"oversensitive" poems
*She's too passionate
and oversensitive
for this messy world -
She doesn't fit-in,
so she tries to stay out.
It's a constant
tug-of-war battle
between her fragile heart
and her delicate mind.
She can't help but feel too much -
peace of mind
is all that she ponders about.
She is gentle,
empathetic and intelligent,
but vulnerable -
she was born this way,
She has relived
this same hopeless feeling
every single blessed day.
She is an overthinker -
always reflecting,
always pensive...
Full of genuine love,
whilst drained by such pain;
she is beautifully oversensitive.
She's always lonely
amongst a crowd,
whilst completely lost
deep inside the belly
of the same-old dark cloud.
She's a beautiful, beautiful mess...
She gives her entirety--nothing less!
By Lady R.F. (C) 2017*
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
Well, Neptune and his sad sack. What to say about the watery Fish? Nothing really. You slip around in life oversensitive to your own liquid shadow. You're far worse than Cancer when it comes to feelings and such, no wonder most of you remain lost throughout life, like a body snatcher, you dream the imaginary world of happy people and happy endings. A Disney disaster really, unable to be on your own for long, you need other people to keep you grounded and on the right track. Codependent anyone? Jesus Christ on a **** stick, I dated one of your kind and couldn't shake him, 25 voice mails later. Tragic really. But it's not all bad, you speak of posies, whisker woo-woo's, and butterfly kisses. Shut the **** up and reach into the real abyss of madness, you poser! Truly the "flake" of the zodiac, you dismiss common manners with some attitude of "Look at me, look how silly I am!" No jack *** you're an irreverent dick/bitch who has no considerations for others. Don't even get me started on the drug use, ya loser. Compassion? Go to church, don't come here.
Advice: Anything is possible when it happens, but for you, nothing ever happens. Wake up. Stop trying to find yourself and start creating yourself, you ******* *****
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
A single scrap of paper
and the child within me springs to life-
the child with bed head and a LEGO fascination-
leads me up and down stairs on all fours;
lights my face, shines my smile
soaks my senses- oversensitive;
takes a horizon, gives me an infinite shadow box;
takes a coincidence, gives me providence;
reminds me that some trees are ladders,
the others are giants, like buildings but wiser;
makes me giggle, as the circles untangle;
makes me ask myself,
Are they following us?
Who made this video game? What's a boat made of waffles?
makes me too excited to eat; gives me dessert first;
lets me eat infinite Twizzlers;
lets me laugh at all of the sleepy adults,
and stay up late talking about collective consciousness;
lets me decide, "next time I'm going to the nature park",
as long as I can talk to all of the statues and sculptures on the way;
lets me write till there's no more room.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 5:30 PM UTC
in my obliviousness
inadvertent and unintentional
some may say as usual
i disturbed a wasp nest
the heightened bombilation
an anger-pitched droning
unheard somehow
therefore unheeded
until that impolite *****
a warning sting
through t-shirt to torso
followed by a few more
in quick succession
set my legs moving
apologetically away
with hands raised
chastened and contrite
both in supplication
and in order to remove
the offending article
of clothing
the oversensitive wasp
having become trapped within
defensively stinging
as nature directs
to be honest
its overzealous instincts
began to feel
more like spite
than mere survival
Aug 24, 2023
Aug 24, 2023 at 11:52 AM UTC
When people accuse me of
being emotional or
oversensitive,
of playing the victim,
it invalidates me,
and then I feel small
and then furious tears brim my
emotional,
oversensitive,
victimized eyes
But as I'm trying to explain this
to you over cold chicken wings,
I go glassy and red with shame
because your words just put a cap
on my emotional allowance
and suddenly I see you
as just another dead end,
a road that leads
to an unlived life.
Are you a man or a prop, and am I
a fly from a web--
detaching, leaving weak limbs behind
in its grasp?
or am I the lone spider--
she who disorients
then releases
just before
venom hits
vein?
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
'Woke'?
What does it even mean?
Is it exploding on social media over that viral video showing a racist incident?
Is it challenging the status quo in your everyday life?
Or is it being oversensitive and angry all the time?
It's more than all of that.
It's constantly seeing racism, patriarchy and capitalists flourish,
while you can hardly keep you and yours nourished.
It's constantly wanting to speak out but realising you're just a number
whose voice won't disrupt the masses' slumber.
I'm tired of being woke.
