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"sadness" poems
I LOVE MYSELF With all my flaws In my Beautifulness, In my mistakes, In my weakness, In my darkness. I love myself, because I am worth it. I am a high power person who can move mountains with my love, thoughts and dreams I am good, kind, funny, full of life and love, contagious with my explosive energy Some things may be equally essential but nothing is more important than loving oneself And at this moment the love I have for myself goes above and beyond. It could reach the end of the universe if I just unwrap it I love me in my inane, craziest, sanest, beautiful twisted, darkest and funniest way I love me in a way that no one does I love me in my fullest woes I am everything that I can and will be I am frightfully proud of my flaws and proudly wearing them as no one is perfect This is the start of a new journey to me The journey of love and self acceptance The journey to fully embrace and value my own self I allow myself to fall in my stupidest and biggest way, just to get back up and catch my breath again Failure will not stop me but make me stronger I am fully seeing me and smiling at my imperfected and distorted reflection Hugging myself so tightly, refusing to let go The more I am spending time with me, The more and more my love grows Is it bad for my health ? I do not think so. It’s true, I am better, happier, more free, powerful, at peace The sun is shining on me I don’t need no help to be beautiful, ‘cause I’ve got me I’ve got that uncontainable light from within me I am smoldering a treasure, sharing laughter, joy and sadness with myself I have learnt the phases of myself So distant from that little insecure girl I used to know As I allow her opinions to matter I have accepted her difference Her different kind of beauty, I have learned to love This feeling of wholeness, self acceptance, comfort and love, is liberating I wrap myself around my contorted and beautiful else to form a ME As I am, Raw and Real
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
Me, Myself and I
I LOVE MYSELF With all my flaws In my Beautifulness, In my mistakes, In my weakness, In my darkness. I love myself, because I am worth it. I am a high power person who can move mountains with my love, thoughts and dreams I am good, kind, funny, full of life and love, contagious with my explosive energy Some things may be equally essential but nothing is more important than loving oneself And at this moment the love I have for myself goes above and beyond. It could reach the end of the universe if I just unwrap it I love me in my inane, craziest, sanest, beautiful twisted, darkest and funniest way I love me in a way that no one does I love me in my fullest woes I am everything that I can and will be I am frightfully proud of my flaws and proudly wearing them as no one is perfect This is the start of a new journey to me The journey of love and self acceptance The journey to fully embrace and value my own self I allow myself to fall in my stupidest and biggest way, just to get back up and catch my breath again Failure will not stop me but make me stronger I am fully seeing me and smiling at my imperfected and distorted reflection Hugging myself so tightly, refusing to let go The more I am spending time with me, The more and more my love grows Is it bad for my health ? I do not think so. It’s true, I am better, happier, more free, powerful, at peace The sun is shining on me I don’t need no help to be beautiful, ‘cause I’ve got me I’ve got that uncontainable light from within me I am smoldering a treasure, sharing laughter, joy and sadness with myself I have learnt the phases of myself So distant from that little insecure girl I used to know As I allow her opinions to matter I have accepted her difference Her different kind of beauty, I have learned to love This feeling of wholeness, self acceptance, comfort and love, is liberating I wrap myself around my contorted and beautiful else to form a ME As I am, Raw and Real
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good weather is like good women- it doesn't always happen and when it does it doesn't always last. man is more stable: if he's bad there's more chance he'll stay that way, or if he's good he might hang on, but a woman is changed by children age diet conversation *** the moon the absence or presence of sun or good times. a woman must be nursed into subsistence by love where a man can become stronger by being hated. I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar and I remember the cows I once painted in Art class and they looked good they looked better than anything in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar wondering which to love and which to hate, but the rules are gone: I love and hate only myself- they stand outside me like an orange dropped from the table and rolling away; it's what I've got to decide: **** myself or love myself? which is the treason? where's the information coming from? books...like broken glass: I wouldn't wipe my *** with 'em yet, it's getting darker, see? (we drink here and speak to each other and seem knowing.) buy the cow with the biggest **** buy the cow with the biggest **** present arms. the bartender slides me a beer it runs down the bar like an Olympic sprinter and the pair of pliers that is my hand stops it, lifts it, golden **** of dull temptation, I drink and stand there the weather bad for cows but my brush is ready to stroke up the green grass straw eye sadness takes me all over and I drink the beer straight down order a shot fast to give me the guts and the love to go on. from "poems written before jumping out of an 8 story window" - 1966
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126.7k
Cows In Art Class
good weather is like good women- it doesn't always happen and when it does it doesn't always last. man is more stable: if he's bad there's more chance he'll stay that way, or if he's good he might hang on, but a woman is changed by children age diet conversation *** the moon the absence or presence of sun or good times. a woman must be nursed into subsistence by love where a man can become stronger by being hated. I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar and I remember the cows I once painted in Art class and they looked good they looked better than anything in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar wondering which to love and which to hate, but the rules are gone: I love and hate only myself- they stand outside me like an orange dropped from the table and rolling away; it's what I've got to decide: **** myself or love myself? which is the treason? where's the information coming from? books...like broken glass: I wouldn't wipe my *** with 'em yet, it's getting darker, see? (we drink here and speak to each other and seem knowing.) buy the cow with the biggest **** buy the cow with the biggest **** present arms. the bartender slides me a beer it runs down the bar like an Olympic sprinter and the pair of pliers that is my hand stops it, lifts it, golden **** of dull temptation, I drink and stand there the weather bad for cows but my brush is ready to stroke up the green grass straw eye sadness takes me all over and I drink the beer straight down order a shot fast to give me the guts and the love to go on. from "poems written before jumping out of an 8 story window" - 1966
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84
Imagine your eyes speaking. Are you one of those blind followers? One of those who just let their eyes see good to feel good? Avoiding injustice, poverty, sadness, racism. Imagine what your eyes would tell you.
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Eyes
I want to sleep forever and reside in my dreams            To frolic through a collage of different spectacles and scenes                 An escape from the insufferable, cruel world at large I want to sleep forever I want to sleep forever so I can live in my dreams            The ruler of the lands, the queen of all kings                With nothing to fear but the darkside of the conscience I want to sleep forever I want to sleep forever and fight my inner demons         Provide peace of mind for all bothered and exhausted               Float on utter bliss; those monsters, I'll never miss I want to sleep forever I want to sleep forever and never show sadness again         Bright, long-lasting smiles on weekly sullen days              Created and maintained in a variety of ways I want to sleep forever I want to sleep forever to erase everything        I want to sleep forever and feel warmth again            To bathe myself in content that won't ever end Let me sleep forever
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Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
Lucid
Clothes have outgrown me many times over, but this sadness never does. One size. fits all. There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you. Wishing these slits within my skin could have been replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.” My name causes a sigh to escape from lips, that do not feel like they belong to me, the girl, whose words always had to be special. The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain, born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child. Never trusting time due to what it delivers. Death, being the only thing I desired. But you,  who I love, endlessly- robbed by it. Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly. Stopped comparing depression to lace, restricted the belief that suicide is poetic, seeing things as they were. More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply. Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes. This world is not tender. II. Sad. I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral, knowing how many bouquets honored you that day. split open my veins like a dimension reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds. My family wondered, can we make it through another day? Death scares me for what it has taken, yet, I’m not afraid to die- it’s all I deserve. So I await the day pain erupts from my throat, acknowledging the days a soul lived inside of my body- footprints that walked, belonging to me. But I learned so well. How to suffer with a smile, dreading the beating of my heart how unfair— I don’t want to take these deep breaths You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed. III. Jokes played by the universe. punchlines delivered, how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself? How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets, and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them? How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought- of knowing people would thrive without me, or the power of a belly laugh, resembling a laugh track audience drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Writing Suicide Notes In Gel Pen
Clothes have outgrown me many times over, but this sadness never does. One size. fits all. There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you. Wishing these slits within my skin could have been replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.” My name causes a sigh to escape from lips, that do not feel like they belong to me, the girl, whose words always had to be special. The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain, born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child. Never trusting time due to what it delivers. Death, being the only thing I desired. But you,  who I love, endlessly- robbed by it. Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly. Stopped comparing depression to lace, restricted the belief that suicide is poetic, seeing things as they were. More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply. Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes. This world is not tender. II. Sad. I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral, knowing how many bouquets honored you that day. split open my veins like a dimension reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds. My family wondered, can we make it through another day? Death scares me for what it has taken, yet, I’m not afraid to die- it’s all I deserve. So I await the day pain erupts from my throat, acknowledging the days a soul lived inside of my body- footprints that walked, belonging to me. But I learned so well. How to suffer with a smile, dreading the beating of my heart how unfair— I don’t want to take these deep breaths You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed. III. Jokes played by the universe. punchlines delivered, how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself? How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets, and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them? How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought- of knowing people would thrive without me, or the power of a belly laugh, resembling a laugh track audience drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
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you don't understand at all do you not truly you think I'm a liar that I still hold the knife that stabbed you in the back [and in the heart] kinda speechless that you feel that way think that way believe it untrustworthy? misleading? false emotions? can you not read? here let me try again maybe I can make it like braille feel the words it's like when the clouds stormy eyes welled up and let fall the tears of weekend rain soggy, we laughed along with the thunder and under our waterfall we let the windows fog tell me I lied then or picture if you will standing by the tree I always parked by it was a starry night, but we didn't see it we were too focused on our faces except why is it I was the only one drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes shaking with each strained, choppy breath clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket do you think that was all for show? haven't you looked at my collection of black and white silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible trying as hard as I can to leave it all on the paper but it's as if each word I write is a tattoo slowly invading every part of my skin it's sinking in, it's staining everything do you think this agony I speak of is fake? if so if I am that liar with the knife who led you astray and ******* you over" let you down, kicked you around if you can't seem to open your eyes and notice just how much I love you just how much I always have then you don't deserve it ill run miles for you when I know I only have the strength for one but don't you dare watch me run if you don't even grasp that I stabbed myself in the back led myself astray you have a right to hate the wound but if you can't see what I feel one day I will learn that I have to let go and I will then all these silly letters all for you well. go ahead and throw them away on that day they will carry no life anymore
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Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
run your fingers over the letters
you don't understand at all do you not truly you think I'm a liar that I still hold the knife that stabbed you in the back [and in the heart] kinda speechless that you feel that way think that way believe it untrustworthy? misleading? false emotions? can you not read? here let me try again maybe I can make it like braille feel the words it's like when the clouds stormy eyes welled up and let fall the tears of weekend rain soggy, we laughed along with the thunder and under our waterfall we let the windows fog tell me I lied then or picture if you will standing by the tree I always parked by it was a starry night, but we didn't see it we were too focused on our faces except why is it I was the only one drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes shaking with each strained, choppy breath clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket do you think that was all for show? haven't you looked at my collection of black and white silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible trying as hard as I can to leave it all on the paper but it's as if each word I write is a tattoo slowly invading every part of my skin it's sinking in, it's staining everything do you think this agony I speak of is fake? if so if I am that liar with the knife who led you astray and ******* you over" let you down, kicked you around if you can't seem to open your eyes and notice just how much I love you just how much I always have then you don't deserve it ill run miles for you when I know I only have the strength for one but don't you dare watch me run if you don't even grasp that I stabbed myself in the back led myself astray you have a right to hate the wound but if you can't see what I feel one day I will learn that I have to let go and I will then all these silly letters all for you well. go ahead and throw them away on that day they will carry no life anymore
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Sickness beware, I will be there, Weakness watch out, I'll be her crutch, Sadness, oh you, Can back away, 'Cause I'll keep her from your rain, Anger, calm down, I will stay my ground, Fear, fear me, dare not come near me, Forget about failure, Lose all the lies, All you demons beware, For her, I'll be there.
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC
For Her
Damaged people are dangerous because they know how to survive, And if you've never been damaged you don't know how it feels to be alive, See struggle is the sauce that gives success its flavour, when life kicked you down it was doing you a favour. Cos it's in your darkest hour, not in prosperity that you will realise your true ability. Life dunks you in deep waters not to drown you but to cleanse you. And that's just the beginning of what it will put you through. But it's chiselling you down, you won't deflate. It's not wearing you thin, it's getting you to your fighting weight. Prosperity makes monsters, adversity makes men. I believe when you reach the top life will yank you back down again. You didn't break down, you just had a flat tyre so get back up and relight that fire. keep it burning and churning at the pit of your heart and keep on learning and yearning and never fall apart. Stare life in the eyes and say "no matter how many times my spirit won't break if my drive never dies" So throw me a burden I won't lose my composure, It's for this very reason that life gave me shoulders. Get better not bitter This weather will wither I'll turn wounds into wisdom sadness into spirit tears to tenacity I will never quit it Take a deep breath and concentrate your stare because a road with no obstacles never took you anywhere.
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Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
A road with no obstacles
Ay, the pain it costs me to love you as I love you! For love of you, the air, it hurts, and my heart, and my hat, they hurt me. Who would buy it from me, this ribbon I am holding, and this sadness of cotton, white, for making hankerchiefs with? Ay, the pain it costs me to love you as I love you!
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61.6k
It's True
I feel alone and scared, The long hallway down which i stare, The frightened sadness, Once your pain is gone is there gladness? My memory of you will stay, I will love you to my dying day, The heart of my passion, in you, it lies, We all miss you, sad as we cry. Nan i love you and i will miss you. (I dedicate this poem to my late grandmother, Enis Ramelli)
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Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 9:02 PM UTC
Nan
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it. But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway, it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color). Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel. Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are. Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it. Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking. Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it. Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t. Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine” Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide. Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ****** and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I Know Depression (Slam Poem, Edited Version)
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it. But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway, it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color). Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel. Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are. Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it. Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking. Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it. Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t. Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine” Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide. Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ****** and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.
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most people see me as a happy person because i laugh easily, i smile a lot, i joke a lot. but deep down in my heart, i am fragile, i can get hurt easily, but i choose to not show it to the world. instead of being sad, i choose to laugh to cover it. maybe you can call me "the queen of the mask" by this, you can tell that most of the time when I'm laughing, I'm not really laughing, i was trying so hard to hide my sadness.
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 6:07 AM UTC
A confession.
I’ve now grown and I turned out alright But one day I came to realize That this was not a smooth flight And the scary things that I saw Is the reason why I held on to my seat so tight Now here are the few things That made me hate this horrible, terrible ride         The fact once you realize that your parents are sometimes never right. To see that they are flawed beings, with broken wings and ****** mistakes. To realize the truths and the smiles they fake, Growing up to see only the image portrayed- was only for your sake. They hide the tears and shower us with laughters They told us joyful stories and happily ever afters, But just as soon as i grow Only now that I understand they were telling their own dreams,         That had slipped right out their fingers So ask me what’s the saddest part growing up? To see the hollow sadness from the two people, who once i thought was happiest.
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May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
Plane en route to adulthood
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
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37.3k
Gentle Lady, Do Not Sing
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council. As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line. Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action, Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye, make it through and let this scene shine further more. Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind, Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it. Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight. Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth. A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine. So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again. ~ Umi
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The Rain
And with the first showers Comes the kind of sadness Which only half loved lovers Can feel.
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Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Monsoon
The light wraps you in its mortal flame. Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way against the old propellers of the twighlight that revolves around you. Speechless, my friend, alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead and filled with the lives of fire, pure heir of the ruined day. A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment. The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul, and the things that hide in you come out again so that a blue and palled people your newly born, takes nourishment. Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold: rise, lead and possess a creation so rich in life that its flowers perish and it is full of sadness.
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35.2k
The Light Wraps You
Hope surges upward from your core and to the heart. It warms your blood as your heart crushes into itself twice every second and unbelievably, your mind starts to think of a million and one possibilities. Your hand tingles and finally, after what seemed like eons, you think you are feeling hope again. You start suppressing it out of reflex- an unconscious, uncontrollable action. You push it down, right back to the void it came from but its too late and your lips are curving upwards into a gentle smile. You anticipate euphoria -almost can feel it at the top of your fingertips and you finally let yourself believe and hope. It comes crashing down without warning. For a second, you still smile because your mind could not process the disappointment yet. Then - hurt, sadness, shock - flits through your mind. You still hold on to your hope like a child who refuses to let go of candy. Your smile wavers. But just like grabbing onto handfuls of sand, hope will fall out through your tightly clasped fingers. You realised that your hold on hope is no longer and instead, it is replaced by cold, unforgiving reality. Like an icy slap to your face, like an unexpected kick to the stomach, like a bite from a dog you have always love- that is how disappointment feels like.
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Disappointment
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart— empowered to rise above its circumstances, unweighted, unburdened, unbound, tied only to that which would lift it higher, untethered from anything which would pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it. It's the free heart, quiet and at rest yet jubilant and uncontained, the celebrating heart, the praising heart, the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage, bent on adventure, journey and romance. All the while it's a waiting heart because it's a yielded, led heart— a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD but willingly, quickly to the LORD— a heart that though eagerly anticipating each twisting turn, next horizon and changing path keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery but forever on the Shepherd because it's a heart persuaded that He alone is the Great Reward for which it has always been looking. True joy is only ours when we find an endless source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One! The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else. The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him, desperate for Him to the expense of all else, willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied. Joy and idols, I have learned, do not easily reside together in the same heart. So if I find that joy is chased away the most likely culprits are my own desires. What am I wanting more than Jesus? For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy. There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss to expose all of the hidden idols within me. It's surely those who have suffered the greatest and most frequent losses for Christ who are also most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy. For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself. Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand, but for any with eyes truly opened to see the most precious of times may be those when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand. Rivers of sadness can open up into wide gulfs of endless delight and are often the very courses needed to carry us there. When all is lost, we find to our amazement that, even so, we still have ALL and no one can rob us of it. When He takes everything from us He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
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Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
~ The Joyful Heart ~
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart— empowered to rise above its circumstances, unweighted, unburdened, unbound, tied only to that which would lift it higher, untethered from anything which would pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it. It's the free heart, quiet and at rest yet jubilant and uncontained, the celebrating heart, the praising heart, the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage, bent on adventure, journey and romance. All the while it's a waiting heart because it's a yielded, led heart— a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD but willingly, quickly to the LORD— a heart that though eagerly anticipating each twisting turn, next horizon and changing path keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery but forever on the Shepherd because it's a heart persuaded that He alone is the Great Reward for which it has always been looking. True joy is only ours when we find an endless source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One! The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else. The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him, desperate for Him to the expense of all else, willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied. Joy and idols, I have learned, do not easily reside together in the same heart. So if I find that joy is chased away the most likely culprits are my own desires. What am I wanting more than Jesus? For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy. There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss to expose all of the hidden idols within me. It's surely those who have suffered the greatest and most frequent losses for Christ who are also most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy. For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself. Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand, but for any with eyes truly opened to see the most precious of times may be those when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand. Rivers of sadness can open up into wide gulfs of endless delight and are often the very courses needed to carry us there. When all is lost, we find to our amazement that, even so, we still have ALL and no one can rob us of it. When He takes everything from us He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
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56
Sunrise, sunset Sunrise, sunset Swiftly go the days. Sunrise, sunset You wake up then you undress. It always is the same. The sunrise and the sunsets You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain the sunrise and the sunsets. You realized then you forgot what you've been trying to retain. But everybody knows that it is all about the things that get stuck inside of your head, like the song your roommate sings or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed. She raises her hands in the air, asked you, when was the last time you looked in the mirror? 'Cause you've changed. Yeah, you've changed. Sunrises, sunsets You're hopeful then you regret. The circle never breaks. With a sunrise or a sunset there's a change of heart or address. Is there nothing that remains for a sunrise or a sunset? You're manic and depressed. Will you ever feel okay? For a sunrise or a sunset your lover is an actress. Did you really think she'd stay for a sunrise or a sunset? You're either coming or you just left, but you're always on the way towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet. They are really just the same. To the sunrise and the sunset, the master and the servant have exactly the same fate. It's a sunrise and a sunset from a cradle to a casket there is no way to escape the sunrise and the sunset. Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play. But everything you do is leading to the point where you just won't know what to do. And at that moment you may laugh, but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you. So it's true; the trick is complete. Become everything you said you never would be. You're a fool! You're a fool! Sunrise, sunset, sunrises, sunsets Sunrise and the sunsets. Sunrise, sunset Where are you Arienette? Where are you Arienette?
0
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
Sunrise, Sunset
Sunrise, sunset Sunrise, sunset Swiftly go the days. Sunrise, sunset You wake up then you undress. It always is the same. The sunrise and the sunsets You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain the sunrise and the sunsets. You realized then you forgot what you've been trying to retain. But everybody knows that it is all about the things that get stuck inside of your head, like the song your roommate sings or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed. She raises her hands in the air, asked you, when was the last time you looked in the mirror? 'Cause you've changed. Yeah, you've changed. Sunrises, sunsets You're hopeful then you regret. The circle never breaks. With a sunrise or a sunset there's a change of heart or address. Is there nothing that remains for a sunrise or a sunset? You're manic and depressed. Will you ever feel okay? For a sunrise or a sunset your lover is an actress. Did you really think she'd stay for a sunrise or a sunset? You're either coming or you just left, but you're always on the way towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet. They are really just the same. To the sunrise and the sunset, the master and the servant have exactly the same fate. It's a sunrise and a sunset from a cradle to a casket there is no way to escape the sunrise and the sunset. Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play. But everything you do is leading to the point where you just won't know what to do. And at that moment you may laugh, but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you. So it's true; the trick is complete. Become everything you said you never would be. You're a fool! You're a fool! Sunrise, sunset, sunrises, sunsets Sunrise and the sunsets. Sunrise, sunset Where are you Arienette? Where are you Arienette?
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51
Middle School Full of friends and love Hate and lust Being thrown under the bus Doing the right thing Is harder than it sounds Harder than it looks, too Always wanting to be found Rescued from the abyss That feeds off of your sadness That doesn’t know when to stop That will make you collapse Needing support Wherever you can find it Taking it from others If it means peace Life upside-down Never know how To turn your life over That frown upside-down So when you find peace Wherever you find it You never want to leave it But sometimes you must Coming back to resurface After all the sadness You see the world differently Then you saw it before. People can help But sometimes they don’t Sometimes they think their helping But really they’re not Don’t fall for the lies The deceptions they place To try and make you come with them And do the wrong things Because in the end, you’ll find You never wanted to be with them You just want to be you And not just some hologram Embrace who you are And what you’ve gone through No matter what it is Walk up with open arms Take what you have And don’t worry about what you don’t Because in the end, you’ll find There’s nothing wrong with you You’ve been through high times And low ones, too But no matter what had happened You found your way through Through the darkness, you emerged Opening your eyes To a new world of color Without wearing a disguise Learning who you are Can change how you act Change how you feel Even change how you react Because now you know How to see in color No longer in the darkness World seeming brighter Every day can be a good one If you know how to live it All you have to do Is change how you see it
0
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Middle School
Middle School Full of friends and love Hate and lust Being thrown under the bus Doing the right thing Is harder than it sounds Harder than it looks, too Always wanting to be found Rescued from the abyss That feeds off of your sadness That doesn’t know when to stop That will make you collapse Needing support Wherever you can find it Taking it from others If it means peace Life upside-down Never know how To turn your life over That frown upside-down So when you find peace Wherever you find it You never want to leave it But sometimes you must Coming back to resurface After all the sadness You see the world differently Then you saw it before. People can help But sometimes they don’t Sometimes they think their helping But really they’re not Don’t fall for the lies The deceptions they place To try and make you come with them And do the wrong things Because in the end, you’ll find You never wanted to be with them You just want to be you And not just some hologram Embrace who you are And what you’ve gone through No matter what it is Walk up with open arms Take what you have And don’t worry about what you don’t Because in the end, you’ll find There’s nothing wrong with you You’ve been through high times And low ones, too But no matter what had happened You found your way through Through the darkness, you emerged Opening your eyes To a new world of color Without wearing a disguise Learning who you are Can change how you act Change how you feel Even change how you react Because now you know How to see in color No longer in the darkness World seeming brighter Every day can be a good one If you know how to live it All you have to do Is change how you see it
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68
Separate from Love. God. Food. Money. Cleanliness. Water. Sleep. The alcoholic from drink. The *** addict from -- Air. Time. Privacy. Freedom. These things tear down, cause Stress. Illness. Fear. Sadness. Anger. But the return is hopeful, As is the possibility of a won battle, And, sometimes, it takes a few tries.
0
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
Separation Anxiety
can you ***** my finger and measure the dopamine in my veins? collect my teardrops and tell me if i'm going to be okay? can you light up the darkness with magical pills? decide if i'm too sad to go to school? can you tell me if i'm just being melodramatic? measure my blood pressure, maybe that will work. write me a prescription for 5 Happy Days in a row, and 3 hugs from Someone I Love. doctor, doctor i'm not feeling well today doctor, doctor i don't know if i should stay sadness isn't a sickness, but it's infected my mind. can you write me some antibiotics to get them out in time? sadness isn't sickness, but i think i might've caught something from doing a little too much of Having No Friends. don't you know how much i've been Laying In Bed? sadness isn't sickness, but i think i'm coming down doctor, doctor i've got a severe case of the I Don't Want To Lives can you write me a prescription? make it go away? doctor, doctor you've let me down this time doctor, doctor i'm not in my prime can you tell that i'm not healthy? 'cause i don't think you can oh, sadness isn't sickness, but it's fatal, if all goes according to plan
0
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
doctor, doctor
There's this mask I wear The glue is so tight Hiding me, hiding all All you don't see, unless you get really near That I'm not alright My eyes are dark and deep enough for you to stand in My wrists are ****** so are my thighs My heart is shaky And I've got non stop anxiety But from far you see this mask You hear my loud laugh And see me hold my tummy in pain from giggling at my own joke You swear I have recovered When actually my late night tears help me keep the mask on I may not look injured Nor hollow Or in pain Just with this smile on my face Of this mask that I wear I hurt unheard and unseen, Impatient for good days. If my heart was transparent A lot wouldn't be the same Anyways, I'm already used to building these walls around my heart. It's protected, I guess. From the outside world yet within me the storm never calms. Tears wet these pillows All night through sometimes wishing that morning must never come Holding the grudge against myself While smiling to all standing right in front of me. Asking is this how life suppose to be. Limping with anger yet holding the last thought of laughter One hell of life we living. You see... This mask doesn't show things in 3D That's why I love rainy days Coz my tears are never recognized Sadness engulf my soul while hoping that one day I will be able to remove the glue on this mask I wear.
0
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
mask