeling it
But instead I just felt it more intensely.
I kissed a girl and I liked it
Not like that Katy Perry song describes.
I am not some **** straight girl with a boyfriend
Who is trying to impress other dudes at a washed up bar.
I just don't get it
Maybe I never will
How I can be some Christian child of God
And feel this simultaneously?
I will never understand
How some will continue to harp on the idea
That this whole spectrum is a plea for attention
And does not exist.
What the hell are they talking about?
Do they think I like walking around every day
With a stigma attached to my chest
Even though most people do not even know the truth?
Do they think I enjoy
Lying to my parents, day in and day out
Saying I am this pure, straight Presbyterian teen
Who's secrets are all out in the open?
There is a ton they do not know
This is just the tip of the iceberg.
Do they believe that I find pleasure in
Hiding a huge part of who I am
From my school, my church and my community?
They cannot judge me
That is God's job.
These are just a few of my classic gripes
About being a closeted bisexual
In a conservative family.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
*Most of the time
He's the lord of the jungle
Everyone grins while he gripes
Usually he's found just
Lounging around in his stripes
His tiger lady's
A superfine feline
Just what his highness deserves
A sweet purring pussycat
Proud of her pussycat curves
He's a tiger in the rain
It's the thunder and lightnin'
He can't explain
A tiger in the rain
Who's frightened
Caught in the storm he came
Searching for shelter
Right up to me and my spouse
We both stroked his chin and
Invited him into the house
He's a tiger in the rain
It's the thunder and lightnin'
He can't explain
A tiger in the rain
Who's frightened
He's a tiger in the rain
It's the thunder and lightnin'
He can't explain
A tiger in the rain
Who's frightened*
*****************************************************
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Encroaching satellites
High voltage saturation and shade
And an obtuse synopsis of cognitive psychology
Condensing your threshold
Searching for hand outs
Ripping the railings out of the walls
In the stairwells in the doctor's office on the way to your colonoscopy
Laying on the futon with and your therapist writing down everything you say
"Go on"
"Mhm"
"I see"
"How does that make you feel?"
Skid-marked underwear
Delving, dumpster diving for food
In the lonesome twilight
In the rippling rainstorm
People shelling out gripes
Squinting, doing a double take at you
Followed by a wavering tumult
They're gonna have you capped
That is, unless you purchase this love seat
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
when we remember
what the times have been
that made us into what
and who
we are today
we travel deep into our past
to hear our mother’s voice
our father’s not so friendly gripes
when we fouled up a task he gave to us
our friends, our teachers, our loves
whose interactions shaped
who we eventually have become
while we believe that we have always been
so independent and autonomous
it may be worth a moment to reflect
upon the influences
we are inclined to casually neglect
and recognize the fact
that we are always part
of that great whole
which we so desperately try
to disavow for individuality
only to recognize a few years later
the minimal common denominator
life is a wonderful excursion into space and time
always surprising, turning on a dime,
leaving us puzzled well unto the end
always intent to look beyond
the next bend of the river …….
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
Your voice is something that has me in a trance.
I'm the snake in the basket .....now watch me dance.
It's been said that music calms the savage beast....well the sound of your voice provides me with a inner peace.
The day has been hectic .....people with mean faces and gripes.
This is supposed to be The City of Brotherly Love.....but some are not so polite.
It seems everyone becomes a little bit nicer .....once day turns to night.
The alcohol starts flowing and the girls are looking right. The guys are in a huddle like a pack of wolves....admiring a female who is modeling her curves in a selection that's tight.
The music is blaring from the speakers and girls are dancing with each other. A brother attempts to dance with one and leaves the floor with her crew ......she said "We are not dancing anymore....we we were just having fun."
It's a long walk back to the bar....it feels like slow motion. You replay the interaction several times like a referee under the hood... but this call won't be reversed.....a few more drinks and your heart is coasting......now you are a tad bit enibriated from too much toasting.
Inappropriate comments on Twitter and Facebook......but you continue posting.
When I end the night ....I come home to you. You make my day worth living. Before I go to sleep can you sing to me?
