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kyle Shirley Feb 2016
Iv been there for you
Iv been tough for you
Iv been happiness for you
Iv been caring for you
Iv been you for you, when you couldn't be you.

Iv been everything for you..

But iv also been

Alone
Sad
Depressed
Hurtful
Angry
Watching you hurt yourself, ruin your self crying out for help from everyone but me like I was never there, taken for granted and you couldnt care less.

I just want to love you, but if it isnt right, what can I do?
flower May 2013
It was a moment so chilling when I realized I had feelings for you again.
Yes, again.
This rotation of endless "agains" has kept me up day and night in anger,
love, lust,  but most of all, confusion.
This relation we have is driven by ****** jabs and hurtful comments
designed to inflict the most pain on each other.
This "again" that I feel will fade into nothing more than another hatred for you.
But just like every other time, soon we will both start gazing at each other from across the room
and quickly looking away as though the other hadn't seen our eyes on their face;
We will begin once again lose the offensive spews
and our small conversations will evolve into tense talks with blushed cheeks and hot ears;
Yet somehow, I cannot get enough of this cycle of "agains".
It is addictive like your personality.
It is an obsession like your ability to make me crazy.
I am crazy for you,
but at the same time I fear that this ***** craze with wear off
and we will be left with nothing but silence.
Could this be true admiration for one another? Is this chemical?
Or is this passionate relationship powered on by our teenage hormones and sexually-frustrated bodies?
Just tell me what you want.
If you are happy, I will be content.
I guess, if you look at our situation from afar,
you could say we're in love. I’d disagree.
This is nothing but an infatuation between two people both sharing one common thing:
somebody who they can imitate passionate love with again and again.
I crave your physical touch and your boyish humor.
I need your attention most of all.
You need it too; you need me more than I need you.
How you wish to brush your lips against mine and feel my body and hold my hand and be mine. Nonetheless I wish for that too. Badly.
Nightly I torture myself over what to think, what to want.
But every time this happens, I push you away.
And the cycle of "agains" return, only to ruin us inside even more.
j.b.
Gossamer Dec 2013
"You're crazy and no one likes you." I don't know how to respond. I am ten and have never heard such hurtful words before. She smirks as I walk away in tears, silent in my own disbelief. At dinner that night, my mother says she is jealous of me because I am such a smart, kind girl. Now I am confused. Am I an outcast that is hated by all, or the poster child for perfection?

She is insecure
Envy green with jealousy
But she still hurts me

"Wow. It's really sad that you have to tattle to the principal instead of handling things yourself." I don't know how to respond. I am fourteen and am now embarrassed for asking my mom to talk to the school, and to make sure I didn't share any classes with my bully. I delete the post from my Facebook wall and lock myself in my room. At dinner that night, my mother says I am mature for contacting the school rather than fighting with my attacker. But I am confused. How can I stand up for myself if other people are solving my problems for me?

I cannot escape
Her words make me feel alone
What did I do wrong?

"Guess who." I know exactly how to respond. I am seventeen and I have had enough. My bully moved away two years ago; I thought she had moved on. Apparently, distance is not a problem for her. One sentence is all she will get from me: "I feel bad for you." The phone company has her number minutes later and I am proud of myself. At dinner that night, I don't tell my mother anything, because there's nothing to tell. There is no more confusion; I know that she is not the only one of her kind, but I also know that I am strong enough to handle anyone whose insecurites knock them down a few levels in the realm of maturity. I only wish the clarity had come sooner.

To my old neighbor:
Thank you for tormenting me.
You have made me strong.
Anthony Moore Jun 2010
Mischievous secrets
Softly screamed in my ear
Anger surging
And racing through me
Voices no on else can hear
Crying out in my mind
Revealing truths
Sheding light on shadows
Soul cowering in the corner
Afraid of everything, everyone
People you've hurt before
Try to warn me and tell me
Exactly what will happen
If I say only 3 words
Fatal words hurtful words
You know of the damage they cause
And of the wreckage they bring
Yet you say them so meaningly
Your trying to hurt me
And bring me pain
Well you succeeded
My heart is slain
And I feel a pain
Like no other pain
And I still tell you
I still love you
And no matter what
I always will
And you never will
So ***** I spill
Because you make me sick
Because you think your slick
But you're not
All this is what runs through me
And my mind
As I sit here and you tell me
This 3 word devastation
That I fear, so much I fear
As I'm dripping a tear
As you softly whisper in my ear
I love you dear
Tears crystal blue
Becasue I know its not true
Anthony J. Alexander 2005
Emerald Jul 2013
stubbed  knees
and school yard loyalty
when a cardboard box
was a castle, under trees
we played all day
till the stars sung our names
i looked  to you
through the cut out doors
traced in blue
you said we can run away

in suede suitcases
filled with  tubes
if you knew the game
why did you push those needles
through
i always could of loved
you more

but how did you run  alone
through our castle door
hopped those speeding trains
fled to abandoned planes
and you filled those strangers beds
just to feel that lift
i was  your younger self
i believed in nothing more

leave the artists
alone with their dreams
all those hurtful days
will become their masterpiece

but I'm  a single wing
a monarchs arm
that rests on the peek
of our castles farm
you left me alone out here
with big shoes to fill
wearing my daisy dress
bleached with our mothers tears

i always thought you had it good
you where the silhouette
of my shadows dream

but in the end
of  this threaded world
i sit on a bench
filled with city birds
and i look past  the cracks
of our castle doors
to see my loneliness
apart from your beaten war.
e Jul 2014
So you've decided to cut your losses
leave here before it gets any more complicated
and you know I won't stand in your way
love should be voluntary
not a war,
not something I should have to earn
not something I should have to win.

So before you leave,
before you stumble out that door
won't you say something hurtful
make it sting to the core
say something that will singe
and leave a mark on my heart.

Because one day
should melancholy
unexpectedly
breathe life to your memory
I don't want to regret
the ghost of someone
who was gone too soon
like breath
lost on the windowpane of my soul.
I can't change my heart
from loving you...
My love for you began with the start
of the life I created in you...

I'll take the blame
of who you are now...
I feel so much shame
cause I know it's wrong...

I don't want it this way
between you and I...
Hopefully one day
we can both make a change...

This is not how
I want our life to be...
Let's do this now
and make us a better relationship...

I love you just as much
as I do my others...
Why do we say hurtful things and such
I'll never know...

Let's just put an end
to our troubles...
Be my friend
as well as my daughter...

2008

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
rare-and-rad Sep 2014
all the blood and tears that I wasted all this years
come from the pain and hurt, that I continue to fear
I'm left alone, left behind from anything possible
I'm not disrespectful nor irresponsible
so why was I lonely most the time
I did nothing more then just a couple crimes
I'm different, I know that for a fact
doesn't mean I have to get attacked
I dream and cry just like all the rest
I don't want to keep getting treated like I'm a lab rat test
I don't blend in with the colors of the walls
why is it that I never get invited to go the mall?
why is it that I don't get asked if I'm alright?
why I'm the person they always want to fight?
I must be a figure that looks like it needs to get beat
might as well throw me in a lions den, since I'm just a piece of meat
it's hurtful and sad that I get told to die
that the only friends I have aren't humans but flies
I'm not the best looking guy in world, I get that
doesn't mean you have to bash my skull with a bat....
Brandon Barnett Sep 2012
I have to stop the thoughts of you
running around my head
I've no escape from their tantrums
they're reminders of hurtful things I've said
they're a look back into the places
where we lived and loved but fought
they're whispers of broken christmases
and looks at presents I never bought
they're kisses I never got from you
because I never made it home
overdosed on the night's escape
a rotted king, a hospital throne
they're the things that forever haunt me
following my footsteps back to the bar
they're the pain I've cause in everyone
in causing things to be the ways they are


hate me away
take back all I've borrowed
hate me because I betray
please hate away your sorrow
hate me for what I've taken and can't repay
despise my every sad tomorrow

hate me in ways that let you free from me
it's the only way I can ever give you peace  


I have to stop the days I sadden you
I have to **** the way I make it true
that no matter what I promise
my actions won't prove a love for you
I've been without so much for so long
that I should appreciate all you have to give
I should've cherished your soft presence
in every day since, that I have lived
but I never put you above myself
I never helped or held you up so high
now the only way I affect you
is with a commitment that makes you cry
you always fully forgave me
for all the crimes that I'd commit
now it's you I have to protect
In asking your heart only for this split

hate me away
take back all I've stolen
hate me for the foul days
that could have shined and been golden
hate me for my every terrible display
despise me deeply, hate my emotions

hate me in ways that let you free from me
it's the only way
I
can ever give you peace
Verdae Geissler Jun 2013
Tuesday, July 12, 2005


