"neverends" poems - Hello Poetry

I feel like a failure today Dancing around in my underwear Open the fridge: junk food. Don’t want to eat it. Take it, eat it anyway Are you my conscience? Tell me where my wrists are, then. So it sounds like I’m Stuck. I’m too good at life to feel depressed, but Here it is, like a medal that finds itself on my neck every morning Heavy on my ribcage. It's either crippling sadness or abnormal, sudden fits of joy. No balance yet. Furrowing in the middle is messy. Zero friends. No boyfriend. So bored. For the first time ever I laughed while jerking off Because what’s the point Of pleasure. Neverends, pleasure. I open an unread book, then I Close. Open another. Close again Watch TV for a while Wash my face Look at old photographs of My mother. There’s this one. Me, a child. My mouth singing to her hairbrush, pretending it's a mic. Then another, me about to Eat cake And my mother In work clothes Smiling for the picture, cutting The cake. I wonder how Much she bought it for at the time. I wonder What people thought in the ‘90s When they see a girl with short hair Bringing cake home, holding It by the string, suspended Like a present. It’s a nice photo. It’s one of the nicest photos I’ve seen of my mother. Today the sun is out For a while. Maybe sunlight can help Me feel anything Other than dread. I lust. I falter. I put the junk food foils in the trash. I feed the birds and, I praise The Lord. Sorry, lord The breadth of your kingdom Is lost in plain, bored me.

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Nov 5, 2017

Nov 5, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC

chickflavor

Me These Days

I feel like a failure today Dancing around in my underwear Open the fridge: junk food. Don’t want to eat it. Take it, eat it anyway Are you my conscience? Tell me where my wrists are, then. So it sounds like I’m Stuck. I’m too good at life to feel depressed, but Here it is, like a medal that finds itself on my neck every morning Heavy on my ribcage. It's either crippling sadness or abnormal, sudden fits of joy. No balance yet. Furrowing in the middle is messy. Zero friends. No boyfriend. So bored. For the first time ever I laughed while jerking off Because what’s the point Of pleasure. Neverends, pleasure. I open an unread book, then I Close. Open another. Close again Watch TV for a while Wash my face Look at old photographs of My mother. There’s this one. Me, a child. My mouth singing to her hairbrush, pretending it's a mic. Then another, me about to Eat cake And my mother In work clothes Smiling for the picture, cutting The cake. I wonder how Much she bought it for at the time. I wonder What people thought in the ‘90s When they see a girl with short hair Bringing cake home, holding It by the string, suspended Like a present. It’s a nice photo. It’s one of the nicest photos I’ve seen of my mother. Today the sun is out For a while. Maybe sunlight can help Me feel anything Other than dread. I lust. I falter. I put the junk food foils in the trash. I feed the birds and, I praise The Lord. Sorry, lord The breadth of your kingdom Is lost in plain, bored me.

54

My life is like a book. Neverends, Never telles you what happened, or what’s wrong. You will never hear me complain about things, Or hear me tell *** people I hate my life, I will keep my mouth closed, And hope that no one knows what I am thinking. I could tell them what’s bugging me, I could tell them about my leg, About my heart, About the pain I feel. I could do this stuff, Yet I choose pain then help every time, I listen to my friends problem, And add to the collection of sad story’s and pain. I will look death in the eyes over and over again, And stil come back. I could walk on fire and feel nothing, But when it comes to the heart, That’s everyone’s weakness. My life is like a book that never lends, You can add you story to my library, I could add it my sad story.

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Sep 10, 2018

Sep 10, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC

Eevee

Books

My life is like a book. Neverends, Never telles you what happened, or what’s wrong. You will never hear me complain about things, Or hear me tell *** people I hate my life, I will keep my mouth closed, And hope that no one knows what I am thinking. I could tell them what’s bugging me, I could tell them about my leg, About my heart, About the pain I feel. I could do this stuff, Yet I choose pain then help every time, I listen to my friends problem, And add to the collection of sad story’s and pain. I will look death in the eyes over and over again, And stil come back. I could walk on fire and feel nothing, But when it comes to the heart, That’s everyone’s weakness. My life is like a book that never lends, You can add you story to my library, I could add it my sad story.

24

Butterfly cocoon made of stone Time flows impossibly slow Cracks in the granite implode Raise the stakes of escape Straitjacket buckled up tight Breath becoming sharp Dread is heavy in the gut But dreams light as a feather Expanse awakens within Oceans of being and doing Subterranean planetary reptilian Floating inward on a ship Flotilla of masks abandoned Level after level plummets Deep in the magma where it's hot Discover Earth's molten truth Life is older than thought Cyclical journey neverends Photosynthesis fragment Chrysalis individuals choose to bloom.

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May 4, 2025

May 4, 2025 at 6:39 AM UTC

shauncopple

Bloom

Butterfly cocoon made of stone Time flows impossibly slow Cracks in the granite implode Raise the stakes of escape Straitjacket buckled up tight Breath becoming sharp Dread is heavy in the gut But dreams light as a feather Expanse awakens within Oceans of being and doing Subterranean planetary reptilian Floating inward on a ship Flotilla of masks abandoned Level after level plummets Deep in the magma where it's hot Discover Earth's molten truth Life is older than thought Cyclical journey neverends Photosynthesis fragment Chrysalis individuals choose to bloom.

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