The day was tough...my friend embarrassed themselves....it was so bad I really wanted to yell.
I just took sometime and remembered your voice .....the words turned into musical notes as they left your lips. I'm no longer present.....my mind is taking trips....I don't reside in one.....I have many different zips.
So before you ever decide to quit....Can you please .....sing for me?
The beast that resides inside....told me to ask you.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Really?
Why don’t we just
Break it off?
This must be a test
Of endurance
Or self-sacrifice even.
We both don’t know
the waters around us
anymore.
There are no safe coves
or humble islands.
So we drown in the
fishbowl of our little whims
And tiny gripes.
That keeps us together.
I know that every-time
You get into bed,
You think
****
this guy,
again?
I hope he chokes
on a cheerio.”
And I’m thinking
****
this girl,
again?
Why can't it be socially acceptable
to **** someone
with a spoon?”
So why are we still here?
Why do we remain
When everything else has left
in boxes.
We eat our sorry cheerios in silence.
In bed
you keep mentioning a bowl,
that separates the milk
from the cheerios,
like I'm not good at code.
And I feel us growing closer
in scales.
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 1:41 PM UTC
Though it's easy to speak of great joy and remember my Savior
I am baffled sometimes yet amused by my own strange behavior
I know, like rawhide I can be rather rough
sand the edges, I've tried, but enough is enough
Let's just cut with the gruff and hang onto the stuff that we favor.
somewhere between nothing and something I'm feeling indifference
to spare you the details I speak in the vagueness of inference.
It's not everyday that we love and we lose
but it happened to me and it's time that I choose
so I'm taking a break cause at stake is my peace and my patience.
I stand at the doorway of reason and see that I'm failing
I know that it's not the right season but want to go sailing.
the edge of the keel will cut through the ice
and time out for healing is always so nice
so besides your advice I will take what is best for my ailing.
Let me drift though the sorrow and sort through the things that I'm feeling
and back here tomorrow I'll help you to paint up the ceiling.
you find yourself working and that is the way
you hold it together and get through the day
but I pray that in play we will both find a good kind of healing.
We all have to cope with these things and we know that it's coming
our lives are like houses, emotions are just like the plumbing.
you plan it all out and try not to rush
keep the lines clear and remember to flush
but all of my gripes are like pipes, clogged and so unbecoming.
Though it's easy to speak of great joy and remember my Savior
I'm baffled sometimes yet amused by my own strange behavior
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
I could toss my cares over a rainbow
Let it hang there a while and dry out its sorry behind
As I squeeze some slices of brackish time to research the deliberate contours of your patience
Swerving its way past concealed match sticks
Bend at the so definite behest of none.
Slurring backwards
Tentative graphica
Huge baskets of winding fun
Sketchy image pencilled in, for now
Details come later in -------- a terminal
(hopefully)
Charcoal drawings offer the sweet sound of breaking cumulus and sudden wax of orange
come to life on a sullen bed of love apples
shapes are p-p-p-pulled to painstaking proportion
deep lines stippled drastic
dragged along on unwieldy wagon strokes
Art never really tastes ink but celebrates ephemerae
yet trapping half understood and beautiful pictures
beneath mocking glass panels
smudged with such deep knowinggggg
You can do something to stop this **** blood impasse
beset more so with counterfeit decline
blind bull rage too ready and bloodthirsty acts bay
half crippled and on its knees, how your land cries
see the (over)spill of rightly invective remain unresolved
See the deprivation at the lake
all gall thirsty, yet none to drink
just a hapless event smarting
On a downward cyclic turn
no more will sing voices when old gripes unheard
scream in the long, red lines bulleted across that holy floor
albeit the wicked general holds the trussed up cards
he won’t bother scraping the dried salt of kin later
it grows ever more in sad mounds on the little green book
awaiting missing miracle
inflections of a restless mind
within the ***** creep
retorts from peerless craft forge
entangled moans in briars and sundry
resort to savour within disyllabic silence
Can you but count the ways in which these coins of seeking do ****** across
an afflicted floor of red lines to an exculpated heart, un(cor)rected ?
