"overanalyze" poems
The pain never really goes away, does it?
I sighed in realization that I accepted a part of me would always be dark, and broken; while the other part of me still wondered why things turned out this way.
Because when you look back at the memories, you remember the good times. Smiling, happy, free. Or so you thought. But just like you and everyone else around you there was a sickness inside of her.
An eternal sadness.. something that can’t be fixed overnight. Or by one more hit. But she didn’t know that either.
It’s not how she wanted to end up, alone and scared; desperate for a needle to subside the pain. But it was what she knew, and she had no one else to rely on in that moment.
I think about that morning over and over, I overanalyze and try to remember a detail I missed, something I could do to go back and fix this.
But the damage was done. And you can spend days, months, years trying to change the memory and the destiny that landed at your footsteps
But your fate is sealed, and you are different now.
Forever changed, by grief; a tragedy you hadn’t written into your story. It wasn’t a mere bump in the plot, it was a **** catastrophe. But now it’s yours to carry, and it’s yours to overcome.
And I’ve been trying.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
Do not fall in love with a girl who reads
Because she’ll probably overanalyze everything
Because she’ll never understand
That people aren’t paperbacks
She’ll search for plot in your veins
And make metaphors of your broken heart
Do not fall in love with a girl who reads
Because she’ll fold your corners
And crumple your pages
She’ll make notes in your margins
And she’ll probably bend your spine back
Just a little too far
Do not fall in love with a girl who reads
Because she’ll get too excited for the ******
And she’ll skip some words (or pages)
When she’s sleepy she’ll skim
And lose her place
Do not fall in love with a girl who reads
Because she’ll fall in love with
Last chapters and final words
Do not fall in love with a girl who reads
Because the ending will always be her favorite part.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
... compare war stories
and overanalyze the depth of your scars...
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
Overanalyze try my mind on for size running at full speed. Realize words change but have the same meaning. Lingering but forgotten Shurley I heard them spoken only one thing can come up this. I will be left broken and choking struggling with my own insecurities why can I have some kind of security. I'll even take some kind of purity
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
10.19.11
I'm done writing love poems.
I'm sick of emotions overpowering reason.
I had it all under control.
Hello. Hook up.
**** up.
Then leave without looking back.
Without feeling even the slightest bit bad.
Why can't I leave you?
Why don't I want to?
These questions haunt me.
But I try not to overanalyze
because that is how I break down.
Happiness is relative
and depression is necessary.
Because without sadness,
There is nothing to appreciate.
And I appreciate this.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
set fire, burn, smoke
my tiny brain broccolis
overanalyze
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 3:25 AM UTC
My thoughts scream against the cage
Of my brain
Pounding to be set free
As I go blue in the face from holding
My breath.
I'll overthink and overanalyze
In a vain attempt to save myself
But you are impenetrable to
My musings and I cannot see
Too far foward from this moment in time.
So as my lips purse and crack and bleed
I'll smile for you every time
And hope perhaps, if my reading is right,
Youll make your smile, mine.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
I can only identify Autumn as entirely bittersweet
I cringe at the sting of it as I breathe it through my teeth.
Isn’t it ironic how it’s viewed as beautiful in most eyes?
The season when everything transforms and withers away and dies.
The leaves changing colors, the forests in flames
And the vague sense of comfort in the shortening of days.
It’s underneath the ocean of stars I overanalyze my place
And I realize I’m just one out of the entire human race.
There’s something about Autumn, when everything dies,
That nags at me, insisting that I acknowlege I’m alive
And that no one can take that life away from me but me
I am not like the forests and the leaves and the trees
And I do not need to engulf myself in the colors of the flames
And I will not wither into nothing in Mother Nature’s name.
It is not neccesary for me to die once a year
Or hibernate all winter just to dismiss all my fears.
So why is it when I breathe Autumn into my bones
I become hyper aware that I’ve constructed people into homes
That have long sense been forclosed on, windows boarded up
And I’m the last to understand that the doors are locked and shut.
"That habit causes chronic homesickness," the doctor explains,
"I have no cure to give you, I just have something for the pain."
It’s in a self-medicated stupor I re-evaluate and say,
"I’m the only one to blame for why I ended up this way."
And in my cloudy mind state I think of what I’m fighting for
It’s been years of battles, mostly won, but I fear I’ll lose the war,
For overnight Winter will creep up to my window and make its way inside
And the tired worn out troops I have left will be taken by surprise.
My mental health will grow sleepy but I’ll push it to stay awake
And I’ll cling to that last dying ounce of comfort Autumn gave.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:42 AM UTC
The world is sometimes dark and not all trees survive.
I'm not saying this because you don't know this.