I want to think a lot less,
Be more reckless,
And learn to be happy with a lot less.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
In my veiny skeletal hands, is a war
One which I did not start
Just a innocent bystander
Watching my solid foundation turn into powder
Reeled in involuntarily
Siding with one party
Making an enemy of myself to the other party
A war which wasn't mine
A war I was not shielded from
A war that ended long ago
In my mind the war is still alive
I know not why I carry it with me
Like the scars on the flesh that covers my carpus
The scars in my mind run deep
They will never fade
In my frail heart therein lies memories
Of a past ought to be forgotten
The memories I cling to
To fuel my hatred
Like pouring diesel into a burning fire
Sustaining this fury that burns inside of me
Lugging resentment like that massive suitcase too big for you to carry
Forever the oversensitive one
These overwhelming emotions are taking over
From here on now rationality has been lost
This war will be my demise
Bitterness in an incurable sickness
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
curled lying prone and
humming hot, like a wire--
thrumming, like a thread
upon which water falls. I am aching
and oversensitive
holing a howl up inside me
and feeding it to my fears
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
i can feel my feet swelling already
thats how you know when it will be too heavy
or when you will not be strong enough
there are no dots to be connected,
and i want to speak but i know i am the only one who would listen.
my stomach keeps asking me to pull out the drawer
and spill milk, but it's empty so what good would that do me?
the air from my ears is sweet like honey
steam forms your body in my mind, where's my apology?
where's my money?
i can't ask, that defeats the purpose, and all i ever seem to be doing is pulling on yarn hoping to find something at the other end
i'm only unraveling
i need sleep
and a movie
and time to plan my future without worrying what a bald man who wears shorts in the snow will think
or a shiny man who doesn't cover his knees
or a grey man who thinks he can treat me as if we are sexually intimate.
tell me if i'm being oversensitive, okay?
Well, I'm not.
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 7:03 PM UTC
I wish you'd realize how much we needed you growing up.
How simple our lives could've been.
But I guess that doesn't matter, does it?
You're off with your new woman trying to have your kid.
While we wait here and hope to get better.
You've been the cause all along.
Yes that one small mistake changed our whole future.
And I see you don't even bother to ask.
See you had the chance
To do good.
And to be good.
To us and our mother.
But you chose them and now you're just gone.
Not that you were ever really there.
I gotta say that's a great choice you made there daddy.
To go out and get caught doing what you do.
When you should've been home!
You could've been good daddy.
But i guess it comes back to the same deal.
You made the wrong choice.
I hope I didn't forget to tell you, but
Hey dad I'm depressed.
Yea daddy they put me on meds and everything.
You wanna know why?
Well I guess you don't.
But I'll tell you anyway.
You remember those nights we spent with you?
Yea that first summer in Mexico.
Remember what you used to do late at night?
Well daddy it came back and hit me even harder.
You see my friends laughed and joked around.
About that one word.
And well dad that day I was hospitalized cuz I had a panic attack in the middle of class.
Oh another thing
My arms, they look great.
Yea you know with scars all over them cuz I'm oversensitive.
I wonder why that is daddy
Well my birthdays coming up
I hope you remember to call since its the only time I get to hear your voice.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 5:11 AM UTC
"Oversensitive, dramatic,
its nothing, get over it"
Why do I hate
Do I need to berate
Do I always plunge the knife that deep?
Tear at my insides like im dying of hunger and trying to feed myself with what little soul i am told i have left but i find myself an empty wasteland and it ***** It really does
"Love yourself"
How do you love yourself when all youve ever been allowed to believe is your pitiful little girl in the corner narrative
The i wish you werent born. Useless.
A burden.
If smiling was a sin.
The numbness from within
Is after all Only redemption
"Change"
You broke me and now you expect me to heal myself so you dont have to look at the pieces and feel bad.
Well Feel bad.
**** you.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
maybe I'm oversensitive
overthinking
overachieving
overstressing
overdoing
but that does not mean
I suffer less
it means I suffer more
because I need others
to tell me
that I'm worth something
if not
then I'm worth
nothing at all
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
I hate feeling oversensitive
Although I know I am..
But it is only because
I have a heart made of glass
Any rock thrown,
Even as small as a pebble
Could shatter it completely.
