"sunshiney" poems - Hello Poetry

I never asked to be ugly dunno why it made me so hard to like My own peers they killed me while our adult supervision got high. I had no friends when I went away to the place mom told me I had to go stay, "It's a happy place," I remember she said, "Called Camp Crystal Lake." Sounded nice enough at the time. Crystal Lake. A family fave. Nowadays, when you hear the name You don't think of a sunshiney place full of laughter and happy children You think of misfortune you think of my face and if you think of visiting, You better not stay For more than a day, Or the children will play on your grave. This is my home and I'd rather be alone, With the dead animals and my mother's bones.

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Oct 30, 2014

Oct 30, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC

xan-abyss

Crystal Lake

I never asked to be ugly dunno why it made me so hard to like My own peers they killed me while our adult supervision got high. I had no friends when I went away to the place mom told me I had to go stay, "It's a happy place," I remember she said, "Called Camp Crystal Lake." Sounded nice enough at the time. Crystal Lake. A family fave. Nowadays, when you hear the name You don't think of a sunshiney place full of laughter and happy children You think of misfortune you think of my face and if you think of visiting, You better not stay For more than a day, Or the children will play on your grave. This is my home and I'd rather be alone, With the dead animals and my mother's bones.

27

i know that in this big, bad world the only person who can save us from us is ourselves. but wouldn't it be nice to have a knight in shining armor rescuing you from drinking that entire bottle of liquid fire wouldn't it be nice to have a crusader coming to you preventing you from swallowing that towering pile of pills wouldn't it be nice to have a warm sunshiney, kiss telling you everything will be o k a y before snorting that last line in the end the destruction of ourselves only comes from ourselves. but my, oh my wouldn't it be nice to have a hero other than yourself.

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Nov 2, 2016

Nov 2, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC

jared-bogolea

hero

i know that in this big, bad world the only person who can save us from us is ourselves. but wouldn't it be nice to have a knight in shining armor rescuing you from drinking that entire bottle of liquid fire wouldn't it be nice to have a crusader coming to you preventing you from swallowing that towering pile of pills wouldn't it be nice to have a warm sunshiney, kiss telling you everything will be o k a y before snorting that last line in the end the destruction of ourselves only comes from ourselves. but my, oh my wouldn't it be nice to have a hero other than yourself.

25

Golf cart rides and Watermelon rinds and A driveway kiss and Sunshiney bliss and Catching grapes in your mouth A1A, heading south Bare feet Eyes meet Doing cartwheels on the beach Singing to the radio, Solo cups Tangled up Building fires by the sea Forever, him and me

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC

brain-puke

Nostalgia

Golf cart rides and Watermelon rinds and A driveway kiss and Sunshiney bliss and Catching grapes in your mouth A1A, heading south Bare feet Eyes meet Doing cartwheels on the beach Singing to the radio, Solo cups Tangled up Building fires by the sea Forever, him and me

14

Being sunshiney just isn't my thing if it smiles too much I want it to leave I live in the darkness, I like to hear it sing but other than that I have a knife up my sleeve I want to cut down all that's not dark ***** you sun, give me the moon I want to bask under the stars in a lonely park I wont tell you anything soon.. Just leave me alone, i'm coping just fine don't talk about my heart, I know what to do I mean, after all, it is MINE I don't need any input from people like you

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Feb 24, 2013

Feb 24, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC

Quiltel

Emo

Being sunshiney just isn't my thing if it smiles too much I want it to leave I live in the darkness, I like to hear it sing but other than that I have a knife up my sleeve I want to cut down all that's not dark ***** you sun, give me the moon I want to bask under the stars in a lonely park I wont tell you anything soon.. Just leave me alone, i'm coping just fine don't talk about my heart, I know what to do I mean, after all, it is MINE I don't need any input from people like you

12

four of hearts and he whispers "the best is yet to come" Well, snap out of it. think of sunshiney days on the Oval, think of nights spent in your bed think of blue skies and smoke by the bridge kissing on the couch, heartbreak and PBR

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Apr 25, 2015

Apr 25, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC

sarah-johnson9f

Minor

four of hearts and he whispers "the best is yet to come" Well, snap out of it. think of sunshiney days on the Oval, think of nights spent in your bed think of blue skies and smoke by the bridge kissing on the couch, heartbreak and PBR

9

I am not roses and champagne Or birds on a sunshiney morning I am not high heels and pretty dresses and bright colors I am not the girl with a positive comeback to every little thing in life I am not the person who you can look at in the early morning hours and find sleeping like an angel in your arms as you caress my cheek in the early sunlight I am strong and independent I am determined I may not be champagne and rose But I am steel and whiskey I am as strong as steel and can take some of the strongest heat I am whiskey because you'll remember my exact tones and hints even after I am long gone I am the woman with an optimistic yet realistic comeback for things that happen in your life I am vans and leggings because, **** I have places to go a hell of a lot faster than heels can take me I am most likely stealing the covers at night and if you wake me up before 8am you will get the worst version of myself I am muted earth tones with hints of sunflower yellows I am steel I am not roses and champagne or a bird chirping on a Sunday morning.

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Dec 5, 2018

Dec 5, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC

taylorann1

Roses

I am not roses and champagne Or birds on a sunshiney morning I am not high heels and pretty dresses and bright colors I am not the girl with a positive comeback to every little thing in life I am not the person who you can look at in the early morning hours and find sleeping like an angel in your arms as you caress my cheek in the early sunlight I am strong and independent I am determined I may not be champagne and rose But I am steel and whiskey I am as strong as steel and can take some of the strongest heat I am whiskey because you'll remember my exact tones and hints even after I am long gone I am the woman with an optimistic yet realistic comeback for things that happen in your life I am vans and leggings because, **** I have places to go a hell of a lot faster than heels can take me I am most likely stealing the covers at night and if you wake me up before 8am you will get the worst version of myself I am muted earth tones with hints of sunflower yellows I am steel I am not roses and champagne or a bird chirping on a Sunday morning.

17

The way the harsh light bounces off your skin makes me think your face is electric. Soft pores and sunshine fleshtones. Almost like your face is the sun, and you are the son of the sun. The Son of the Sun. The Son of Man. On the wall, the clock ticks loudly. Ticking is just another word for stabbing. Looking across the room, I can see the angry, inflamed air. It has pus and blood. It's gaping. I draw a shallow breath and taste saltiness. You draw a breath and taste nougat. When you do, I can't help but look at your teeth. Your pearlywhites. Vanilla gelato. Sweet and good to eat. Were we ever friends? Could we be? A smile sneaks its way in at the corner of your mouth, and your foot begins to tap. I can't tell whether the ticking is making the noise anymore, or your foot. Twelve years from now, you walk down the street with your son on your shoulders and your wife at your side. While you and your boy eat Baby Ruths, she snaps a picture. In it, the nougaty center is clearly visible. It looks like your skin. Sunshiney and soft and not salty at all.

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Oct 22, 2014

Oct 22, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC

doubleu-el-ar

Baby Ruth

The way the harsh light bounces off your skin makes me think your face is electric. Soft pores and sunshine fleshtones. Almost like your face is the sun, and you are the son of the sun. The Son of the Sun. The Son of Man. On the wall, the clock ticks loudly. Ticking is just another word for stabbing. Looking across the room, I can see the angry, inflamed air. It has pus and blood. It's gaping. I draw a shallow breath and taste saltiness. You draw a breath and taste nougat. When you do, I can't help but look at your teeth. Your pearlywhites. Vanilla gelato. Sweet and good to eat. Were we ever friends? Could we be? A smile sneaks its way in at the corner of your mouth, and your foot begins to tap. I can't tell whether the ticking is making the noise anymore, or your foot. Twelve years from now, you walk down the street with your son on your shoulders and your wife at your side. While you and your boy eat Baby Ruths, she snaps a picture. In it, the nougaty center is clearly visible. It looks like your skin. Sunshiney and soft and not salty at all.

2