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September Roses Jul 2018
When the day comes
That my light leaves
And I go to descend
What ever will they do with me
All the way down there
Where fire pours like rain
Main population: pain
The one place
in the earth,
sure to drive you insane
I suppose they would start normally
With a burning stake
Or pitchfork
But what ever would they do,
When those things just dont work?
I suppose they'd try to drown me
In oil
Or flames
But when a smile
forms across face
They'll see
I like the pain
So this might go on for centuries
They'd try as well
To hurt my mind
But when all they find is numbness
Well
I might get hired
September Roses May 2018
How do I write in a poem that I am
        S C R E A M N G
How do I convey how  f r u s t r a t e d I am
How do I get you to know how
      o              u       i          g
c         n              s        n
                  f
        my mind is right now
How do I explain my writings of a crumbling sanity as poetic licence
      It becomes easy when nobody knows your how much of concealed life you really have
    
           My mother can't worry, She doesn't have such terrible thoughts


The bullets I try to use just ricochet around my skull blending my memories, rattling my thoughts.
My personality has died with my will to live
ok okay Jul 2018
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from overthinking and blocks out my stress
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i’m never alone
And it's always there to support me
3rd poem. Enjoy :)
September Roses May 2018
I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
Lizzy Oct 2014
helping myself
with the help of some helpful voices
helping me live
to breathe with some assistance

fill my lungs
the taste of your air
will serve as a substitute
until i can stand again

fill my ears with deafening sound
swim in my veins and fix me
cure me of malaise
soothe my aching bones

help me help myself
help me help myself
help me help the lonely
help me help the ones like me
i went to self help fest last night. it was ******* perfect
mt Feb 2018
i want to be able to see my heart in word-form, all of its callouses and scars spelled out in strings of the alphabet
i want words to flow off of my fingertips like the drippings of water droplets into a sink from a faucet closed only half way
yet i've found that the four-letter word i've been feeling
can only be expressed as it is
numb
i want to be able to express myself but i feel as though i have nothing to express anymore
fukk May 14
When you are near
i can feel my body degrading.
i have the urge to rip my skin off with my finger nails
i have the urge to tuck myself into a ball and hide in the comfort of my own arms
i have the urge to pinch my wrists till i feel my pulse-rate through my veins while i bleed.

when you are near
i can feel my whole body flaming.
when i breath, i feel my chest physically burning
every breath feels as if there is a volcano inside me that is about to erupt
my body begins to shut down leaving only agony.

The ache that bolts through my broken body builds up so much that when i saw you again across the street, my body froze.
the thought of you making me feel vulnerable once again got me to my knees crying on the pavement while others stand around observing me as if was the one in the wrong.

i have been getting memories of you once again. i feel unsafe leaving the house. i watch my surroundings every second getting ready to run.

Its hard to remember clearly but i can never forget the way you looked at me. Your eyes peeling away the layers of my clothing waiting for me to obey word by word. I for one couldn't understand what was happening. i stayed clueless for a long time; only shock and fear were the emotions i could understand... especially the times where you threatened and abused me.

the emotional and physical pain you have put me through has **** the innocent girl that once lived here. now there is a woman with cuts and cracks on her body. a woman who cry's herself to sleep almost every night. a woman who wonders what it is like to not have anxiety attacks 4 times a week.
sorry this a bit personal but i just needed to put it out there in case there were anyone else who is going through the same thing so they know that they arent alone. i may not be a good writer but i got my story out and honestly when i went through this, i didnt know this happened to millions of other little girls and boys so i felt so alone and different and that made me feel so scared.

