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Christian Ek Jun 2014
Disappointment is thrown strongly at my direction.
Blame gathers in large quantities like a pest infestation.
"It's your fault" and words like "You always make mistakes" evoke anger.
Anger which I want to take out on myself and take out on others.
I can excel in my work of choice, I know I'm more than average.
The bad gets pointed out more and little praise is given for the good.
Stunned by unmoving words. I'm like a prisoner sentenced to jail, released and expected to do worse.
Destruction emerges from my enraged emotions, i wish your words could offer a solution.
I want to be an alchemist and turn things into gold.
It's ironic how I am a creator of words but cant create better words in my critics.
Conversations lead to arguments because i want to be heard.
I'm sick of revolving doors, sick of being slammed by your atrocious comments.
"You have no common sense" you say to me, maybe I just prefer to be in a daydream, my mind drifting away because life is too dull.
Realize that what you say has an effect and that effect can drive somebody or stop them in motion.
nosipho khanyile Jul 2018
I was afraid to pick up the pen.

Afraid that my technicolours
would become a bruise in their eyes.

I thought what what intrinsic to me
would seem sadistic to them.

I was afraid
they would be oblivious to the glitches I showed them in society

I was afraid they wouldn't care..

I was wrong.
Isaac Aug 2018
To be human
is to be broken.
Shattered by life,
misunderstood.

We all have hopes
we don't dare name.
We all have dreams
we don't dare share.

Ninety-nine percent
we don't understand
our own selves.
And so often
we hide behind shells.

To be human
is to be broken.
So stand up tall
broken and all.

Be broken.
Accept it.
And accept others,
beautifully broken,
just as you.
Written 6 August 2018

Every human is broken, but you choose whether to live boldly broken or timidly broken.
I WANT SO BADLY TO HELP PEOPLE
-BUT I ALWAYS SEEM TO BE THE BAD PEOPLE?

BAD
APPLE
bradlynn Jul 2017
'97
It's "Originality"
and she bleeds it.
She doesn't just want it,
she needs it.
Each day she Lives it
and each day she breathes it
She told me she hates it,
and I know that she means it
A sweet, blooming flower
left to rot--alone,
in secret.
no outlet for an energy
so hungry you're left speechless
to this dead flower I send my condolences,
the deepest
a lifelong developing poem, i currently live and die through this cycle everyday....
In a place by the lake stood a tall willow tree
It's roots stretching down far beyond where I could see
At first glance I admire its elegant beauty
But there's more than meets the eye, I learned fool-heartedly
Its melancholy dance in the cool summer breeze
Mesmerizes my senses and is enough to please
Then the reflection in the lake made it all too clear
The willow is my love but there's no need to fear
Behind her dark eyes is a cloudy sky
A girl living in fear who's dying to cry
I can see you hiding behind that brave face
Exhausted from a journey you thought was going no place
The tears I see fall are like rain from the sky
Or the branches of the willow that keep this place dry
The leaves that drape down are protecting you so
Concealing the emotions that you don't want to show
The path you traveled is something you thought you'd never surpass
Like walking down a road of rusty nails and broken glass
Like a broken heart, your feet have been torn
Yet you go on beaten and continue to mourn
But the road you walk knows another poor soul
I've been down it too, and I've paid my toll
And the secrets you kept hidden from plain sight
Are now exposed to me in the mystic moonlight
And when you weep like the willow, please know this to be true
I'll love you forever, even when the skies ahead aren't blue

-AJT
Bury me like any other
Bury me like I have no mother.
Bury me an urchin that has no father
Bury me a drowned soul, a fish out of water.

Bury me indifferent to the pain
Bury me amidst the pouring rain,
Bury me pure & innocent
Bury me worthless, I’m not worth a cent.

Bury me taking all I could
Bury me hopeless and misunderstood,
Bury me with blood that smells sweet
Bury me and put my soul to sleep.

But bury me in my own ****** pain and misery
And bury me a stranger because you never knew me!
Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com
Jaxey Jan 8
some 
                                        things
in                                  
        
l i f e

are                         
                        easier
                                 ­                  to

u n d e r s t a n d

   
when
left                                          
                      
m i s u n d e r s t o o d
Try the understand the misunderstood
ThePoet Oct 2015
The innocence in your
nature robbed you 
of all that you ever had.

Your pure intentions 
always left you alone 
and misunderstood.

You used to be a good 
person afraid of all
that was deemed bad.

But now you’re a bad
person afraid of all
that was deemed good. 