I'm saying it because, sometimes, I need reminding that it's not all good.
My tree of happiness is not struggling to grow,
Leaves of fake laughter making it look pretty.
You see, I have a tendency to overanalyze, overdramatize, over-generalize, looking for the good in everyone,
Wishing on stars that all the saplings will live and grow strong.
I guess I should be careful what I wish for.
I have a hard time coming to grips with the reality that life is not
Full of good people and good intentions and good reasons.
I put myself in everyone else's shoes, seeing justifications through
Their eyes, blind and full of dust though they might be.
Because even when elm and oak trees get sick and die, I plant new seeds
And even when I have to squeeze my hips too tightly into
A child's swing set, I think I can still touch the sky
And even when I see lives cut short by guns, by drugs, by ***** abuse, suicide, gangs, cancer, hopelessness,
I don't really see the evil or the sorrow,
Only what could have been.
Only the Elysian Fields of immortal hopes and goals that now have a chance in somebody else's soul.
And even when my dreams are miscarried through open veins like exposed roots,
I feel joy.
Even when razors can't cut deep enough to remove my immediate tendrils and sprouts of pain,
Even when rivers of red on my legs don't rinse away my earthy, dark confusion,
I am happy. Deep inside,
I hope against hope that nothing will truly destroy my optimism.
Of course, as soon as I get out in the real, concrete, day-to-day, 9-to-5 (actually 8:30-to-3am) world,
I'm going to be crushed.
I'm going to find that seed of darkness and sorrow and pain that starts growing inside everyone.
From the time of our first skinned knee and broken promise, first heartbreak and the first time our dreams didn't come true,
The seed starts to grow.
I know I'll find mine eventually,
I think it's been mulched under 5 feet, 6 inches of forced smiles
And Sundays under that maple tree I could
Never quite climb.
The world is dark sometimes,
And not all trees survive.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
i pour myself another flask
tilt my head to the heavens and choke it down
as if to say 'that one's for you mom'
the gulps of jack honey that kiss my stomach
become a bitter reminder of the things that i relinquish in sobriety
they ask me about my coping skills and lately
i nit pick, mock, and overanalyze
see, i am much more bitter than the poison i swallow
yet it will never occur to anyone that i have a void in my heart the size of kansas
i take another swig, feel the whiskey warm my cheek, and
close my eyes to imagine my mother's hands cupping my face
as if to subtlety remind me that i'll be alright
but that never corresponds to the way that i've felt since that night
i stand in front of the mirror bearing a shocking resemblance of her
my eyes tilt down a little and my lips are thin, just as hers were
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
It's not something so easy to get,
Waiting for a reply,
Not wanting to have your name the last two times,
So you lie,
And send another,
Underanalyzing to overanalyze
But you're pressuring too much,
So grab a crutch,
And ask a someone close,
Theyll ask you,
Are you in the gittyness or the get over it my friend?
You look at 'em funny,
And it's not because you don't have no money,
Because you've never had money to change your mind,
It's not the gain grin or drop of a smile,
Or a laugh that sounds different,
Like moving in a different apartment,
That's in the same building,
Are you in the gittyness, or the get over it?
There's no answer,
No answer I know anyhow,
Just depends on which side of the road you think you're standing on
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
I sit in the waiting room until I hear my name
“Jennifer!?”
I stand and follow the nurse into the tiny room
As I sit she asks,
“Last name and date of birth”
She takes my blood pressure and temperature
“Do you feel safe at home?”
I answer yes for I live on my own.
I feel safest by myself.
“Any thoughts of suicide or self harm?”
A pause
“No” I quietly mutter outloud
And on she goes
Little does she know what’s going on inside my head
I can just imagine the look on her face if I had spilled out everything
“Well you see, I have extreme anxiety, I overanalyze every situation I’m in, I get panic attacks, I think about cutting at least twice a day, I contemplate suicide on the worst days and am depressed beyond belief
But you’d never be able to tell just by looking at me.
Even she wouldn’t know what to do.
No one would know what to do
Not even I
For I argue with myself every night
Back and forth
Back and forth
I don’t think I have the courage too
Every time I get close I just can’t.
Deep down I know the people who care about me would be devastated
Maybe one day it’ll all go away
And my mind will be clear
Maybe... just maybe
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
I am creative in a way I cannot prove. It is unacceptable to approach a stranger and declare:
“I lay awake at night, almost always.
I take the burden of the universe upon my shoulders each evening before I can sleep and when I awake it is still there.
I want to grasp ahold of life and shake out its secrets but grasping anything is for me impossible.
I understand too much and talk too much and believe too much.
I am socially awkward and have a hard time responding to things.