Unprocessed miracles are items of constant bewonderment in duress living
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
The solution to pollution
Is to cease affluent effluent.
In other words make the rich
Live in their ecological excrement.
Force them to drink only from
Their permanently poisoned pipes
And turn a deaf ear, as they did
To any of their constituent’s gripes.
The enemies of the anemones
Fought their way to the deep
To censure and make sure
The sea creatures had no sleep.
It seems the corporations
Don’t realize what they’re doing.
If we **** off the plankton, then
We’re headed for planetary ruin.
It was bad enough when someone,
Without telling us, sold our land
And then they chopped down trees
For a reason anyone can understand;
Greed. That was the proper word.
They wanted more money in the bank.
So when the land erodes and dies
We’ll have the corporations to thank.
They cover up their eco-crimes
By declaring illegal military forays
And pretend they are taking us back
To those good old, happier days.
But in between bombing villages
It can always plainly be seen
That we and our country are
Slowly being picked totally clean.
And when we object, cry out loud
That something is wrong with all this;
They start to call us unpatriotic,
Call us who starve are the neurotics.
So, don’t listen to their lying rhetoric,
Instead look at what they are doing.
The sonsabitches are Macbeth’s witches,
And they have a lot of poison brewing.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
When I was a child
they let me run wild
but soon chores
and schoolwork
and clothing
were piled
and lest I forget
parental laws set
my freedom
the ruler
and routine
defiled.
Take all my blues
and send me away
"Your time is coming",
she said, " one fine day"
Inside I'd be singing
that simple refrain:
"and I'll never be back here,
EVER AGAIN!"
If somebody told me
I'd wind up back home
I'd reckon them crazy
and slam down the phone.
Got a couple of years
now to pay of this loan
and a couple beers
down I'd sit and I'd moan
in spite of my troubles
in spite of my own
in spite of the fact
that I'm thin as a bone
In time I will harvest
the seeds that I've sown
I am not goin' back there
So LEAVE ME ALONE!
But one day back here
I did surely arrive
my kit and caboodle
five-oh Barton Drive
reluctantly settled
back into the hive
for no other way
I could see to survive...
Well to be sure
this is just how it goes
tonight I caught Dad
folding up all my clothes
He makes sure I have eaten
and socks on my toes
And of course all my business
everyone knows!
I've ransacked the bedroom
and clogged up the pipes
Let down my hair
aired all my gripes
Reliving my teens
never one of those types
and finally come clean
that I LOVE Wesley Snipes.
Thanks Mom and Dad
for all your direction
you hold up the fort
and offer correction
I've not always taken
your timely advice
Resented the hair cut
in the midst of the lice.
You know me quite well
I'm one bitter pill
but I love you now
and so I always will
and when the door opens
and I take my leave
on me arm I'll be wearing
a damp snotty sleeve.
I thank you both
for taking my crap
for all of your years,
never seen such a sap
once sense and stability
I can regain
I'll never be back here
EVER AGAIN!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
I told him often and
I couldn’t have made it clearer.
He needs to stop looking
At himself in funhouse mirrors.
His nose is too wide
His body is just too skinny.
Good looking body parts
He believes he hasn’t any.
He seldom smiles
Even when a comic falls down.
He doesn’t like comedy.
Not even good circus clowns.
He doesn’t read poetry
Unless it is written about him
And his taste in music
Is all based on a passing whim.
He’s thirty years old
But he acts like an adolescent,
Playing the same games
From childhood to the present.
He still dresses like he did
When he was ten years old
And doesn’t clean his room
Not ever, unless he is told.
He plays on the computer
And keeps dead-end employment,
Then gripes about his life
And his total lack of enjoyment.
His ambition level wrecked
Because his family still pays his bills
And lets him hide in his room
That’s the kind of situation that kills.
He has no ups or downs
And takes pills to keep his mood.
He buys toys and gadgets
And lives on his mother’s food.
But, nothing in life calls him
To achieve or excel or to win
In the halfhearted game of life
That he finds himself stuck in.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
At the ends
The ends of my wits
I am
But lost
Beyond help
The fear of the unknown
I do not know
What I don't know
And the knowledge
I possess
Gripes me
How much
Do I really need to know
What do I do
When everything and everyone points
But the directions
Are random
Assorted in multitudes of angles
The masses of things and the burning fear
Running through my mind
It confuses me
And consumes me whole
Like
A mouse
Walloped
By a snake
A pebble
Swallowed
By the tides
Day and night I think of what and how
To face this problem
The lack of knowledge
And destitute of time
I ain't sure
What the root
Or roots
Of this problem is
I simply know
I'm rooted to this ground
With no escape out
With the exception
Of pure hard work
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
Tonight I took a risk
And once again sliced my wrists
But instead of five I did ten
And little blood came out when
I pressed a little harder
And the blade cut a little farther
I looked like a tiger with it’s stripes
And I’m willing to face all the gripes
You’ll probably leave me when you see my scars
Because you’ll realize all the harm
It stings a little but still feels good
You didn’t understand and you never would
You can’t handle a basket case
To you I’m just a waste
Let’s see how they look tomorrow
Because tonight they filled me with sorrow
They didn’t bleed like I’d hope
Maybe next time I’ll try the rope
I’m a ***** up and don’t deserve life
I argue with myself about what to do and with which knife
I lay here now wrists stinging
The sandman with sleep he’s bringing
I’m upset at myself more than you are at me
So don’t yell or use harsh words during your plea
I’m sorry for what I’ve done
There is nothing more I can do, none
Maybe it’s more than ten
I stopped counting around then
You’ll leave me tomorrow I know it
Whether or not I refuse to show it
The scars will still remain
And you’ll think of me with cruel disdain
Hate me for all I care
This heavy cross I’ll always bare
Give me another reason to hate my soul and body
Give me another bad habit to proclaim as a hobby
I’m an artist by nature and I paint with my blood
And when I’m done my sharp edged paint brush will drop with a thud
I don’t care anymore and I wish life was simpler
I suppose T.S Elliot was correct: this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC
do you not have any thoughts or ideas?
besides how to stop someone else
besides the constant gripes and ********
after all, i just met you playing billiards
you asked me how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff
that's what started this conversation
and now you say you're done conversatin'
it's conversing...ah...nevermind
sorry that i didn't want to discuss politics
or ****
or jesus
or your neighbor's wife
or ford trucks
or hunting
it's not that i think i am better than you
it's just that i have a different outlook now
think new, and discuss new things
not material
new things
after all, i just met you playing billiards
you asked me how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff
it's called english
how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff
it's called english...ah...nevermind
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 1:31 PM UTC
Lily White lives in an apartment castle
Because mansions are a such a hassle.
He doesn’t need a chauffeur or a car
And he likes things the way they are.
But Lily White turns out has ambition
And won’t confine himself to his kitchen
Or the gold faucets of his gaudy john.
No, he has plans he is insisting on.
He wants to be the king of the land
Make everything his and splendidly grand,
Well, at least in his ridiculous opinion
But isn’t that ambition’s definition?
As much as it gripes him to enlist aid
(He knows that means they must be paid),
He gathered around himself a few;
A set of seven J.O.R.F.s that would do.
Do, in this case, means what he may dictate
Whether or not it’s an ethical mandate
Because they are members on a mission
From the American J.O.R.F. coalition.
The name is an acronym, in gold ink;
When spelled out is for **** Off Rat Finks
And they set about hiding behind the tails
Of Lily White, thinking they can’t be jailed.
With the disgusting plans made and done
It’s almost like they used a golden gun
To mow down the rights of the many
And fear began that we wouldn’t have any.
But, Lily White is a liar and a greedy ***
It is our job to see that they all get some
Tar and some feathers and a rail to ride
To a federal prison with them all inside.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
Jesus hanging with nails in his feet
"Oh father why have you done this to me?"
God says "cause"
Jesus asks "why?"
God answers "you must die"
"To show the people how much I care"
Jesus screams "get me down from here!"
We all know that conspiracy
The assassination of John F. Kennedy
It was pinned on o'l Lee Harvey
Who was suspiciously whacked by Jack Ruby
I guess you sow what you reap
But tell me just one thing, so I can sleep
Why was Kennedy taken from us?
But LBJ we got to keep?
It was a cool, early September morn
No one was ready, no one was warned
The planes crashed then the country was torn
To turn the other cheek or march to war
We headed out with a paranoid red, white and blue look in our eye
We did what we did but was it right?
There were no MWD's so someone lied
-Tommy Johnson
*** used to be America's biggest cash crop
But somewhere, I don't know where that stopped
And the oppressive gavel of defamation dropped
Now we smoke joints in a dark garage with the fear of getting popped
It does more good than harm, so what's the deal?
Twenty years for a half ounce are you for real?
Got busted with bud now I lived behind bars and get served ****** meals
Is there some law that we can appeal?
A science teacher must at some point face
The topic of "evolve" and "create"
And put in logic and reason and keep out faith
It's the curriculum but some parents get so irate
Man, just let them do their job
These professional bickering moms
It's the battle of Darwin and God
-Tommy Johnson
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Plain n' simple true,
Dread is wholesome and
Speaks in quakes, here. For the
Monster fear looms ever near.
Slow it creeps, wagging tongue
Dripping lies like maggots
Spill from the bloated dead.
Vigor and lust are well eaten
And moths and dust are all
That remain of 'love-making'.
But tracing at first, golden
At the very last glimpse.
Wet eyes, hushed gripes at
nothing: Behold, I'll march.
I'll march well-receded upon
The dusk. I'll march well-seeded
Upon the morn'. I'll march well-sympathised
Upon the wine-smooth caresses of dawn.
For a ghost longing for death, I am
What is plain. What is simple. What is
True.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Forget your petty woes and gripes
0f who said what- to whom and why.
there is another life beyond
where millions all live and die.
He loves me or he loves me not,
does it matter? not one jot.
Get out there gal and sieze the day.
your heart is broken, it will heal.
You were betrayed,
come on, get real!
Rejoice and live,
you will feel pain.
but think of what you stand to gain!
life and love, all interwoven,
ballet, opera, Brahms, Beethoven!
think how fortunate you are,
how insignificant your woes,
think of children without love
lacking shelter, food and clothes.
put it all into perspective
seek a friend that you can trust,
friendship is so all important,
without it love is only lust!
Don't marry the one that you can live with,
marry the one you can't live without.
Life is there just for the taking,
Time is passing don't delay.
A leap of faith, a little courage,
Lookout gal your'e on your way....!
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Please excuse me Sir. While I allow you the floor. I'll just be over in the corner. As you dissect me to my core.
Tell me what I should be. What I could be but am not.
How I should address you because it seems I have forgot.
How foolish of me to think that being me could ever please, the likes of such a man as you. The one that no one sees.
You sit so high upon your throne. Your servants they barely reach. Poets, prophets, gurus, gods. They should listen to you preach.
Tell us all, oh mighty, all knowing man. Enlighten us to your ways. We'll try our best to understand.
What should be said and in what tone. How to respond to your gripes and groans.
Just remember this dear Sir. It gets lonely at the top. Where being right is what comes first. But are you really right? Or not?
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
The light glows off her sleek hair,
the tint of her skin,
divine and deliciously fair -
she's stood at the newsstand
paying by debit card,
her smart mini satchel clasped in her hand.
I watch cautiously from the nearest side-street,
through frosted up glass,
jumping now and then
at the occasional car that might pass.
She's beautiful - moving so effortlessly
and strangely angelic,
the chemical lag of this non-present world
makes it all seem so... psychedelic.
Oh, will she see me stood here
with those inquisitive blue eyes,
will she see through my insidious disguise?
'Cause I crave food on a daily basis,
many people stroll past me
sniggering and laughing with disgusted faces.