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Diana Feb 22
And yet
As I press you close
Against my chest
I can't help but feel as though
I can't hold you like I want to
And that
Is a reality
That I struggle to grasp
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
My path is to be misunderstood
for my path is to learn the way of gentleness
My path is to be rejected
for my path is to learn the way of love
"He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not. Surely He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered Him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed."  -Isaiah 53:3-5
Josh Feb 1
What is locked away
Can't be found,
Even though, it's right there for you to see
Transparent tranquility in my breath,
Makes you think we are the same,
Mistake,
Even though we share this world, this space, this air
I breath different than you,
I do on purpose
These lines,
Intricate, like the ones on my palms
This is how we are different

Raw realness,
So potent it's almost putrid
Symmetrical syntax,
So exact, it seems divine
A shuffling stream of words fluid to a song,
Yet, alien to you
This is how we are different
Yes,
What is bound to my soul,
Is invisible,
To you
Irate Watcher Feb 19
So bad,
I want to impress you.
It sickens me
thinking of all
the ways I
put myself
up...
even in my humility
I'm trying to seem approachable.
wishing you
had witnessed
these highlights.
Not nearly so interesting
without commentary.

I fear
I won't be so free
to explain myself
without you
explaining me back.
Pinning me down
to get the jist.
Too familiar with my
angular hips
to pay mind
to a spirited mix.
Eva Aloezos Jul 2018
Tonight,
I was a Red Queen
starring in my own circus

Dazzling in authentic velvet
being looked upon,
but more importantly looking

Sitting on a mighty pedestal of white winter smoke

Gazing down on my misunderstood subjects,

Wielding a rosary, I never once believed in
stepped in water, that caused me no spiritual awakening
Sneaking through the haunting open corriders

they should know how empty the life of monarchy is

please let them see” much of this life is fake

they must see* there is much to live for, but also lots to die for

However, all this was an herb induced thought

Which stemmed from a memory of myself, a child of merely four years

Creating little soap operas, with the cards from a card deck

Mumbling to myself on the bathroom floor, wise beyond my years
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2018
I asked her to stay away,
I wanted her to leave.
I needed more space,
This is what I used to believe.


Frustrated by her demands and expectations,
I felt little less of freedom.
Started hating to explain how I spent my hours,
what was I doing and what did I had for lunch.


Bored of relationship,
Thought I needed a break,
Just a bit more space,
to do the things I crave.
She misunderstood me terribly,
I adjusted but failed miserably,
Started losing myself trying to keep her closely.


Finally, the separation happened,
It got over I was delighted,
went out on a trip, partied, enjoyed.
She was the one who suffered the most
Things got better as the time passed by.

I pushed her away,
I made her weep,
Not thinking much asked her to leave.
Break up was tough on her,
But she got through,
I made her cry so the Karma has to come for you.

I Met her again at our favourite place,
in hope of getting her back ,
but I could see it in her eyes, that I have been replaced.
Now everything is finished,
everything is blown.
I paused but she moved on.
Now I am the one who's ******* left alone.
Going through the guilt , pain and alone phase after pushing my girl away.
If you really want a break up think over a 100 times before going for it.
Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
In the darkness of constricting depression
I begged the Lord to give me joy even if it killed me,
and He promised me it most assuredly would,
for this is joy’s mantra:

“Death to self!”

It is simply not possible to know the deepest kind of joy
until we have experienced the anguish of death to self
with a cruel stake of affliction though our hearts.
For it is there on the altar of sacrifice
when we have finally surrendered what is most dear to us,
when we have willingly brought our costliest gifts
to lay humbly at the feet of the King,
that we are raised up to know firsthand His resurrection joy
through the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
No one who has ever truly learned that
“to live is Christ and to die is gain”
has ever escaped this path.

Find me even one.

There is nothing quite like rejection to teach us about God’s love,
nothing quite like loss to teach us of His joy,
nothing like storms to teach peace,
nothing like ruined plans to teach patience,
nothing like loneliness to teach kindness,
nothing like failure to teach us of His goodness,
nothing like betrayal to teach faithfulness,
nothing like being completely misunderstood to teach gentleness
and nothing like humiliation to teach us self-control.

Why is this?

Because there is nothing like pain to chase us to Jesus
and to teach us to rely so helplessly on His Spirit’s filling.
And when we have His filling, we will know His fruit.
~~~

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
~Philippians 1:21

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”
~ Philippians 3:7-11

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
~ Galatians 5:22-25

“Then He said to them all: 'Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for Me will save it.'“
~ Luke 9:23-24
Bison Jun 2016
I have expanded through one million dimensions and still I remain flat.
Paper walls surrender my paper heart to the words that erase themselves with age.

If there is meaning I find it meaningless unless you got it right in one guess.
Can you feel blood in my lost chest as it circulates? Maybe that's a mistake.

Do dead men tell no tales or maybe they spin them lacking air to rattle through ragged dead lungs still pink yet misunderstood? Dust that settles behind twinkling stars lets me down above this silent neighborhood.

I think we all grow up to be pirates, Y'know the kind that the Pan hates?
Betraying our childhood dreams and aspirations for backgreens and exasperations.

If this ship is sinking I want to be the anchor, watch it all crash down in slow motion, while it buries me at the bottom of your endless ocean.
Tick, tick, tick. The clock have ceased their tocks.

Cover to cover I think I have found another darling. Can this tale continue to spin while the world above changes page by page?
Exploring stories that stand up to the test of time. Peter Pan has always been a fascinating idea to me. Thank you for reading!
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