I overanalyze and speculate.
I care very deeply about many things.
I cry much too easily.
I want love so badly I can’t breathe sometimes.
I want someone to peer into me and see my messy contents and be okay with it.
People have described me as coolheaded but inside I am enraged and inarticulate.
I cannot explain my exact feelings in words, so I peck at the keys and hope that a story emerges.
I am embarking on a brand new adventure and I am terrified.”
They would run from me in fear, if I said such things.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
AN: There are no errors. Every word, every space, everything is done on purpose.
Call it creepy.
Call it weird.
Call it masochistic.
I don’t care.
You don’t know,
you can’t fathom
how it feels
to see your blood well up
fill the tiny little channels
in your skin.
Watch your skin turn red,
then fade to pink,
then finally to white.
You don’t know
how it feels
to see your blood reach up
toward the stars,
dying white to red
in a matter of seconds.
You don’t know
what it’s like
to have your whole life
hang in the balance of
a pushed up sleeve.
To harbor secrets
so much darker
than the darkest of guesses.
You can’t know
the feeling of a defaced cross
forever imprinted in your skin
when you press you arm against
something flat.
You can’t understand
the easiness of a trance.
The lack of thought,
except maybe
“look how pretty”
or perhaps
“Bleed, bleed, bleed!”
You think you know
the pressure of-
not the blade,
because that’s not all
I use. More-
sharp objects,
but you don’t.
You think it’s all emotional,
bring mental pain to
physical pain.
or it’s a pathetic plea for
attention.
or it makes me feel better.
or I want to fit in.
or .
or.
or.
All this psychological
devaluation.
It’s all
wrong.
Chemical imbalance?
I guess we’ll never know.
I’m sure as hell
not getting
tested.
So you can throw me away
and lock up the key-
or is it the other way around?
No, you’re out of
your mind.
You want to overanalyze
me,
over complicate
me.
It’s simple.
I want to see myself
bleed.
I want to see what’s supposed
to be on the inside
on the outside.
Why does there have to be more?
Why do you have to blame my depression?
or Mommy?
or Daddy?
Because that’s the most widely accepted
excuse?
Rather than the truth?
Why would you rather believe
lies?
It shouldn’t be so hard
to find a name for this.
A name that doesn’t also apply
to biological disorders.
That’s not what this is.
This is something
solely
in my brain.
Neither
nature
nor nurture
but
a neurosis
that simply
is.
I have a
neutral
relationship with my
‘disorder’.
I don’t try to do away with it,
and it doesn’t try to
**** me.
But you don’t believe that.
It’s not healthy.
It’s bad.
You spout off meaningless
factsstatistcs
about suicides
in my age group.
How some
-emotional!-
cutters
accidently go too far
resulting in their
death.
SHUTUP!
I know what
you’re saying.
I understand
the statistics.
I know why
you’re concerned.
I get it.
But I’m ok.
Honestly, I am.
It may not seem like it,
I know,
but I swear it’s true.
I’m ok with who I am.
I have no shame.
Really.
You don’t know
how this is.
so just leave me
alone
and help someone
who really needs it.
Because I.
Do.
Not.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
It's 1:00 am on Friday night after we've hung out for the second time this week
Not for the first time, I open my phone to a 150 word text explaining that my words chaffed you the wrong way and you were not pleased with me
The problem is that this time I was not feeling love for myself
Today I felt ****** and then you made me feel like a ****** person
Two different things
I feel ****** because lately my life has been on pause and I've merely been existing instead of living
I feel ****** because I no longer find the joy in simple things
I feel ****** because I'm both alone and lonely and I feel shut out by the world
It's 1:05 am on Friday night after we've hung out for the second time this week
and I've just finished reading your text for the fifth time while contemplating a response and that's when I started to feel something
I feel like a ****** person because I forgot that you have the tendency to overthink and overanalyze every word ever said to you while I have the tendency to underthink and under-analyze my thoughts
I feel like a ****** person because, at my lowest point, I opened 150-word text highlighting all the flaws in my personality
I'm happy and sad about your way of expressing yourself
Happy because of the level of comfort in our relationship that you feel the need to give me a performance review.
Sad because as I read this and know you expect change
Sad because I sit here knowing I failed you
Sad because I feel ****** 200 days out of the year and on those days, the extra effort just eludes me
Sad because I don't know if our friendship can survive on such a forced diet
And when it withers, I'll know it was me and I'm sorry for the inevitable.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
I want to be by the limitless sea
By the limitless sky
Where all things are free
Free, free, I love the word 'free'!
Nothing that homes, puppies, or life ever could be
All I know is that for centuries past
Only the sea and the sky
Knew they would last
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
I'm my mother's blood and bone
Features on my face are shown
Identical birthing hips
More alike the more I have grown
And same bit of mischief is harbored in my eyes
In a slightly browner shade to focalize
Motionless in front of reflection transfixed
Cannot help but overanalyze
But on a binge of self-pitying despair
How can I mosey forward with only memories there?
Similarities between are reminders everywhere I turn
Her soul absent and I am all too aware
It comes and goes in undulations of pain
Lost in labyrinth lurking in my brain
Crippled by spilled love that will never return
Only empty echoes within broken heart remain
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 4:13 PM UTC
Exhausted from rapid obsessing
All I feel is aggressive doubt
To darkest hidden corners
My mind, heart, it flows throughout.
Deepest wounds make a home
Between buried thoughts in brain
Bleeding steady streams of uncertainty
I show nobody my pain.
Stomach knotted tight with effort
I wait for someone to notice
Difference in how I speak
I am in the background, something's amiss.
I am shouting "help!" with a silent mouth
In this world colors do not belong
Wondering why I overthink each action
And why feelings persistently steer me wrong.
Get attatched very easily
To the coldest, wicked, damaging touch
Let guys I fell for destroy soft parts
Denied truth because I loved so much
Pretty sure there is something wrong with me
A mutation somewhere in DNA
It's like no matter how great life is going
Somehow everything still appears grey.
Transparent, see right through my skin
Walking through crowds alone
Dreaming of better days
Harboring thoughts I own.
Long to travel far from here
Can't sleep with all this stress
My mind my biggest enemy
Memory I can't evict or put to rest.
Mistakes coursing through blood
Screaming to get on the right track
Frightened I am not capable of succeeding
Failures precariously balanced in a stack.
Images as clear as the instant they occurred
Until eyes distort edges, greatly exaggerate
Have to write to distract accelerating thoughts
Words and stanzas my reliable escape.
Always there whenever, wherever I am at
My brain a dangerous nest
Sometimes the ideas I overanalyze
Become tangled and knotted then manifest.
Wishing to be a better person
My value I cannot comprehend
Instead focus solely on flaws
Insecurity never seems to end.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
The free, easy feelings disappear
Replaced by an eager hopeful yearning
Something else is controlling your mind
All feelings start to grow-
If you let them
They’ll take over.
Attach themselves to your thoughts
Always tracing back to
One person and one person only
Overanalyze
Overthink
Confusion
Make it into something
Much more that it is
You can always back away
Before it takes over-
You’re either safe
Or you’re ******
Once you invite them into your head
You've allowed them to be a guest
When in reality, they never asked
To be put there in the first place
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
I seem to have this problem
Where I think too hard or not at all
I overanalyze overthink over complicate
But moments later zone out at the wall
A read into what should be left alone
And lose focus on conversations that should be heard
I make a big deal out of nothing
Later I miss your every word
I space responsibilities and events
But can't forget how self conscious I feel
I think too hard about a lot of things
Especially emotional wounds I wish could heal
Whoever stole the in between
I could really use it back
Those moments of deep thought
Filled the void leaving me not to lack
An excitement for life, free spirit, or light heart
Keeping me steady and sure
And return my focus on what matters most
To be able to hear through all the chatter
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
overanalyze every single word you hear
was this a sign that things were going wrong?
no, no,
you were the one who cared too hard,
not them.
stay up every single night on your phone,
either attempting to gather the courage
to turn these demons,
these constant reminders of your loneliness
into nothing more than a bad dream,
or praying just for one second
that you could feel the warmth
of equally returned love
talk down on yourself whenever possible
my life is **** because i deserve it,
right?
you must’ve done something really bad
its nearly impossible for you to cry now
become a secondary character in your own motion picture
but most importantly,
drown every single one of your feelings
in old, stolen ***
learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat
find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach
you’re drinking bottled love now.
Jan 12, 2023
Jan 12, 2023 at 6:08 PM UTC
"If you were drunk, locked in a room with everyone you ever loved, whose arms would you fall into?"
I'd reply that I'm too weak to lie so I'd merely fall to the floor,
whether room hollow or crowded
mocking me from how
I let myself care
so much
or so
little.
But
think again;
if I were ever locked in a room
with everyone I ever cared about,
I haven't got the slightest idea about who'd reside.
And for some reason, I can't help but do what I do most,
Wonder and overanalyze and ask myself: Would you be there?
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
If I were only to write,
Something nonsensical,
Filled up with passion
And half-baked metaphor,
If only, I would give up
My perfectionism
And logical poetic applications.
Why must I overthink?
Why must I think at all
About something
That is so simply,
Meant to be felt?
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 1:33 AM UTC