im not special but i just hope everyones alright and also writing about my problems help me out so yea :]
Lost Soul Sep 2018
Depression is my soulmate
He fell in love with me
He couldn't wait
Depression lays in bed with me at night
Follows me in my dreams
Holds me back from the light
He wants me all to himself
He whispers sweet nothings in my ear
Convincing me I can't survive by myself
I try to get away
but he holds so tight
He says I  have to stay
He pulls me close, slow dances with me
When I'm with him , he recites every bad memory of the day
I start to believe this is all my life will be
I want to think it isn't true
but is it?
it might be?
I have no clue
Depression doesn't like when I have a friend
He gets jealous of happiness
He makes a big fuss and that's usually the end
When they leave,  he reminds me that hes here to stay
I lay in bed crying
He comes in, holds me till I'm okay
I know I should get away, find help
But not even my mother believes me ... whelp
Depression meet my parents without my knowing
He made them think when I'm free from him ,the real me isn't showing
I guess hes my better half
The side of me that makes them laugh
But I can't get away, its too late
I lost the key to freedom's gate
Apparently this is my fate
Depression is my soulmate
em Sep 2015
There are still parts of me that don't
c
r
u
m
b
l
e
when my demons call my name.
Being ok is just a game.
How far can excuses go
until you pick up the stones you throw
How many lies will roll off your tongue
Before you stop playing with a loaded gun
How many tears until your fine
Darling where are you drawing the line
How many years until you're old
What memories are you making to hold
How many cars do you have to chase
Before you can draw the smile back on your face.
How many lonely nights
until you give up this fight.
How many scars until you realize
your not weak for closing your eyes.
Needing a break, needing help when life gets overwhelming is not weakness. I've been struggling with that. Comment any suggestions for this poem or anything that you are afraid to ask for help for.
Tatiana Nov 2014
I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.
I'm changing the caption 4 years later because it was very angry and I don't carry that same level of anger anymore towards that person.
Except in reference to asthma
Then I'm quite angry
Asthma *****
Khoi-San Jul 2018
Oh architects of concrete
How you have stolen my plains
And dredged my soul
The Falcon hovers in vain
And the Hare has no hope
While you swing you clubs
For glory and embrace the
Walls filled with accolades
All at nature's dire expence
The plague that drives deforestation
em Jun 2015
65 years from now when my grandchild looks me and asks me
"Grandma do your cheeks look like they are falling and why does your backbone rise higher than the rest of you?"
I will answer:

Baby girl what they don't teach you in school is that the older you get the more gravity pulls at you.
Keeping your feet planted and your mind out of the clouds.
Life moves down instead of forward.

Bones grow frail and muscles shrivel up and weaken just like your ability to dream.
Dream of what you’re going to be,
"when you grow up" because,
darling this is it. I'm all grown up.
I am all I was ever meant to be.
My clay has hardened,
no longer able to bend and curve with the wind.  
Too weak to keep walking forward.

That is why baby run while you still can,
discover the world.
Leave footprints in every corner of existence,
because when you're as old as me your feet will be sore
and won't be able to venture deeper into the pockets of the universe.
Roots now bind me to this little house where I will keep moving down.

Gravity is too strong for me now dear. My skin has already given up. Succumbing to the mighty force. Falling away from my bones that lie hollow inside my cheeks engraved,with the memories too valuable lose after  lifetime.
So that when this world had
changed,
beyond recognition,
I will still hold inside of me the days that I spent in the sun .

As for my back.
Honey, the best thing you can have is a backbone ,
because when everything in this world in pulling you down,
you're going to need something
to keep holding you up.

My backbone,
a tribute to the years
I spent tiptoeing across
the coal beds of this life’s mighty fire.  But one day it will turn into a white flag of surrender.

That is when you know that gravity has won.
I will sink back into the earth
and maybe start again…
this is a spoken word piece that i wrote today and will be performing at a small thing tommorow, ahhhhh I have less that 24 hours to practice and memorize plus I'm doing this and 2 more so I'm kinda freaking out! wish me luck ;)
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

<!>
women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing

~

the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks

~

he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink

~

she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
CloudedVisions Jul 2018
There was a Panda in his room
Ready to fall asleep
He wrapped himself up
Hugged his bed
As he counted all his sheep

The sheep jumped by one by one
As he watched the setting sun
The moon would rise
Stars shine bright
As the nighttime had begun

He rests his head on his pillow
He lays there all alone
In the warmth of night he falls asleep
As he pays his daytime loan

His mind goes dim, as his dreams awake
And he's in a pitch black room
When in front of him a bubble forms
One the size of his head
Past him it begins to zoom

The Panda half walks half crawls to where the bubble lay
Afloat in the air
Suspended above
He raises his voice to speak for it to come
But when his mouth opens, he doesn't know what to say

The bubble sits there laying in wait
Waiting for him to reach
So the Panda puts up his outstreched arm
Reaching for what he thinks would give him great joy
But what he finds is alarm

As he reaches and touches the bubble
The bubble begins to shake
It waivers and pops and rains down debris
And yet he doesn't wake

The Panda looks down
With tear stained eye
He sees the puddle below
And to the bubble he waves good bye

In this puddle left by the bubble
He sees his reflection glow
He sees his face, his tear stained eye
He wants to be set free
But for this little Panda, waking up is slow
this poem is a reflection of me and how I feel.
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