I lounge on the London streets,
my beds are the floors,
I curl up beside the twisted lepers
and next to the infected ******
And so as the woman exits the shop
I feel my hand twitch, and drop
to the little surprise tucked in my belt -
after all these years
I never wanted to know how killing someone felt,
but
my stomach gripes in pain from starvation,
my bowels are always tight with constipation,
it seems everyone lives so grand
but not me, oh no -
I just want that bag clasped in her hand.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
‘I always wanted to see your face,’ she said,
She was teasing me,
I’d gone along to our twentieth wake
Since we’d been divorced, and free.
We got on better than ever we had
When chained together in time,
That piece of paper had choked us both
But being apart, sublime!
I looked across at the massive cake
They had wheeled across the floor,
‘Now that’s what I call a giant bake,’
I said. She said, ‘There’s more!’
There were twenty candles around the top
And seven around the lip,
The twenty since we had been divorced
And seven for when we flipped.
The seven year itch was what it was
When we ended up in court,
We really should have got over it
But we’d given it little thought,
For the plumber lasted a month or two
She confessed, in one of her gripes,
For she got bored with him on the floor
Checking her taps and pipes.
And I got sick of the Dolly Bird
Who had lisped, she would be mine,
Who liked to strip to the Beatles hits
When her head was full of wine,
It all fell flat when the passion died
And we stopped to get our breath,
There was nothing she had to say inside
So she bored me half to death.
We came together just once a year
As a mark of our mistake,
And every year with the slightest tear
We would share a Parting Cake.
I’d never seen one as big as this
It was white, and frilled with lace,
And that’s when Jennifer said to me,
‘I wanted to see your face!’
The lid flipped up and the stripper rose
As I dropped my jaw, and gaped,
She stood a moment and struck a pose,
‘That’s my present for you, Jake!
It’s a bit too late to apologise
For making that awful scene,
But I think we’re older now, and wise,
And you get to lick off the cream!’
The girl was covered in cream all right
On her thighs and hips and breast,
‘You get to lick what you want tonight
And I’ll scrape off the rest.’
She laughed, I laughed, and I saw her then
As the face of one I’d missed,
There was little thought of the stripper then
As we both leaned in, and kissed.
David Lewis Paget
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
(The Chaos)
Sing your blues in rap,
let restive feet start to tap,
rap'n tap your gripes!
a touch of humor
should lighten..ease discontent,
learn to rap...and tap!
words and steps can rhyme
find tempo ’midst the chaos
chin up......rap, then, tap!
in the Christmas air
rap your blues...sky will hear, as,
heels, toes ...touch the floor
the world suffers, too,
find ways to save our planet
speak...dance...let's rap-tap!
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 24, 2019
Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
Aunt Paddy and Uncle Mike
Chicken curry, rice.
Catch up, nothings new,
except clothes, and many
same old gripes.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
Read a poem about anti bullying online
Noted the writer wanted to be impartial
Pointing out those that continued their assault would be dealt with
by 'serious' threats all of their own
*When called out they disappeared....
All. On. Their. Own.*
Met a couple of Daily plagiaristic personas
It was a shock to see two in a row
One disappeared with little to no fuss
(It is nice when the trash takes itself out)
The other continually claims what they don't own...
Deleting comments but hopefully suffering guilt, no doubt!
There's been a few snipes, some gripes,
some snaps and grabs of other sites
But you have to be quick with them!
They disappear quicker then what's
acceptable as a modest lady's hem...
Overall?
There has been fantastic poetry
Some marvellous writes
A great deal of Awesome
you can take to bed at night
So much to read and to ponder,
to listen to and contemplate
I'm going to give HP
a 9 out of 10 this week
It's the best I can rate!
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
You keep my mind off the things I want to forget
The ******** in my life that tells me I'm not worth it
The reasons why I should **** myself
You remind me that I'm special
That you love me
And when you tell me that
I don't need to cut myself
I don't need to try to drive off the bridge
I forget those feelings altogether
I forget the terror that comes with the rain
I forget the anxiety that comes with sitting next to strange men
I forget the tears that come with feeling unlovable
I forget the hangover that comes from yesterday's gripes
I ******* forget it
Because you look in my eyes
And tell me that I'm special
That you love me
And for the first time in my life
I believe it
I don't have to lie to myself
While waiting for the next best thing
Because you're it
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC