"respawned" poems - Hello Poetry

I apologize Baby I’ve been trying, nothing seems to cover up the pain I’ve been trying, holding on, holding on Baby I’ve been trying, nothing seems to cover up the pain I’ve been trying, holding on, holding on Holding on to your pain forever I'm just holding on, holding on to your pain I been holding on to this pain for such a long time, trying to outfight my demons put it to rest, had to get it off my chest ease this dreaded stress, first let me start off by stating I take full responsibility this is an apology, I know sorry can't fix everything but maybe it'll soothe your pain Sitting here sniffing the pleasant stench of your favorite sweater, reminding me it makes no sense of how I treated you, your love was innocent so raw it's pure, I made you ashamed you got taken for granted caused you so much pain a strain on your heart, it's all my fault failed my part couldn't protect your heart it turned dark, decayed your love it's nonexistent for a new lover you spite men you hate me, sinister you plot vengeance a demon I created leaving you frustrated caused you to miscarriage you want me castrated cause of dying breed, you forgot how to love tormenting your heart to cover up the pain a demon I created attempted sucide your soul can't take it, Seems you survived respawned just to destroy to me trama that I created I apologize for your pain these words are not confessed in vain, repeated karma my father did the same thing to mama warfare of generational curse trying to break the shackles can't drag this heavy chain no more my strength deteriorating, emotional abuse I cause in the past is my irresonspility of love I rebuke it painful mistakes I made I apologize I am ashamed in due time I hope this poem ease your pain love is a learned lesson but still can't fix pain I want you to forgive me for yourself not for me, can't keep holding on I want you to love again no suffering I apologize Baby I’ve been trying, nothing seems to cover up the pain I’ve been trying, holding on, holding on Baby I’ve been trying, nothing seems to cover up the pain I’ve been trying, holding on, holding on Holding on to your pain forever I'm just holding on, holding on to your pain

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Oct 23, 2018

Oct 23, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC

We are all treading water Trying to keep our heads above the waves Same game Different methods of beating bosses in every victorious match Dealing with maps encountered everywhere progressed in this world No matter how complicated the terrain or what difficulty the opposition is set to Just multiple devils disguised as characters to test character and integrity In the digital world if mistakes are made get to retry levels until you get it right If you die That death does not equal a permanent zap out of existence but instead is more like a breif catnap Then you are magically healed and respawned like a phoenix rising from the ash and ruin The same miracle does not work like that in reality When our time comes we are banished from this living hell we have named Earth to reside in a perpetual pitch-black exile There is no consolation prize Bonus round Final scoring or tallying of points to alter the outcome of events The only resemblance the end of a human beings life has to a video game is the "sudden death" part

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Apr 8, 2020

Apr 8, 2020 at 2:10 AM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

Sudden Death

We are all treading water Trying to keep our heads above the waves Same game Different methods of beating bosses in every victorious match Dealing with maps encountered everywhere progressed in this world No matter how complicated the terrain or what difficulty the opposition is set to Just multiple devils disguised as characters to test character and integrity In the digital world if mistakes are made get to retry levels until you get it right If you die That death does not equal a permanent zap out of existence but instead is more like a breif catnap Then you are magically healed and respawned like a phoenix rising from the ash and ruin The same miracle does not work like that in reality When our time comes we are banished from this living hell we have named Earth to reside in a perpetual pitch-black exile There is no consolation prize Bonus round Final scoring or tallying of points to alter the outcome of events The only resemblance the end of a human beings life has to a video game is the "sudden death" part

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wearing blue uniforms in different patterns, see-through embroidered shirts, suits and ties the lead force knows what we need and what should be done; the revolutionists and communists or perhaps citizens beware these elevated-angels can no longer be reached, we’re down in the sewers, in the gutters their leader is faceless, faceless faces like shadows you can never win against nor at least inflict harm to they are everywhere monitoring us in our private moments, the shadows cast upon the light of our television sets in our living room with its lights turned off, the paranoia in the streets where cctvs serves as a notion that someone is watching us observing our delayed bills, monthly salaries and taxes along with our debts and its interests. the short-sweet remedy is its scent from the entertainment shows that has strong amplified hypnotizing voice from artists forcing us to accept all their opinions are lawful and just the guardians of the traffic roads respawned by the motherlings and the all time fathers of the unknown; the producers of angry motorists and robbers. the bosses the managers the CEOs the licensed practitioners they all gain a part of the gift of their path and no alternative force can stop them. their vital strength also serves as their fatal weakness and they are glad that the cycle is almost stable. they all belong to a one big underground family tree, bound to make humanity suffer, taken away from the essence and purpose of living and i’m here on a refuge, smoking every inches of cigarettes i could light. writing the words down like a *** with a signage that says “the end is nigh” and it would take a couple of decades for it to take effect on them to think that they should’ve listened not to me but to the truth.

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Aug 27, 2016

Aug 27, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC

ThedominiqueofregressioN

the leading force

wearing blue uniforms in different patterns, see-through embroidered shirts, suits and ties the lead force knows what we need and what should be done; the revolutionists and communists or perhaps citizens beware these elevated-angels can no longer be reached, we’re down in the sewers, in the gutters their leader is faceless, faceless faces like shadows you can never win against nor at least inflict harm to they are everywhere monitoring us in our private moments, the shadows cast upon the light of our television sets in our living room with its lights turned off, the paranoia in the streets where cctvs serves as a notion that someone is watching us observing our delayed bills, monthly salaries and taxes along with our debts and its interests. the short-sweet remedy is its scent from the entertainment shows that has strong amplified hypnotizing voice from artists forcing us to accept all their opinions are lawful and just the guardians of the traffic roads respawned by the motherlings and the all time fathers of the unknown; the producers of angry motorists and robbers. the bosses the managers the CEOs the licensed practitioners they all gain a part of the gift of their path and no alternative force can stop them. their vital strength also serves as their fatal weakness and they are glad that the cycle is almost stable. they all belong to a one big underground family tree, bound to make humanity suffer, taken away from the essence and purpose of living and i’m here on a refuge, smoking every inches of cigarettes i could light. writing the words down like a *** with a signage that says “the end is nigh” and it would take a couple of decades for it to take effect on them to think that they should’ve listened not to me but to the truth.

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