"irrepairable" poems
That I'll never feel again, that the numbness I've enbalmed myself in might never wash off.
That I'll never find a place where I belong, that I'll always be an outcast, an outlier.
That I'm too different, that people will never be able to accept both me and my endless flaws.
That I'll never extinguish the fire of bitterness and regret that burns endlessly in my hardened heart.
That I'll never be articulate again, that one day my witty words will fail me and my blundering words will completely take over.
That I'll never feel confidence, that I'll never be able to look past my exterior, my vessel.
That I'll never feel the warm light of affection and love, that the clouds of poisonous lonliness will consume me with fatal lesions that seep out scorn and desperation.
That I'll never be able to forgive, that I'll never be able to forget. That my decisions will haunt my psyche forever, ever present.
That I'll always be mediocre, that I'll always settle.
That I'll always be misunderstood and mistreated. That I'll never be some-ones perfect fit.
That I'll always hide behind cynisim and sarcasm. That my sharp blunt words will come back to tear at me.
That I'll always be this way.
I'm worried that life has broken me in ways that are irrepairable.
I'm worried that I will remain this way. Damaged, insecure and broken.
Yes, wounds tend to heal. But what happens when you are ruined inside and out?
Not in a dramatic way, in an honest way. Visable scars cover me.
I'm worried that the marks, ****** cuts and scabbing blemishes will be my albatross and that it will consume me.
I'm worried.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
The problem is I do like him.
I certainly hate him
But I also like him.
I like the way he capitalizes the beginnings of his sentences over text, I like the cute little crinkles that appear in his forehead when he smiles
The coy way he responds to flirtation with something like "Oh really now?"
I like how he calls things "sweet", the way he says "aww" I even f!cking like his annoying as hell overuse of the phrase "haha" when he texts which ****** me off,
I like how he is the only teenaged boy I know who says something is "quite" fun and how he uses the word "lovely" to describe things because no one uses that word anymore and more people should.
I like how he has an immense love for Spiderman,
How he has all these aspirations of travelling all over in the future
I like how he wants to live in England one day, I like that he is into cooking and drinks coffee and hot chocolate and how his favorite book is "Looking for Alaska" and how he's read everyone of John Green's books and how he wants to be a writer one day.
I just remember the dumbest little things that I still like about him
For instance how he likes Neil Gaiman and loud screamy music even though I hate that stuff, how he is the only one in his fractured family who doesn't speak French but his older sister and mother do. He has a dog named Charlie and when he was a kid he always spelled "subtle" wrong. I just don't know *** is wrong with me I should have known better. I should hate him for half this stuff and all the rest of the reasons I have to loathe him but it's hard to forget those little details about him. I just hate feeling like a broken lock. A lock of dark secrets and completely irrepairable. Though it's not the fact that Im irrepairable that bothers me as much as feeling so... replaceable. Idk. Maybe I need to go out with someone to get him out of my head.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Detach, from the world,
Lost, in her own mind,
Why? Searching for an answer,
The girl wanders off,
The darkness is creeping up.
Broken, she is,
Without an answer,
Like shattered glass,
Irrepairable,
Consumed by her own grief,
She says goodbye,
For good.
-nuraishahazman-
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
Christmas reminds me of the Historic cross
And the irrepairable loss and the inhuman laws
Jesus has wanted to serve his people
And has tried to protect them like his own pupil
Man is an evil by his very nature
He can’t understand Jesus’ ethical stature
And is ignorant of his benevolent feature
Undoubtedly the meanest creature
He has tried to crucify God
It is an inexcusable fraud
Can any human **** the divine Lord?
I believe Jesus is our eternal bard
for human good He has shed his holy blood
Incessant tears come to my eyes like unstoppable flood
Jesus has prayed even for his ghastly traitors
His sanctifying name is written in golden letters
Jesus has wanted all of us to love
And has flown the spiritual dove
He is an embodiment of Supreme sacrifice
May his divine soul purify all human Vice!
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
So weary of waging battles for the sunshine, this armor unbearably heavy now, this noose a garland of roses triumphantly paced around my neck. I can embrace a Lover as loyal as the devil, come walk me head on into the deep end of the river, I will surrender to the poison u will force down into my person, intoxicating me forever. Like deadweight I will crash, But a fall after every bone is broken must not feel like much. My casket must be of wicker and roses and I want melodic screams of outrage and wails of horror before and after my eulogy. It shall be marvelously tragic. A light squashed so cruelly so early before it had a chance to light others. And when it is learned of why it had been extinguished, even the faithless will be squirming with a deep shame and irrepairable sense of guilt. And the eternally youthful spirit will settle finally in ways she never could while living, smiling in deep satisfaction and revelling in the hell she has now forever cast upon these mortals.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
Fight.
Everyone keeps asking why she didn't fight.
She spent her whole life fighting so they wondered why she stopped.
Some say it never happened at all because "If it had she would have battled to the death".
But she did battle, not to the death but she battled till she could feel war in her bones and taste the bitter blood of her enemy on her tongue, for she had ripped of it's ear so it couldn't hear hear cries of suffering.
he had her in his grasp and he would not let go and she did not make him. She froze, to shocked to understand what shock was. The electric chair became part of her and her brain shut down for those few hours.
It happened and she couldn't get it; the way his hands felt on her neck out of her mind, his breath, the cold knife he traced down her back. the way he smiled after it was over and said don't even tell God.
So yes she fought. at 3 a.m. when her dreams ran wild her mind became a battlefield. She marched through the trenches with a cyanide in her breast pocket waiting for moment the enemy tried to gain twenty-five more feet of her being. Her enemy was a fan of the scorched earth policy leaving her soul irrepairable for a few to many years.
She is still haunted by the sight of a knife. She hates being touched from behind. She gets scared when someone smiles to big at her. All these things are true.
But never can another living soul say she did not fight that day; she fought the only way she knew how. They say silence is golden and her silence saved her. She battles this enemy, this demon, this devil, every time she closes her eyes even if just to blink away the ever dripping dew from her eyelashes.
She is still fighting now. She has disobeyed his orders and whispered this to you. please be careful with her story because it is as fragile as she.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
I remember the day
you described me
as "irrepairable"
and the very muscles holding my heart
faltered
the beat beginning to sound
like a mistake.
I remember the night
you stood by the threshold
holding the broken bits of cell phone
that the blossoming anger
(you were still so beautiful, face made up in rage)
strangled
straight
out.
I remember the evenings
the distance between
the spaces between our fingers
roared and mocked
sped up my pathetic heart
made my vulnerable breath
stain the window
which you grimaced over
forgetting how once
it had sighed your name
in your mouth.
I remember your face
as it stood over the facade
I put up
so that you would
find it in yourself
that the heat of my heart
was faltering.
that the strings holding me together
snipped, snipped, snipped till there
was nothing
but a collection
of maybes
and what ifs.
I remember my eyes
as they stare into themselves
in the cracked, haphazard
mirror
framing their deadness.
I remember once
they used to
have their own life.
a life
built
on
you.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
"Youre such a baby!"
The words I suppose will define my first and most crucial flaw.
The irrepairable error I cant get away from.
Ya know, at this point though, hearing the words flow from your mouth nowadays,
"Youre such a baby!"
It seems more and less applicable.
When you first said it I was most definitely a baby, freshly able to call myself 16 and I thought I was head over heels then. But nowadays I find myself being semi childish over you and then I remember were not actually anything were just whatever and I just hear it,
"Youre such a baby!"
Hm.
The phrase haunts her mind like a specter she sometimes forgets about; but its always there
Im sorry.
I feel like my dreams grow bigger and realer every day and they include you more and more but then theres days where I just feel like if I was the last person on earth youd walk on bye humming.
"Im a ******* baby"
Its weird. I dont think im a baby at all and then you make me remember.
I still need to remember to learn from children that nothing is as serious as I let it seem. Every day you lose a tiny bit of interest in me and I watch it. I feel like im watching the water from my fishbowl evaporate. I noticed you think you can pick out certain life images from people to decide your compatibility. That is so intuitive but the edges of our puzzle pieces dont really fit every day.
"If we never date we never break up"
I dont really care if we date losing you is gonna **** again. But when the day comes I know well cope. Youll yoga me away and skip the shotglass, Ill probably roll more blunts than my throat is ok with and convince myself im all I need. I dont feel deserving of you and your imperfectionsz So much bounces around my head when I write right now that only like 10% of what I need to come out is coming out.
It feels like im trying to pull only my matching socks from a spinning laundry machine.
I need to just chill.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 7:28 AM UTC
It's incredible,
how in a split second
the foundation that is you
can crack in an
irrepairable manner.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
i would much rather see dried tears on my pillow than another person in the same bed with me.
not putting more strain on an already broken and irrepairable heart by letting someone in again.
loneliness comforts more than the warmth of another nowadays and that’s how i will stay.
that is the way it’ll remain.
a view through the windowpane was the last thing she left
added to the silhouette of a bloodstain on the bed we use to share where she stole my heart as i laid
covered by sheets still felt by my soul.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
Anger is an emotion which is natural and perhaps sometimes necessary but if unchecked it can cause irrepairable damage to your soul..you need to know as to when to display it and when to curb it.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
She passes like a whisper and is just as hard to catch
but never quite unnoticed.
She won't look you in the eye for long
and has trouble saying three short words
that contain too much meaning,
too much pain.
The trembling of her hair against her breath
is enough to stop men in their tracks
and if they're lucky they might get to keep her for the night.
In the dark she'll be anyone you want;
in the morning she'll be gone.
An escape artist in the bedroom,
some wake up unsure that she wasn't a dream.
At home she just discards her underwear in the closet
like another skeleton
and washes the foreign scent from her skin.
She stares in the mirror at a reflection that yields nothing,
but she would rather feel empty
than be hurt again.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC