"pathetically" poems
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
I don't know how to write happy poems
because I don't really believe in them.
I thought angst would die with adolescence,
but alas I can still feel its cold dint.
Perhaps like virginity this goes too;
no longer a creep standing idly by.
Plastic smiles taped to our cardboard faces
and yours alone I felt the need to prise.
That's okay, because the teenaged rosebud
that we claim to be so very unique
is beginning to wither, can't you see?
And now it's the thorns society seeks.
So look out over yonder cityscape.
Your mask shall be shed only by the moon.
Until then, a cartographer of love;
yours that is, we'll still pathetically swoon.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
When everything dies an angel plays a tune
When everything leaves me is it bad to assume
That hatred is what keeps me strong ?
Though I could be wrong...
First mother then father now even my grandpa
Have all disappeared...like the lirycs of a forgotten song
Another day ends in defeat, another time I end up beat
Whats the point of ever even trying ?
If I would say that I am okey I would be lying
Its fine to die...we are all the same
Here hold this determinded flame...
Its all I have left....
Will someone take my hand ?
Or did my life already begin to end,
Like my father who has pathetically killed himself
A Umi who is left without any friend
Is worth nothing at all, maybe this is the right time, to take my fall
I cant take this anymore, not the blood I bled,
My vision begins to slowly turn red
Is this what is called fate ? Is this what I get ?
But we are not our past...not our fears..
Please someone rest with me...
Let me breathe and set me free,
Even if this wretched world with all its flaws might be beautiful
I don't want to be part of it anymore,
I want to rise into the heavens and soar..
I want to be free
HELP ME
~ Umi
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
They say love comes unexpectedly
But they never told me how it leaves
Suddenly, painfully, helplessly
And this is just another poem about you
But unlike the other ones from before
It's the last of it all, with no more
See I already felt it coming
Long before it all fell apart
Before it shattered my living heart
Usually in books, they talk about heartbreaks
Emotional stress, vulnerability, and crying
But they never mentioned physical heart aches
The throbbing, and the sobbing
And what feels like a bullet clashing
Every millisecond, pounding, literally breaking
And it's something chocolates can't fix
And obviously, neither will the chick-flicks
Something not even sleep could do the trick
I've realized we grew apart
Became distant, not just because of the miles
Already separating us apart
And I know I've pushed you away
Leaving you in dismay
Unsure of tomorrow, scared of yesterday
But I didn't know you knew
Knowledged of the game I've put you through
Unaware that you could hurt me too
Now all's been said and done
I've lost the better part of me, my number one
My lover, my bestfriend, all gone
Unlike other scenarios, I choose to act differently
I aim to take it well, and not selflessly
I won't let my vulnerability get to me
And now I know better
Right now pathetically missing you
Wouldn't do
And someday, hopefully
We'll meet again, in a parallel universe
Within each other's existence, unknowingly
Maybe then, in another life, I could love you
But for now thank you for the pain and tragedy
I needed it for my poetry.
-djs
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
Finally this day has come.
To get another go with the sun,
A year has it been since the daylight shun.
The shadows of Mordor were almost to get me done.
What a fine day to have an adventure.
Having to save a princess as a departure.
The signs are being obvious
Birds are flying back to the Mountain,
There is no time to be in bore,
I need to hurry and reclaim back my Erebor.
I’m in wonder of what she is doing.
Probably she made plans already by now.
Or maybe she didn’t decide on going.
Thought that she might be Lonely under the Mountain.
I have to get going to save her plain,
Must get her out quickly of that fiery chain.
But wait, What’s this?
My legs are unable to move.
Why is my heart trembling with fear?
I’ve been waiting for this my entire time,
I don’t get it.
I don’t get it at all.
I’m shaking pathetically,
This is getting ridiculously annoying.
Move it! Why is my body not responding?
I can’t control my body no more
It’s totally stuck!
Is the sun causing this?
But I’m no troll to be affected by this.
I’m the Bilbo on this journey,
I’m the appointed burglar
To steal the precious Arkenstone
So what’s happening now really?
Am I scared that much
That my own body is doing what I should be doing?
If this fear is about the journey I’ll take,
The dangers I’ll encounter,
The perils I’ll meet.
That wouldn’t be a serious problem for me not to go.
But it’s different.
This doesn’t make sense.
I need to get rid of this fence.
But It’s no use,
I’m stuck in this hole in fuse.
Stuck in this Shire,
While that desolator Smaug is causing fire.
I’ve forgotten the time.
The shadows are back.
Here I am underneath the moon’s refine,
Standing still in charcoal leather black
Not resisting anymore.
I completely stood in my own accord.
Tears are spilling down my face.
I can feel in my veins the sorrow,
And thinking about it made me wonder
If I can make it til tomorrow.
Then,
So sudden it came to me in a flash
The reason why I did not move
Why I did not meet her.
It’s because a year ago I was there.
In front of her.
My precious Arkenstone Under the Mountains
The kings jewel.
The jewel that rejected my tiny hands,
That reached beyond the Middle of Earth
Just for her.
The same jewel that replaced me with a greed of a dragon.
That burned the glow of what’s inside me.
And now I remember it all.
Clear as the sky above me.
I am no Bilbo Baggins.
There is no treasure waiting for me.
No adventure as destination.
Because this,
This is just the Anniversary of my Rejection.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
You laid me down gently,
Just as gentle as i wanted.
You reassured me of my uncertainty.
You made sure i was okay.
There was that cold tightness in my chest,
That sank right through me until
I could feel it in my spine.
As this feeling has once left me scared and shaken,
I made my decision.
Than you made your first move,
And all the colors i have ever seen lit up my mind.
And a fire lit in my stomach and the flames moved up my spine.
Until you reached my neck and arranged a small kiss.
Your lips extinguished my fire and left my bones bare.
Hold on for dear life,
I felt something adjust inside me.
And that was not as suggestion for the actions at hand.
But something happened in my soul
That left me forever thirsting for your touch.
Not in the desirous way i had before,
But as though the atoms of my heart,
And every particle that made up the pathetically helpless being i call myself,
Needed you.
They would not be the same without you,
i am stuck on you.
Addicted to you.
And every moment without you feels like sudden death,
A draw of my logical mind and these particles of my being.
Its absolutely absurd how reliant i am on you.
Well i have no other way to put it,
But in the least poetic and mysterious way possible,
I guess that's what happens when you take a lonely girl's virginity.
They become addicted.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
to him,
she was his escape,
his ever present lighthouse.
as shadows creeped up his vision,
he would go to her
seeking temporary paradise
in an unforgiving world
that would pass judgement
on those that failed
to meet their quota
it calmed him.
to be able
to completely surrender himself
to someone so pleasurably cruel
each whip lash,
each biting scar,
each punishing slap,
each delicious sting from candle wax,
his neck wrapped in a collar
his skin marred by abuse
yet he couldn't help but ask
for more
more
more
he would beg
and she would give it to him.
he let himself drift away
until nothing more
than welcomed thoughts of her
invaded his once clustered mind
he would do anything for her.
only for her.
that was his duty
as her loyal pet
to her,
no words needed
to be said
he was nothing more
than an animal
trained to
satisfy her
in bed.
that's how its always been
with her partners being
lustful creatures
forever seeking an outlet
for their suppressed desires
but she couldn't help
but think that this one
this insignificant little pet
would be the one
to stay by her side
then again,
that's what she thought
about everyone else before him
but she'd gladly wait
and see if
this one was any different
the least she could do
would be to enjoy herself
and savor the moment
of being able to call
this pathetically beautiful beast
as her own.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
Im not so poetic
Seem to trip up on my words
They came stumbling down the stairs,
And-- up and out the door
Landed right at your feet
Delivered so pathetically
But that's no rare thing
Your presence, it what you do to me
Made you (one) crack a smile
So you stayed for a while
And (two) sentences later I was staring back at the ground
So you (three) held my hand
And I finally I understand . . .
That you just ask me to be me, (four)
And nothing more
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
You know why I'm obsessed with makeup?
You know why I literally BREAK. DOWN. when I see myself in the mirror on one of those REALLY ugly days that I have?
You know why I seem f!cking vain and beauty obsessed and attention seeking because of how self-deprecating I am?
You know why I am currently crying...alone...on my bedroom floor...kind of pathetically?
Because now I'm a little bit scared
That maybe I DO have a disease of the mind
Maybe I DO have something in my head that isn't right
It just seems so impossible
Because I mean
I look in the mirror
And all I see is this hideous shameful beastly girl
So ugly
In fact, I genuinely feel terrible for the people who have to look at me
and I don't know why
I just don't see how anybody could ever possibly think that I am pretty
And for some reasons I'm crying right now
And I feel really alone
But no no no
There is no way I really have dysmorphia
Is there?
I feel embarrassed
Like I come across shallow
And stupid
And makeup obsessed
Because I can't ever see myself as pretty
NOT EVEN ONCE
not even decent
Not even reasonable
I just. see. UGLY.
and ashamed of my face,
And ashamed of my obsession
With cosmetics
Because it is like the only medicine they made
To fix this affliction
Makeup can make up for how ugly I am
maybe it can fix me
maybe I won't hate myself anymore
but it never does
and I hate crying alone!
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
delicate and limp
they lie between the spaces
amongst hard print on factual papers;
occasionally unrealistic figments
of self deluding fantasy.
“they’re luxuries”, you mumbled,
a lament towards their rare materialization
in your few hours of slumber;
the soft impression leading souls
up the garden path,
misleading for they were
not all that pleasant.
midway after sunset
your heavy breathing is the
silence i hear; your silhouette
limp against the amber lights.
they came once again,
desperation had come
once again.
you squinted into the distant darkness,
“oddities veiled by a coat of blur,
though a fantasy felt as tangible
as the touch of skin;
i’d fall endlessly down the pit.
most of all, pathetically i had no one to
catch me.”
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
you’re my cup of coffee at 6:45 AM
smell dancing like incense in the middle of pooja
warm as the sun peaking out shyly behind the horizon
richly sweet caramelized sugar pearly cream
and bitter like the small things i dont know about you yet.
but when you touch my lips
the bitterness i can swallow with the sweet
and the sweet i savor with every taste bud on my tongue.
before i head out the door at 7 AM
i kiss your forehead and wash out the emptied mug
but the taste of cappucino lingers at the corners of my mouth
as i wave good day to you.
and when i return at 5:30 PM
limbs pathetically sown on with prayers
empty rivers landfills of worry time ticking like a heartbeat
the aroma wafts around me again like a scarf.
in your embrace
i fall asleep with dreams of whipped clouds and
love at the cafe.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Th poems were walking down the street
A young teenage girl,
A Professional Loser, but life lessoned and in possession of
Eagled-claws and tongue razored sharpened
From gettin/givin acidic high school barbed kisses
(She maintained up to date put down lists),
Swooped them up, hers to imprison,
Framed them to be soully hers,
Purposed for skin restoration during the wee hours of the
Crying Nights
A middle aged man, tired from failure,
Trapped tween lost rock n' roll dreams and
Unsuccessful retirement planning,
Suffocated by the hands of twixt and tween,
Grabbed the three, like a rock climbing hand-hold to
Take him home when and where his family looks at him
Pathetically.
This grandfather espied the other two,
Looked liked old familiars, friends maybe,
But eyes/words, dimmed, disparu,
Memories unsorted, disordered, jumble-merged,
Perhaps the words to a song he once knew complete,
But did he write that phrase, or was he just a poet
Thief?
The three poems went about their business,
Bringing heaven to earth,
*FYI, even Angels can't be everywhere, so,
God invented poems to do his ***** work,
Cleansing souls.*
They rode in~out of town on a prankster wave,
A cheering throng was not around,
But a singular poet saw, recorded the vision,
And thus, this nameless poet,
Below unmasked, unsealed,
Cleansed one more soul,
And that soul, this soul, as required,
Paid it forward.
Paid as in the past tense
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
DEFINITION OF *****
I question your gimmick
Lame limericks
Their cryptic
More mystic
Unrealistic
Ya ****** it
On chronic
Contagious like the bubonic
Hooked hydroponics
Pathetically neurotic
So drop it
your **** ain't ****
Just tragically prosthetic
Prophetical ********
You think that u know ****
You blow it
Thats classic.