And my self worth is so tiny
You could squish it like a bug
And not even notice
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
Am I oversensitive
Or are you plain mean.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
The drama queen
can I play,
the drama queen?
she who was left alone
with the revenge
that she had drawn
exaggerations in her sobs
and fairly lengthy roars
I wonder if I can act
like how the showbiz
wrote in facts
The dram queen
oh! let me play,
the drama queen
I think I can react
more than she does
I should must
be more emotionless
make an oversensitive rant
I too, can hold a gun
I can tie the ropes in lines
to surpass her is a job
the easiest form at that
So, will you let me
to just play the drama queen?
that person behind a mask
behind her angry glaring eyes
the vengeance that she had
against herself for all the odds
this imperfect scars surrounds
that she always drag around
the drama queen
who's been broken,
by the fact that
nobody cared enough.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 10:47 PM UTC
I imagine your hands dwarfing someone else's and the image puts something bitter on the back of my tongue
I imagine you sweeping back hair that doesn't curl rebelliously at your fingers, insisting your hand stay with them
Words wet with dismay stick to my dry throat and if I could cough them out thered be nothing but different configurations of "stay"
I imagine your lips covering some spectre of a woman who is not me and I am amazed by the vastness of my hate
I remember the warmth of your chest as you pressed into my side, crowded me to the table, and my heart leapt into my throat
I couldn't think past awareness of you, felt you down my spine and into my shoes
That little was enough to do to leave me gasping
I'd be frigid if I insisted I could ever do without it
I remember kissing the mouthpiece of a roll and inhaling acrid smoke and you pressed the tip of your spliff to my lips before I had finished coughing and
Chased smoke like it was an ever-distant horizon vanishing into my chest
I am a ruined woman, stuck dreaming and waiting, there's humiliation that comes with this sort of infatuation
You get me tense, keep me constantly on the precipice of something, torso dangling over a railing, always threatening the possibility of free fall
I can hardly deal with my day to day humanity, the depravity you spark is beyond me and my meager means of processing
You look at me and I feel distinctly underdressed, publicly indecent, unnecessarily yearning as though I've never once known decorum
I fumble as I rarely do, trip over words like they're untied shoes, and my heart is imprinted under the press of your thumb
I've caught myself often wondering if I am merely imagining the heat of the summer and I am roasting in your company
My skin oversensitive, my heart aches with fresh burns, but when you leave I freeze and claw you back to me
The way that my mind, ever caterwauling, overthinking, shaking is so immediately quiet and still to give your voice room
That the world narrows to a point and the buzz of reality fades and I can focus on you
That the fear I cradle is smothered by the weight of your consideration
There's so much that qualifies as perfection that its unfamiliarity makes me consider running from whatever it is brewing between you and me.
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 2:37 AM UTC
Breathe in
Breathe out.
"It'll be over soon"
"It isn't going to be fine"
"All will be forgotten then forgiven"
"But what if it won't go back to normal"
"Relax, you're over-reacting"
"What if it's hopeless?? What can I do then??"
Breathe in, Breathe out
"You can and you will"
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
I'll intentionally drive you to wanting to die,
But when it's time, I'll gaslight.
I'll tell you everything's gonna be alright.
I'll make you lose your mind.
"It's not my fault you feel this way;
after all, I'm not the one holding the knife.
Nobody's forcing you to do this.
I'm not responsible for your suicide".
At your funeral procession,
I'll come in with the dramatics.
I'll be the one crying the hardest
As I throw myself onto your casket.
I'll weep, "I'm the one who truly loved him,"
And the family you trusted with your life will be convinced.
It will be my final form of mockery,
My disrespect for your deceased body.
Oh, you didn't know I was a psychopath?
Well, too late. You're six feet under grass.
I'll push you over the edge and ask what's wrong.
I'll send you chocolates and write you love songs.
By the time you realize what's going on,
You'll be in over your head, dead and gone.
"It's not my fault you feel this way;
after all, I'm not the one holding the knife.
Nobody's forcing you to do this.
I'm not responsible for your suicide".
I'll soil your corpse with a kiss on the lips.
Every Saturday, I'll bring you roses.
As I laugh, you'll be turning in your grave,
But to no avail, and with no escape.
Don't be oversensitive.
This is how I show my undying love.
It will be my final form of mockery,
My disrespect for your deceased body.
Oh, you didn't know I was a psychopath?
Well, too late. You're six feet under grass.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 7:08 AM UTC
I’m thinking of The Orb
and the crusty, mucked crystal
of the transition from child to adult,
scored and soundtracked
excoriated by blunt first loves,
first lives lost, tempest tossed,
into oversensitive abysses
from which there’s “Never loving again!”
except after growing and knowing
Lo-fi made it easier and harder
than these cheeky bleeders,
at least, I know my bare cheeks on film
would take weeks to get back from Boots
and not be broadcast to Kuala Lumpur
in seconds
Age beckons
always
in a way we revulse at
but blunder and succumb to
You becomes we becomes us
as no bad thing
but we must honour
our custodian status
and not impose
The stupid vine grows
where it’ll grow,
we demonstrate this
wonderfully
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 8:24 AM UTC
I like this town,
far from home,
Miles away from the last person who knows me by name.
No awkward hellos
From friends or foes
Not a single person looking at me for more than a second
to see if I was the person they saw last week
Buying groceries or eating lunch.
This morning I was in the shower,
Full of 15 soaps,
All of which I would get no end from if someone smelled on me
Back at home.
I took a glob of each one of those soaps,
Put it in my hand,
And reluctantly washed myself.
If someone had payed attention to me for more than a second,
I would be given a ***** look,
Maybe followed by a cruel joke,
And I may be oversensitive or weak,
But words hurt.
In this faraway town,
No one would care
Or remember.
The mesh of smells reassured me,
For if I couldn’t discern what it was,
No one could.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
In our youth
When we scraped our knees and elbows
Raw and red
We would run to our mothers
Frightened of the first taste of the attribute
That would haunt us like a shadow admist
Our grown up lives
Into the medicine cabinet she would reach
Placing soothing kisses over
our barely present wounds
Placing soft sticky Band-Aids on our scraped up limbs
It was a quick fix
Comfort and safety wrapped up into one
Paper packaged medicinal amenity
And each Band-Aid would make us yearn for more
An addiction it became so quickly
We became oversensitive to pain
One sharp tag and we went fumbling for the box
A peeling piece of skin
and the world was topsy turvy
Until it was covered and forgotten
When we finally felt
Real and jarring pain
The wrappers surrounded us
A mountain of useless snow
And all the Band-Aids would unstick
From the amount of blood seeping out of
Dagger cuts and bullet holes
And we go back to our youth
And remember when life was sweet like an August peach
And pain was something talked of movies and ghost stories
And we cry our salty tears
Begging to go back when a band aid could fix everything
And we wonder
When that power left
And this despair finally set in
The band aids unstick
And fall to the ground
Like we once did
In our youth
When we scraped our knees and elbows
Raw and red
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
In bed, stuck.
Limbs are numbs, I feel nothing...
Only pain surging.
A slow bolt of emotions and lonely feelings.
Oversensitive and pouring my eyes out every moment I feel my eyes get wet.
I want to do, nothing.
No will, energy lack.
Motivation is zero, I feel lethargic, tired of everything.
I ask, why must I suffer and go through this pain?
A toxic neurotic ***** for a mom, and no way out of this mess.
I say to myself, tomorrow I need to wake up and study, maybe apply for some jobs.
Nothing.
I still wake up only to go back to sleep again.
No action to strive.
Down at the bottom of the pit.
I've lost, become nothing, and want nothing.
Passion and desire all lost.
Nihilistic and no point to give a ****
Gone.
**** you all.
I want to die in this darkness.
The loneliness and exhaustion takes over.
I want to stay in bed all day.
Do nothing.
I'm dead.
Pure nihilism until my corspe begins to rot, ripened and turned to ash and soil.
Nothing but dread.
I want **** all.
I want to die.
Keeping my curtains closed, away from the sun and light.
No hope and no will.
My soul has enclosed.
I don't know what to do anymore, what I want to do anymore.
I don't want to do anything actually.
I want to just lie here, and wait to die...
Slowly, but surely.
I hate my family, I want nothing to do with those fake narcissistic spineless cowards with souls that stink of stail ****** protruding ***** 🤢
I have to money, nowhere to go.
No motivation and passion to get me going.
I am like the grinch, the joker, Harley Quinn, the raven, catwoman, and a lion all in one.
However, now I am nothing.
Not even human.
Not even breathing.
All I want is someone to connect with deeply.
I've been alone for so long I don't even know how to get attached to anyone.
I stay completely detached and alienated.
Completely isolated and away from people.
People only make me feel more lonely.
I only want that one person who understands.
I don't want worthless fools of Shallow ****** people to even try to understand me.
I like to be not understood.
How can you expect a big foot to fit into a small shoe?
It never will unless you break your ****** ugly toes.
Or, get a bigger size.
My point exactly.
People are so ****** obsessed with me and my energy.
I want nothing to do with any of them.
They can't help but pry, and stalk, and watch my every motive like a hawk.
It's ****** head drilling!!
Stay the **** away!!!
I only want one person, the person who is for me and only me.
I don't give a **** about anyone else
Apr 4, 2022
Apr 4, 2022 at 12:32 PM UTC