I am up tonight emotions reeling.
It was my birthday yesterday, 36 years old. 36 years alive.
Three years of parents, mom and dad, 10 years of multiple dads, moms, ad totally confusion, abandonment, aching for my real father. ...Wild times of insanity with my mom, and an emotional roller coaster ride with my grandmother and her dilemas.
...Lots of moving around, losing people , starting over, and culture shock.
In those first years I learned German, I also realized that I was my mom and my mom's mom, and everyone's anchor.
When they wanted me to be, of course.
Then at 16, My 20 years of drug addition, self hate, torture and, blind running began. Frankly it lasted until about 10 months ago.
My mother died two years ago.
Most of the last two years is so terrifying that my mind can hardly wrap itself around it all.
Most importantly those times provided me the final shove toward my need for reality.
...A reality I have been avoiding for the last 33 years.
I have come to realize, the insanity which filled many years,
came from depths of my own being.
The objects of my saddness and fear, suddenly dissipated into nothingness,
while a need for truth and reality has taken its place.
I realize only now, my happiness, and I matter.
I know now, only I possess the power it takes to  either "make or break" me.
...No one and nothing else has ever held that over me. ...no man, woman, drug, attitude, nothing.
There is, and will never be any way of ME escaping me.
...Not being beaten, or abandoned...
...Not an overdose, not emotional ****, not physical ****, nothing.
None of this could ever provide that escape.
For I know, now, there is no escaping ME.
Oh the price I've paid for this realization:
In the end, only I will be standing in front of my own judgement.
I , alone, will be the target of my  anger, hurt , fear, and guilt, if I do not decide this life is worth being present for.
I have finally decided to own those years.
...Resolved, that by my actions, alone, I either made my life a happy one worth wanting to share, or one so miserible all I could see to do was end it all.  
I can no longer blame my failure on  "the guy" I was with, nor  can I blame my mother for her selfish, hurtful, and neglectful way.
It was never some other person's herion addiction. Nor was it someone's fist in my face, that, ultimately brought me down onto the floor.
... My misguided, distorted, sense of unimportance, is what took me down.
...The pain, devastation, and  lack of self worth,  provided by a childhood filled, mostly, with disappointments, and abandonment, and confusion.
From this, I bore my defect.
...My malignant tumour of self destruction.


I have since learned I only need myself to make this life a good one.
...I shall love and nourish, and be kind to myself.
I will love me first.
Only i can live this life I've been given. Only i can walk my path.
The choice is now mine, alone.  
I boldly choose laughter and sunshine.
Though I dare not forget the gloom and sorrow of years past.
The choice has been  mine from the beginning.  
I will, starting now, live for my dreams and for my well being.
Although has taken many years to understand...
THIS little girl has found her voice.  
It is a most important, intelligent, worthy, and bold voice to boot!
I have also come to believe that loving another should never lead to neglect or abuse of any kind.
And that loving someone doesn't mean tossing one's own good judgment aside, while living  in someone else's misery with, or even for them.
No one will ever love me for neglecting myself.
This behavior only leads to disrespect, and further neglect from them, as well as self hatred and loathing, from me.
One of the most ridiculous thoughts I  remember having was 17yrs old.  My boyfriend, and I  had been living for the past year in Manhattan, ater leaving Atlanta to make a fresh start away from his herion addiction. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire! He hadn't stopped using. He had actually gotten much more out of control.  While Looking in the mirror after my nightly shower after one evening, I thought about the way he had started looking old and worn and sickly looking. That is when it came to me! A genius idea! ...At least that is what i thought at the time!
I decided the only way I could get him to quit using drugs, and me, was to BECOME him.
And that I did!
I became a selfless him.
He used me up, and my heart still mourns him.  
...It still mourns ME, for that matter.

Disillusion and Disappointments come easy in life.
But being real and heathly come just as easily.
If only  you can stop running blind for a moment.
Then recognize the difference between the two, that is.
It was incredibly easy to set myself up for disaster and disappointments.
But I have found, it takes guts to care enough about myself to say; "Enough is enough!"
Even now, I catch myself trying to walk on the razor's sharp edge of reason and choice.

I could wake up tomorrow and decide I'll take the "easy" way.
Then again, I could to take the "real" road. THe road to freedom of *******.

I  have decided, at this old age of 36 years, I am not willing to, and will not repeat those miserable years for anyone ever again.

...My road to happiness has been paved with fear, disillusion, disappointment, and heartache.
I will walk the rest of my road with love for myself and for others!
Love and Light!
So Ham!

posted by romy geissler at 7/12/2005 02:42:00 AM
Lazhar Bouazzi May 2016
Poets are lonesome cactus vendors
In whose palms grow hurtful ascenders
From having to peel colored wonders
To those who dread thorny fruits - the dwellers -
With too many cores inside.

© LazharBouazzi
Roberta Day Jul 2013
I do not like this scene
or this chapter in my book
My fingers have failed me
as my thoughts evade me
I can’t write this for you
though you’ve done so much
You’ve written me into existence
and I want to edit myself out
It’s easier to put words
on a page that you can rip out
than to speak them to you
and watch the venom bleed
through the cracks of your tired skin
I’m so hurtful, like the edges
of dry, fresh cut paper—
sharp enough to cut,
too dull to scar—
only ever thumbed through
never perused—yearning to
be read and understood
and remembered
judy smith Aug 2015
Kourtney Kardashian usually displays some quirky style when shooting her reality show Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

And on Monday the 36-year-old single mom was at it again as she wore a baggy army green jumpsuit when landing with her three kids Mason, aged five, Penelope, aged three, and Reign, eight months, in St Barts to shoot her E! show.

Looks like mom Kris Jenner, 59, did not get the fashion memo as she was seen descending the steps of a private jet alongside Khloe, 30, Kim, 34, and Kendall, 19, in the exact same getup.

The jumpsuit seemed to hang off Kourtney, who paired the staple with clunky platform black and beige jazz shoes, gold necklaces and gold-rimmed aviators. The ex of Scott Disick played down the glam with a ponytail and minimal makeup.

Kris wore her suit in a more fitted manner that showed off her slim waistline.

The ex of Bruce Jenner (now Caitlyn of I Am Cait fame) added beige combat boots and a small beige Hermes bag to her look.

Her hair was worn styled in a spiky fashion and she didn't forget to glam it up with vintage sunglasses and lipstick.

Khloe was playing good auntie as she carried Penelope, who was cute in a white dress.

The girlfriend of NBA star James Harden had on a black sleeveless mini dress and black high top sneakers. The E! babe carried a large neon yellow Hermes purse and wore her blonde locks up in a messy top knot.

Kim, who carried daughter North, was the most dressed up by far.

The pregnant wife of rapper Kanye West had on a tight beige dress that showed off her baby bumpy (she is expecting a son in December), beige rain coat and strappy beige heels. Her hair was worn down and parted in the middle.

North had on a summer dress and beige sandals, and her hair was worn in a top knot.

Kendall had on a plunging blue outfit with black and white Adidas sneakers.

The Calvin Kelin model had a black purse on her shoulder and gold-rimmed aviators on, copying her older half-sisters Kourtney and Khloe.

Her younger sister Kylie, who turned 18-years-old over the weekend, was not seen.

The crew for Keeping Up With The Kardashians could be seen holding cameras and a boom as the stars walked off a red, white and blue private jet.

The family has been shooting the next season of the E! show, which will air after I Am Cait ends.

The Kardashians often film their reality show when on vacation as they did in Armenia earlier this year and in Greece in 2014.

This show of unity comes the day after Kim and Khloe were seen arguing with Cait on I Am Cait.

Jenner's comments about her family in her Vanity Fair cover interview have become a running bone of contention among the Kardashian clan.

Kris confronted her ex-husband over what she has said about her in a powder keg moment that was teased after Sunday night's episode.

Kris tells her in a video posted on E: 'You're sensitive and amazing to all these new people in your life, you're just not so sensitive and amazing to the family that you left behind.'

Caitlyn gives her side, responding: 'I try to do everything I can to be nice, reach out. You have to see it from my perspective, be an ally when it comes to dealing with the kids.'

Then the former Olympian says, 'Don't go there, this is not the issue. I was defending myself. It was a distraction from the sense of who I was, that doesn't mean I didn't love you or the kids.'

Throughout Sunday night's episode Caitlyn is shown getting into arguments with her stepchildren, first with Kim and then with Khloe.

When Kim comes to visit Caitlyn first complains about how her family had all kept their distance.

She said: 'Nobody's come out [to visit], Kourtney hasn't made a move at all, obviously Khloe hasn't come close - I feel so isolated out here. All of a sudden there's this wall that's up there.

'I just want everybody to be happy. I love, love, love all my kids. I wish you guys were here every **** day.'

But it is not long before Caitlyn is also being criticized, firstly due to her nature and then due to what she has said about her family to Vanity Fair.

Kim said: 'You still have a little Bruce in you. I thought Caitlyn would be a little kinder. I think that there's some things that you said that you might not realize are hurtful.

'You said that Kendall and Kylie were a distraction. When they read that - I don't know that they'll quite understand that.'

The conversation then turned to Kim's manager mother, with explosive results.

Kim said: '[The interview] said, "had Kris been accepting to who I am, we still would be together" - and that is the most unfair thing in the world to say.

'You're a woman now and she is not a lesbian - she does not want to be with a woman, that's not fair to ask.'

Caitlyn defensively insisted: 'As time went on our relationship changed drastically. In my eyes it's like, "Well, I don't need him any more - I've got all the girls." I felt it in the way she treated me. She wanted me out of the house.'

Kim, insisting Caitlyn should have been thrilled and saying 'good riddance' to a relationship that 'wasn't mean to be', told her: 'If I was with someone for 25 years I would look for the positive things and try to end it on a good note.

'You said "Kris mistreated me" - it sounded like she beat the s**t out of you. You could have a little more respect.'

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
Sabila Siddiqui Feb 2018
Losing people is hurtful.
But finding yourself from it all
makes the pain worthwhile.
Caytlin Rae Mar 2013
The good.
The good die young?
Is it absolutely true
That only the good are jabbed
With an arrow of a short life?
It makes no sense to me…
I had breakfast this morning.
She couldn’t.
I laughed with my friends.
She can’t.
The most hurtful thing is,
I woke up this morning.
She didn’t.
Why?
Why, God?
Why is it that the lives
That seem to have been
The most valuable are the ones
That get taken away the quickest?
I take a breath,
And it’s over.
But, not for me.
I carry on.
Is the fact that my life
Is far from perfect
The reason I’m still here,
Still breathing?
Was her vibrancy and passion
Something you needed right then?
Yes, she will be exactly the angel
You were searching for yesterday.
She is no longer in pain.
It’s the ones she left behind
That my prayers are for,
Tonight.
You will be missed, angel.
Philia Jun 2014
your first broken heart from your first love,
you thought, nothing can hurt more than this.
you thought, that's the most hurtful feeling and nothing can even compare.

...you wrong

The most hurtful feeling, is when you finally grown up,
and you found that special one;

The one that makes you feel completely okay,
The one that makes you don't want anybody else but him,
The one that makes you cry a river and laugh so loud,
The one that makes you love him, more than you'd ever do before.

and, he hurts you.
you feel the worst pain, you'd never imagine.
That's literally killing you inside,

because the one who can fix is
*..him
Louisa Coller Jan 2015
Rainbow sketchbooks and chocolate lay down,
on the wooden desk paid with broken cells.
The foundation *** which has lied to all the eyes,
hiding scars from my selfish life.

Money, shiny pennies from many, off of my father,
who will see my shine one day.
The drinks of cancer, which I force down,
hoping one day, they end my life as well.

The smell of lavender, purple flowers,
the spring is blooming my heart.
The stars are shining in shapes of torture,
the funny part of this joke is the truth.

Pillows, which are not made from luxury,
they are rather downfall when it comes to appearance.
Yet the softness, the cold textured feeling,
it warms my cheeks up with sweet medicine.

Lip gloss, I had once wore to attract a male,
who no longer cares for me in the fashion I wish.
Pink, red and blue… cream splatters all over my cheeks,
my eyes are green faded jewels lost in track.

Pictured life moments surround me,
her voice cuddled me to sleep,
when nobody would listen to my painful cries,
I once cried the tears of many hurtful lives.
Tamurray Mar 2014
I was born with a brain that takes hurtful words to heart which turned my world into a disordered mess
I cannot dig my way out of this chaos
I am trapped in my own skin
Evelyn Genao Feb 2018
The girl who always laughed, cried.
The girl who seemed unbreakable, broke.
She dropped the fake smile as a tear rolled down her cheek and whispered to herself,
“I can't do this anymore.”

Darkness enveloped around her as her unbreakable heart started to crack.
She's hurt.
But every day, she walks with a smile,
‘Cause that's just who she is:
The girl who never stopped smiling.

They can't see that she's hurting.
They don't notice her pain.
The girl who feels like she is drowning in the rain,
while everyone else is sitting in the sunlight.
The girl with the eyes full of innocence; the face of an angel.
Her personality is that of a dreamer and a smile that hides more pain than they can imagine.

She was just a girl.
Who experienced heartbreaking pain.
Who was taught never to show her true feeling as nobody would care.
She knew to hold back those tears until she was alone.
She grows cold with every stabbing knife in her back.

Warm red liquid, flowing down her arm, is all the comfort she needs.
Silver metal, shining so bright, is her only true friend.
Her scars, hidden from the world’s judgeful eyes,
hold memories of hurtful words and repressed memories.

The unbreakable girl finally broke.
Tell me what you think!!! I hope you like it!!!! I figured out how to italicize and bold words thanks to @Ash Angel
Derek Miller Nov 2012
Wake me. Shake me. Just embrace me. Let it all unfold.

Tame the pain that boils insane and stand for me to hold.

Rise and run the race you won for I still can't believe

A world exists where you are missed in just the way we grieve.



Shell-shocked. Broken. Clutching tokens proving you were here.

Stretching skin that's wearing thin on hands that pull you near.

Unfair: a word that's too absurd to symbolize the hour.

The moment when your soul escaped and hope lost all its power.



Return. Confirm that love holds firm in proving it can't lose.

I won't submit. I can't acquit the demon of his ruse.

How dare he take it all from me and leave this life asunder?

Ripped apart by apathy of others, I sink under.



No one knew us. No one saw the bond that rubbed the moonlight raw.

The love we held, its flame too bright. The light that left the day in awe.

Hurtful, too were all the truths that you shared just with me.

In doing so, you hid such depth that no two eyes could see.



Memories of all the times your lips formed words that shone

Echo evermore within. Reverberations hone.

They whittle bit by aching bit into the home you dug.

The roots you planted in my heart consume me like a drug.



Ironic, maybe that the reckless torture I should mention

Was one more creature that you conquered, breaking all convention.

Pride is such an empty word compared to what I felt

When you became a woman who could stand where she had knelt.



So this I have: A picture of your ever-gorgeous face.

Lividity I hold cries, "Save the angel he disgraced."

I've nothing else but vestiges of all that we once built.

A laugh. A tear. A broken fear whose sword pierced to the hilt.



Destroying misconceptions that once drove you to protection

We found love among the ashes of rejection.

Thus grasping toward affection, we got lost in misdirection.

Vonda, truly, our bond matches your complexion.



Beauty lies where dreams won't die, and this we'll always cling to.

Sharing minds that defy time and complicate what they knew.

Standing, fighting, life-delighting, wonderful; you opened

Eyes unto a world that showed you you were not quite broken.



Some part of me wished wistfully that I might 'ere have listed

Lines that drew a complicated swath 'round what we'd twisted.

Fingers that beat perfectly in time with songs of meaning.

Singing long into the nights that screamed of fates convening.



No, I think I'll keep the truth that only you and I can know.

The tears I've spilled don't need to find a place for life to grow.

I'm terrified that I can't hold you, see you, catch a glance.

But I love you too much for death to ever have a chance.
Connie Gross Mar 2016
A delicate subject, a delicate thought.
A thought I had been pondering.
Times are tough for many,
all in same or different ways.
No matter which *** you are.
Who's to say who's better off?
A mental break down could be near.
One may be stronger minded,
maybe stronger willed.
Maybe ones supported,
from loved ones that are here.
For those who are broken,
good chance you feel alone.
It's sad but true.
this thought we've had,
To end our lives.
A dangerous thought so many have.
A simple get away.
Living can be rough,
even very scary.
Our hearts can break so deeply,
Our brains can overload.
It's difficult to understand,
the amount each one can bare.
To feel like your alone,
to know you are afraid.
It's hard to judge a person,
who took their very life.
Sure you may not get it,
You may not understand.
I do not feel it selfish,
a struggle they where facing.
I really wish they hadn't.
A similarity we've all kown.
A feeling we've all felt.
This truth is very real.
A painful thought,
It's really so surreal.
A life is usually taken,
when a persons luck is down,
Or bullying has occured.
It may happen when addictions have overruled,
For some a medication with a side affect.
No matter the reason for suicide,
a reason they have felt was right.
Who's to say it's right or wrong?
A moment happens quickly,
when in pain and misery.
No truly happy person,
goes to think this way.
I wish they hadn't died like this,
so sad and all alone.
I wish they didn't feel that way.
I wish they had a person near,
I wish they hadn't hurt that day.
I wish they knew tomorrow would come,
a chance to start again.
I know they feared tomorrow most.
I don't feel them selfish in anyway.
In fact I bet, they felt they where so many different things,
Burdens to society, An Ugly face, a useless space, worthless and pathetic, stupid and a coward, unloved by all, who'd miss this stupid face.
They may even have felt Betrayed by one or more, a joke to ones around. Insulted by ones they trusted.
A broken soul needs mended.
No matter of their feelings,
deep the feelings went.
A while they built to that,
A while it took to break them.
A fight they tried to make.
Be mad there gone, be sad for them.
They where broken souls,
in pain they bared.
Life they feared.
know it wasn't to hurt you.
The pain they couldn't bare.
The thoughts they had where deep,
the tears they cried where real.
A cry for help they had,
hand to hold they needed.
How sad it is they didn't know,
the love we had for them.
We all have our up and downs,
Struggles we've all shared.
Similar thoughts in all our heads,
at some point it's there.
A hurtful subject, a sensitive thought.
A fight we fight daily,
a battle I hope we win.
For suicide is hurtful,
no matter who you are.
A tryful test for all of us.
I hope your not alone,
and if you are, you sould know,
I love you all out there!
Suicide is very touchy and difficult. Because we have all felt suicidle or known someone who has. It isn't easy for any of us. Many say it is selfish of the person. I really don't think it is. I believe it's the guilt we face feeling like we failed them and weren't there to help.
Kairee F Dec 2012
Here I stand, an outsider to my own body,
Seeing myself,
Hearing my words,
Watching as my lips form each disgraceful, hurtful sound,
Every fearful curse
As I pace the room.
I look on but don't understand.
I just stand here and watch her - myself.
I do nothing,
Because there is nothing I can do.
I don't know that girl.
I've never seen her before.
No one I’ve ever been would speak those words.
No one I’ve ever been would throw herself at him.
No one I’ve ever been would be that desperately pathetic.
Every desire in me screams,
“Shake her!
Snap her out of it!
Smack her!
ANYTHING!”
Who is she to be that selfish?
Who is she to stoop that low?
To only see herself?
To care more for herself than anyone else?
To speak to someone for whom she cares with such false hatred?
Never in any moment has she felt its authenticity.
Just muffled attempts at ignoring her confusion.

Note to self:
Who are you?
What have you become?


I watch but do nothing.
And I follow her home to watch her more,
Searching for a clue behind every nervous twitch.
A palm full of twenty painkillers trembles in one hand,
A bottle of water in the other,
Tears ceased,
Just calm.
There she sits for what seems like hours
But only proves minutes.
And something inside of her makes her stop.
Me?
Somehow, two days later, we meet again.
My vision has changed.
I feel her again,
A version of her I respect.
One moment watching,
And the next moment being.
So I find the pills.
Without hesitation,
I dump the remains,
Listening to the plop, plop as each drops.
I press the ****,
And they are flushed forever,
Along with the girl I never recognized.

Never will I see either again,
And a quiet grin turns the ends of my lips.
I have produced tons of intimate letters; none of them are real. They are true in just an uncertain sense; they don't lie in the hands of any liberty. The whole of them; the utter, entire thoroughness! Sad, I know. Most of them are of no interest to anyone but my heart. My only heart. That sings in horrid uncertainty and unloved freedom. My love, my darling, the second half of my being - is lost, and will forever lay out there, astray. The very own flower of my being. My sin, my soul. The dearest letter of my sacrifice, inner thoughts, depth, and pleasure. It is my mistake, I know; my fault as it has always been, to be unable to desist from my loving feelings. I can't resist the eagerness I feel whenever I am close to him; when I can hear his thoughts, when I listen to his distant heartbeat. How I am addicted to, and obsessed with the sensation - the ****** warmth, and vibration when I catch his agile sight in my vicinity, in the polished blandness of my greedy solitude. O, how I feverishly long for more, as always! I who can't hinder myself from moving about in peculiarity - just to cast a glance at him, as bizarre a loving curiosity as it might possibly be! I who but feel forlorn when he is not around, when his pulses are unseen, hideously invisible, encroached by silence and chaos of the day - vicious but all of these to my sight! How undear! How I am unbelievably hungry for which, so ravenous as I am, it becomes no longer a singular desire to me. I am afraid I shall be accustomed to this singularity; what a simultaneous treachery that shall be trampled upon, and grossly abashed - with acute meticulousness and strands of powerful lamentation. I am so greedy about my destiny - for I believe utterly that he is the sole bird, and butterfly of my life! My butterfly, o guileless butterfly, who is as frail as a stem of lavender, scented as it was by nature's comely quietness, sickly it may be, in facing the relapse of its wrong and evil doings. He is my swan, his beautiful wings never relent although deeply wounded; he flies away from tragedy and blends swiftly into harmony. Tragic but true! As I may never be worthy of his love, he is the manifestation of my princely dream; he lives in the dreamland, the haven in which his stately princess resides; he belongs to her, and only her that is deserving of his affection. Like a desiccated lake, from its long sleep now awake, I will be the thirsty snow when spring comes to life, and greets the bashful moon aloft! I am the weeping window to all this solitude, I care for no life beneath; I dwell on the tedious edges of my prince's marriage. Frames of beauty, paints of greenness, and all those gracious perks of womanliness; all belong to his wife, and carved under her name. Not my name; awfully not, and shan't ever be. The stars sneer at it; the skies none but spurn it for its undesired but designated misfortune. Hurtful as it is but I pray that Heaven watch my steps! As to this I am but cursed and shied away from his love, o, in this drear I am like a lifeless tree when the roots are old and severed. My branches are tired and longing to embrace death; call for it so that it can come to lull them soon, from amongst the hills! I am one of its deadly shadows that makes fate even more haunting to myself! My remains afterwards are not missed by the angry earth - they are sullied so it despises my leaves, thorns, and bushes; thus my fruits will wither without proper notice; I am praising myself, with these words, to no avail! Defying my fate is indeed of no advantage! I will yell but at nothingness, I am dull and unspoken, my unfortunate thoughts are boldly sounded in the murky state of no astonishment. I am a haunting melody to a giddy song! I am not for anyone's possession, pathetic as I am; my soul can't help falling in someone's grace, in this wondrous breaths of hesitation! O but I detest it! This desire, this flame, and all their demonic flutes - those soulless songs! I can't help passionately and tenderly loving him; and his ecstatic features that nature has been so proud of! I who love him with all the might of my joy, as awkward as it might be, I long but for the rainbow in his eyes - the rainbow that duly reminds me, of how warm the sun used to be! O I love thee, I dearly love thee, my sweet, the prince of my soul! I love thee so gently, I love thee bluntly, frankly, and unconditionally. My love for thee is vivid, mortal, and pretty; I love thee graciously, I love thee gratefully, and so childishly! I love thee selfishly, but it is just because of my faith in thee, my generous, loyal faith! As I have professed utterly - I love a man but only thee, thee who rules my soul, whom I so awfully adore, needst, and care about. My kingst is thee, this I admit with all the power of constitution; strengths and weaknesses; and sincerity of my comeliest gratitude. Thou art the sole lad, master, and conquerer of my soul! The solidity of my being, poems of my tongue, and joyful veins of my blood; thou feedst my life, mind, and sanity! I love thee as how a woman loves a man; I love thee not as my guidance, no more! Therefore I shall choose thee, only thee, and as irrevocable as this love is to be, no matter how strong I restrain; I'd only love thee once again.
PaperclipPoems Jun 2015
I'm never scared
That's what I say
Because deep inside, I scream lies
And that's why I'm this way.
My soul holds all these secrets
While my heart silently cries
Everyday I try to let go of this chaos
That my better half tries to hide
I appear to be together
But inside I'm a mess
I blame my twisted thoughts and dreams
That bring me this distress..
I blame those hurtful memories
That gave me this despair
"How fortunate" you reply to me
When I say I'm never scared.
tee2emm Mar 2015
Like dewdrop seating precariously on the petal of a rose.
Emotions rise and love grows
The path with branches overgrown
Love still remains an uncertain adventure.

Love is as beautiful
As it is hurtful
Like a cake, bitter, sweet and sour
Its taste, the tongue still trying to figure out.

Hurt as it may
In love I chose to stay
What wanton insanity
David Chin Oct 2011
Life is a trilogy with birth and death sandwiching
Our life stories into books and chapters are written
Every second with every action and inaction
That we take takes each chapter on a wild ride
Through defeat and triumph and love and hate

Chapters like first kiss and first love and first car
And all of our firsts are only minor chapters when
Compared to chapters like self realization
And self acceptance and self recognition
And other chapters about our internal struggles

Internal struggles like depression or anxiety
Or coping with the death of a close friend or
Family member create cliffhangers and drama
In our books and they make our stories different
From all of the other stories that we read

When we make new friends or unite with old ones
And these struggles can tear pages out of our books
That we don’t want people to read because they are
Too hurtful or too personal or they cut us too deep
That we don’t want other people to find out

The truth of what happened or what we have done
And these torn pages will be a reminder of our past
And it reminds everyone that life isn’t perfect
And that we are all flawed with some more than others
But we are all the same because we have gone through hardship

Our books have twists and turns that make us smile
And they make us cry but no matter what they make
Us think about our own lives and how we can write
The next chapter or rewrite the past or change a few words
But no matter what we change our books will never be complete

Life is a book and we all need to read each other’s book
By looking into our eyes or how we are dressed or how we act
Or through our conversations because our books are constantly
Changing with every second and with everything that we do or don’t do
With every feeling or thoughts we have or how we choose to live

Look into my eyes and you can see that my book
Is no different from yours and my chapters are the same
There is a chapter for depression and for anger and for shame
There is a chapter for all of the happiness in my life thus far
And a chapter for all of the things that I want to accomplish

No matter how our books start the ending will be
The most powerful because that will define our past
How we die and how our books are written will determine
If they will be bestsellers or on the self collecting dust
But no matter what life’s a book and we should all read each other’s
Erica Chen Jul 2011
When going out he would wear handcuffs
in case he committed a crime. A mistake,
or rather, a misunderstanding. In rusty
vintage handcuffs, in an age of Unschuld,
his hunger for the white statue lies bleeding.

The dingy leather jacket still smells like his
old basement, and reminds him of every
whisper at those hurtful, mindless
nights - you cannot wash out the blood. It ends
with a diminutive scream.


                                                              ­                               An angry old man with a Walther pistol, going nowhere,
                                                                ­                                   going everywhere, breathes out Visage-Beatha, a box
                                                                ­                                                 full of Ashes, snores when the bullets run out.


Chin up, chest out, do what a soldier do the best,
would you?    Look ahead, turn left -
               Wait, wait, please!
    …                       Give ‘em a mask,
                                       they’ll tell you anything
.

The last piece of skin fell off his back when he
heard his bones crashed. An empty sleeve too.
Open his mouth, look for a rightful darkness -
but hey, who said that ****** never hurts?

They remember, you know, remember dying,
remember being dead, and die again.

There’s no _ left in her eyes,
(you can’t tell just by
    lookin’ at them anymore),
only the star on her left shoulder
Still remains the frame.
A cold laugh.

The orange juice spilts.

Outside the purple chapel, he smiles into the local
dirt, like a cupcake, looks for a vermin of walking to beat.
To him, after all, Jesus means no more than a name either.


Yet his heart still pumps with Ecstasy at every April, and when
he scratches the tattoo on his chest, (which looks no
less than an idea),
he looks for the handcuffs.

And those hair never grow back.
A rough draft of a poem I am intending to work on for a long time.
Still thinking on a title, my friends called it "the **** Poem".
So be it.
Mari Oct 2015
I leave behind
everything
All those hurtful words
and false friendships
I leave behind
my mask
take down my walls
leave my phone
resting on my pillow, a note
sticking out of my favorite book,
take my iPod,
turn it on,
Leave it playing
“Goodbye Town”
and walk out the front door
with no regrets
This isn't my world
and it will never be
9-16-15
erin haggerty Mar 2013
I am the reincarnation of my mother's murdered spirit trying to rise

Do i go
And where
Moon has led me
To my kin
It is up to which part of me
Who thrives in best intentions
Never unfaithful implications

Let stubbornness subside
Teach in mind of love
New patterns painting plans
So hurtful hands shall never bear
An equal
Or a heart left to let go

— The End —