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
Its 101 basic
I didn't quit this
You lost it
Worth only Drunken kisses
I'm pretty when you chase it
Your too shallow to accept it
Together we're right
But my body ain't tight
To ur likes
its your ****
That's a *****
Only looks for them tricks
Your dellusionally idiotic
To think that ya got it
When trix are for kids
Your games hit and miss
Happily ever afters not bliss
First loves kiss is just a playlist
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
You Can't find love in this mess
Be a girl wear a dress
Listen more talk less
Don't change who you are
Just your flesh
Tell the truth is said to me
Love was free for the taking
Or so I believed
Your lies used as feed
But your pet I am not
Yeah I guess you forgot
What yo ma shoulda taught
That one shots all life's got
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
The good bits stole away
By this crap game you play
All day, you just sway
On your way
Thinking your owed
By some ****** up code
But your method or mode
Is about to explode
Like mace
In your face
With no trace
Your erased
You ain't even today
Your the past, Yesterday
Can't change that
My ma used to say
Just look for tomorrow
in your ARKs of today
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME
****
YOU MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
THATS WHY YOU'LL ALWAYS BE *****
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Who else in this inhumane edifice
can dance while the suspecting eyes stare
at his moistened armpit?
Pathetically unknowing music uplifts not just the soul but the intellect.
Who else got the fire in imparting?
or …
did theirs even start a single spark since then?
Who else brings out the best in these hopefuls?
It’s all the worse and worst that they see.
And you think San Pedro would be pleased
when you gloat you made all the priests, doctors, and engineers?
Woe to you who humiliate the chair by your indolent butts
while uttering kindergartenous blabbers you claim to be education!
Then you get all you want while tabula rasa remains tabula rasa.
And you
You seated on the higher chairs!
Why don’t you trample down awhile
and put your cataracting sight to use
before it even brings you to the death of light.
Has anyone of you even heard what your god told to Pontius Pilate?
Ha! The you-have-no-power-over-me’s have always been impervious to you bigots!
And you say to your kin let me handle it.
When it is delayed and their impatience grows
you see they’ll leave.
Did you ever fret about deadlines
of bills, of matriculas, of debts?
What do you feed to your clan? Feeds?
Get Ripley’s here!
Oh how divine to utter all the Fs!
©Glenn L. Sentes
February 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
holding on to each other like braids
tiring day for both you and I fades
my hair was a set of obstacle
but you oddly looked like a miracle
boy you're so special
let me be your favorite gal
like that old cute spouse
like Minnie to Mickey mouse
I'm pathetically in love with you
now tell me a lie that sounds so true
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
A line
A stitch
In time
Seams
To tend
To mend
This mind
Of mine
Scars
Each line
Rewind
To remind
You'll know
When I sent it
That I meant it
If it rhymed
A line
A stitch
In time
Seams
To tend
To mend
This pathetically
poetic
mind
Of mine
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
* *A tear is shed
For those who are blind to the beauty of this world
Who can only feast on sarcasm, writhing in irony
* *It soon evaporates.
Pictures of a future dressed in ribbons and lace, cast off and burned
Pictures of the future carrying disdainful dystopia, infamous for invalids
Hung to admire in sublime distaste by those that seek knowledge
And see the repetitious antiquities of time that come to pass
But others care not for plans and the imminent
Those that keep to the light of the gas
And carry the past to the present
Hoping for trends to try again, reliving what they had never lived
Laconic and loquacious in emotions and words
Against the gossip, but paradoxically
Pushing for the creation of their “ritualistic social Golgotha”.
Those who abuse the glory of their munificent, malicious mentality
Pathetically unable to procure authentic happiness
A tear is shed.
Inside the recesses of the soul where emotions dare not dwell.
It too evaporates.
Trapped in fear and the “cliched harlequin speech of suicide”
Begging for the masses to cast them out and find each other
A tear is shed.
Never seen but felt as it evaporates.
Felt by those who envelop themselves inside themselves
Those who plagiarize their sick self-conscious souls
Those who bring about the very misfortune they strive to devour
Those who are effortlessly envied as they exploit their habitual recreations
By those who wouldn’t dream of falsified euphoria
Those who bastardise and deface the name of creative individualism
As waters of the soul are purged and discarded
They are felt by those
And are quickly washed away in doubt and regret
Keeping to the light of the gas, dangerous and warm
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
I never dreamed of dreaming of you.
Every time our fingers are intertwined,
forgetting everything bad that has happened in this life.
You squeeze my hand tighter.
I'm exactly where I need to be.
I'm exactly where I want to be.
The way it fits so perfectly, your hand in mine. The way your multicolored eyes light up when you smile, the way your smile makes me smile, the way your lips move when you conjure words, the way your eyes..
I've already said something about your eyes, they're rather easy to get lost in,
lost in thought about the way your voice enters my mind and doesn't seem to want to leave, I am without a doubt, completely, pathetically in love with your voice, hoping that it and you will not become just another voice bouncing, bouncing aimlessly off the walls in my skull.
I've already said something about your eyes, they're rather easy to get lost in.
-h
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
You think you're a rebel?
So charming and laughable
You defy the norm?
You are not unique
You're just another copy
You can't even be yourself
so pathetically and easily influenced.
layers and layers that hide the real you,
do you even know who you are anymore?
Nor do I
I'm a hypocrite
Who does anyway?
Lost, buried and never found,
never to be again.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC
i hate myself/
and thats why/
im not living inside of my body/
im living inside my brain/
my heart is cold and hard because/
you never touch me with kindness/
you always hold my fragile body with hostility/
my weak body drapes pathetically over your arm/
i melt/
you always charm me and thats why/
i’m crying/
you lied to me/
im stuck wondering who killed me only to find that/
im looking in a mirror/
covered in blood/
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 10:15 PM UTC
I wonder…
Wherever this nebulous varmint is
Here, there, everywhere
Does he ever look to himself in shame
He who leaves his iniquitous stains
For all the hatred he lays claim?
He gives tongue to the anemic, weakened mettle
Wheezing his nidorous, putrid breath into its chambers
Leaving behind his dark, black, deadly whispers
Of desolated emptiness his demonic sinister
He entombs them alive those he perversely abducts
To his Cimmerian, shadowy hell
Slither back to your bottomless pit
You tenebrous angel from purgatory
You don’t deserve a capital ‘A’ for angel
In your God forsaken name
Demon of greed and endless shame
Conjuring up ways to wickedly ensnare those
Who’ve weakly stumbled to their knees
You were cast down from the Great One’s Home
You don't deserve this world to roam
This is ‘Lights Out’
The demise of you and me and everything I used to be!
Don’t hurl me your meager crumbs of wretched love
As you wickedly tally my teardrops in The Mighty’s rain
You menacing angel I recognize your despicable fame
I’m through dancing to your stygian, sooty song
Go back to Hades where you chose to belong
You cheat; you lie with your unlit, callous façade
You Cerberus hound from hell you are not from my loving God
At long last I see behind your lurid, false masquerade
You malevolent angel cast from Heaven
I pray, you incubus, you succubus
Recoil back to your wicked inferno
Go crawling back to your lake of fire
Ye who chose crepuscular, selfish desire
And...
Pathetically became you
______________________
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
(I mean it Ma,
Click back now
I’d rather not scar you
Or cost us even more money
On therapy)
The first time I had ***
I felt horribly guilty afterwards
I can only guess as to why
Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
The one thrusting and holding her up
The one that didn’t get to ***
The first go around
The one to wash their fingers clean in the aftermath
While the ‘girl’ wiped up her nether regions
Put her pants back on
And remained in an ‘aftersex’ glow
Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
That I was the one that ‘took’ something
But whatever the reason
Is irrelevant because within days
This guilt faded
As did any taste of regret
Vaguely reminiscent of the
Taste of her ***
And replacing said guilt
Was love; strong and (now) poignant
Beyond my years
And she is gone; literally so,
Thus replacing said love
Was pain; strong and poignant
Beyond my years
Replacing said pain
Was another type
Quite common of my age
A madly bruised hand
To be exact;
Courtesy of my teenage idiocy
Replacing my physical pain and idiocy
Was another girl
One that could never be ‘her’
I cannot kiss this girl
It’s all so different
All so ******* wrong
I can’t stand her braces
And the taste of sour milk
That is always marinating in her mouth
I can’t stand this girl
But it is not her fault
It’s, to mimic a cliché,
It’s me, not her
And I am, genuinely,
Sorry for her
But I am so, extremely, pathetically
More sorry
For myself
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
They bring with them the baggage of men
the lost children attempting pathetically
to recreate the aura of time long gone.
If you discount the roughness of skin
travel past the thick hedge of beard
penetrate the silt on the eroded eyes
you can delayer the hardened coats
and get to see faces barely recognizable.
Some were once too close to be missed
their names and all
but most you could hardly recall
and it agonizes your thought
were they in the same class or not.
You smile till your jaws ache
fetching stories from the blue
dazzlingly colored and half true
for they are all in the mood
to joyfully succumb to falsehood.
You could tell from the body language
who's in the backburner
and who on the front page.
Forty years break and make men
but they feign happiness
to be united again.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC