"sympathized" poems
men ask us
"what is a **** culture?"
when a woman's "no"
enters through the mind of a man and comes out as
"convince me"
**that is a **** culture**
when i cannot walk down the streets at night
without my keys between my fingers
**that is a **** culture**
when a victim is blamed
and a criminal is sympathized with because
"he had such a bright future"
**that is a **** culture**
when he was an adult and i was a child
and you dare to ask me what i was wearing
**that is a **** culture**
so if you're asking me
"what is a **** culture"
i will tell you
*it is our ******* culture*
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
The kids chemically induced
Reduced to ego threnody.
Amidst chaos he possessed influence.
Would disregard coincidence
And curse at the omnipotent.
Known as lonely pessimist
Could laugh at their own ignorance.
Pops was drunk.
Waved goodbye
to any kind of innocence.
Patronized
Sympathized
Irrelevant
Sunk below the sediment.
If humans could be celibate
This death would have ended it
Instead of only him.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 10:01 AM UTC
What did that look mean
when you glanced at me like that?
Yes, it was true,
another person's lips had grazed mine
when you left me the first time,
and now that you'd come back,
you seemed to know something I didn't.
I hadn't lied
when I told you that
your lips felt right against my own
and his smokey breath did not,
and then the secret you had held was revealed
only slightly, of course,
and I didn't even notice.
When I told you that
I had wished I was kissing you instead,
what I had first thought was a look of love
was actually your look of embarrassment and shame
and this was because, you too, were a man with a smokey breath,
leaving imprints of your lips on another's
long before we had parted ways.
So, it wasn't her who kissed you first;
you filthy little liar,
and you were starting to feel bad
about what you had done.
I was none the wiser,
and sympathized with you,
thinking you too had felt like me,
a big misunderstanding between two people
and that you'd come back to me
because you realized my lips were better than another's,
not that you liked the idea
of getting away with infidelity
and then rushing back into my arms.
I always missed these signs,
and it eats away at me now
when I think about how many
times I should have known.
Sep 5, 2021
Sep 5, 2021 at 6:14 PM UTC
A cuckoo melodiously sang
For many years long
In anticipation of her dear king
The most beautiful seasonal spring
The song was so sweet and great
That it was heard all over the world
The world sympathized with the cuckoo
To console her they stood in a queue
The bird waited for the king
She expected a wedding ring
But he went to another land
Which he thought more grand
The cuckoo was shocked
Her voice was choked
How long will she stop the song?
It was not at all her wrong
She sang a different song
The people would throng
They blessed she would live long!
Her divine song she would prolong
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 4:30 AM UTC
We live in a world
Where a size ten model
Is considered
“Plus Size”.
A world where women
Are prudes for wearing too much clothing
And ****** for not wearing
Enough.
A world where men
Are afraid to talk of their abusers
Because they’re afraid of being
Laughed at.
A world where the color
Of your skin makes you
A criminal, or a
Terrorist.
A world where your
Mental illness is only sympathized
If it’s a genetic
Disorder.
A world where women
Are criticized for wanting to
Be able to control their own
Bodies.
And a world where
Nobody cares about your suffering
Until you’re already
Dead.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
I saw you last night
I tightened my jaw and averted my eyes
But not before I sympathized with the plaid shirt hanging from your hunched shoulders
Those buttons that have been replaced with my teeth, chipping away against your sternum
leaving me with a skyline smile
I saw you last night
I smiled
You acted like you had seen the sun set on this city a thousand times
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,
And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days.
And do so, love, yet when they have devised
What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend,
Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
And their gross painting might be better used
Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.
1.3k
I have been aboard this vessel for
Fifty months
Nine days
Ten hours
And some value of minutes
Which is unknown to me.
I am
Lost
At
sea.
For a while it was bearable.
I have enough water,
Books,
And *** to sustain me.
But now all I wish is to see a pair of sails
On the horizon.
I have nothing left
But to wander the seas
And find whatever is there
For me.
Days pass.
I have sympathized with the stars;
For it seems to me that they are also
Sailors
Lost at sea;
Traveling towards their own fate
In directions
Unbeknownst to me.
At night I look up
When the sky is clear
And greet them,
I wish them strong winds.
I wonder if they have looked down on me.
I have confessed all my sins to them
For they are all I have.
The stars and I.
And we sail the same sea
But we will never meet
For we are infinitely far.
This is our curse.
At times I have fallen asleep on deck
Beneath them
In my hammock
As the sea
Rocks me
And sings songs,
Songs of ports and
Sails
On horizons.
It was on the morning following such a night
That I arose
And at long last
Saw
With my own eyes
A sail in the distance
And I maneuvered so fast as my small craft would allow
To be near to him
And as I came closer
I looked with my dusty spyglass
And my heart dropped from my chest
For he flew a black flag
Which bore upon it a skull.
I am writing this now as they approach
For I know I cannot evade them
Nor outgun them.
I am writing this because I now know my fate:
To die by their hands.
I am horrified,
But there is
One thing that will give me peace:
That I may
Finally
Sail
Among the stars.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Children,
all of me was all for you,
from towers I commended,
from basement I sympathized,
and god,
how I find all of me,
missing all your adoring stares.
I stood by,
I watched your birth in the garden
all those years ago,
and how your cries floated to heaven,
and how heaven answered with meadowlarks,
I handed you the apple,
I kissed your brow,
you would coo and grasp my coat,
I felt love, you felt vital.
I waged war,
with all the saints and arthouse critics.
We drank their blood by the moon
and our temperate speech
did flow from the fount,
under the table we were,
grew we did,
proper adolesence looking for
classical supremacy.
And Children,
I know the darkness was always creeping,
crippling every satellite, every sandy shoreline,
withering us in mirror,
you asked if the tide could claim us,
I patted your shoulder,
kissed your hand,
there is no enemy capable of victory,
oh, how the prophets betrayed me.
When your compliance was absolute,
when our neighbors pledged allegiance,
when I crushed the throats of Solomon, Gilgamesh, and
the sons of Zeus,
leagues made banners,
few made poison.
I gave you slaves,
girls, and sport.
I gave you a voice,
blankets, and victims.
The crowd and chants,
my pride and concubines,
the grass never faded,
nor the flowers wilted.
Children,
why did the publications turn against me?
I erased the existence of all you wanted dead,
I gave you dreams,
I gave plenty to sup,
plenty to remain drunk,
Children,
why did the prophets lie to me?
The priests carried daggers,
preyed upon me,
prayed for my passing-by,
the stares were there,
empty of adoration,
only hungry for my sacred blood.
I watched seas of my own,
pull down every cast,
my form laid to waste
on the streets I built under your feet.
My royal guards
chained my hands,
I could only stare at my blue veins,
my royal guards,
dragged my feet,
and in the senate they made me watch,
as my record was blotted out.
As the sun set,
the streets were lit
by effigy.
As the sun set,
I found myself in
the garden.
I stood straight,
back to a stake,
all eyes on me,
all shouts for me,
all the rage,
effigy, effigy,
they poured pitch at my feet,
they said prayers and incantations,
the flowers were in full bloom,
and the sound of buzzing flies buried
the cries.
I tried to be a friend to everyone.
Now history's vapor,
I tried to be a friend to everyone.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
You’ve read the words a million times
Seen it from novel to novel
You read about the daughters
And those they love
The ones who got sick
They hope
And hope and hope
then things go bad
And the only one who can still hope are the daughters
I’ve read their words from all across the decades
Sympathized with their pain
With their grief
With their internal struggles
But I never empathized with them
And in the past
I had this thought
In my head like a sticky note adhered to the fridge
Stuck there right next to the grocery list and the kindergarten artwork
It read
I would never be a daughter
Then the words leapt off the pages
Of the hundreds of novels
Inserted themselves into my narrative
Gluing themselves to my skin,
I tried to rip them off myself
But they peeled off my skin with their literary fingers
Taking some of my skin with them as they launched and
Ripped the sticky note off my cerebral refrigerator
I became a daughter
Sometimes I still can’t believe that word is a part of my life now
Cancer
And I understand what these daughters have felt
That it feels wrong that I should be the one feeling hurt
It is those I love that are sick and I am healthy with no physical ailment on me
No tumors or scars under my skin
But I feel as if they are in my heart
There is a tumor there and it won’t be removed
Because how could one ever remove a metaphorical tumor
Why does it hurt?
Is it because of the chemo
Cherishing the Hope that Everyone is Mostly Optimistic
Devoting myself to keeping everyone else in balance
Holding the weight of the world even though I could easily just let it go and crush
Every horrible thing in this life
But it became a part of me when that word entered my life
I can’t make it separate, make it leave, can’t stop being who I was born to be
Someone to hold the weight
Except one
One weight that ain’t no metaphorical tumor
The person I love is sick
The novels have inserted their words into my narrative
I just hope I can revise their endings
And move cancer into the index
The credits
anything
instead of having the last page read
the end
But, then I see the one I love stand strong
As everyone says this is the end
She won’t pretend that this it
Because it isn’t
She takes the pen into her own hand and erased what the world had written
And writes the end of part one
The end to this chapter in a long happy saga called
life
And she writes to the daughter
I'll see again
when you finish part one
In your wonderful fairy tale book
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 12:50 PM UTC
Some weeping in the silt of river grass,
A speckled black amphibian intoned
And lured blueberry girl with yearning groan,
She understood the plea as clear as glass.
Beneath the living mud she scooped him out,
The burping toad was cradled in her palm
And sank within a meditative calm
As she observed him rapt as one devout.
He humbly sat with wide-eyed child in blues
Who held him close and thought she knew his core
Unfolding from the water to the shore
Enclosing all the world in murky hues.
Her mother called her name from hollow home
But still she peered beneath his witch's eyes
And, twinned, the souls did glimpse each others' guise.
She sympathized, so buried him in loam
And ran, a spot of blue on open heath
To where her parents cooked a windswept feast;
Though she might grow, she'd not forget the beast
Who lived above the water, and beneath.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
my alternative inspiration
has long been deceased.
but the clarity of dreams so aspiring
arose from the grave
so succumbing to the doubts
formed by my misfortunate past.
there are letters written
to an empty room
where a callous man lay
in his unfurnished chair.
i breathed exhausted air
into his deserted lungs
and abided the escalation
of his deflated heart.
in time i reached a parallel conclusion
where these hollow endings between lust and love
had disconnected with hearts and heads.
i sympathized with his fevers
and disappointments in desires.
i have forgiven our distance
for solitude was only felt in our beds.
i have forgiven this silence
for it was a gift from my head.
i do not long for anyone that was-
just the feeling;
just because.
i see films of deceit
i hear time pounding through the window
and its consecutive ticking
reminds me these cursed scenes
can be repeated.
i rely on afflicted moments
as steps out the door.
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 12:46 PM UTC
I should have known when you sympathized with Daisy
What you were capable of.
You really do smash things up and retreat into your carelessness
Promises were made, that you couldn’t keep
Claiming to be strong, but gave up so easy
That’s not me
I love with every piece of my soul
I don’t give up when things seem to go astray
But I digress, because I did know something was wrong
When you sympathized with Daisy
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
I've never understood girls who obsessed about their weight
until i developed bulimia
this isn't poetry
I never sympathized with drug addicts, because my father wasn't around
now im waiting on a new hit of Adderall
this isn't poetry
I used to fall in love with everything I saw and I gave meaning to things without it
I told you I love you knowing that the way i feel now is the closest i can feel to love.
I read somewhere that a poet can make anything beautiful
but you aren't a poet
you can't make me beautiful.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
I fell again
From the mile high city for her
Then realized she was elsewhere
And started my journey west from US
Wen across the pacific
And found everyone making love
But not the person who i fell for
Continuing west
I reached Europe
And found beautiful
Landscapes and wondrous cuisine
Wonderful people
And stunningly beautiful natural history museums
Still not the beautiful lady
I then realized she was probably close by
Near where i started
So i made the daring flight
Across the Atlantic
While flying
I became even more lonely
And pondered
"What would i say to my lady once i meet her?"
I left those thoughts aside and
Looked around to see if i was close to home
And in that moment, my heart fell away and went into the enormous ocean..…
I continued now without hope
Reached my place
And looked around
Sure, i found her
The beautiful person
So stunningly wonderful
Artemis would be jealous.
I tried to tell her my emotions
My ever powerful love
Which took me around the world
But when she asked for my heart,
I couldn't contain myself
And told her of my tale
She listened and sympathized
But couldn't help
And then
I fell down
Only to be revived by her
Who told me, she still loved me
That revived my soul
And i found my heart
Quickly after
Only to realize
It was a dream…
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Zebras and old western movies and segregation and newspaper...
You'd like to think that I'd like to think that they are real,
But nothing is that simple.
Nothing is so fuzzy and dated and clarified.
Because he smiled as he smacked and she cried tears when she sympathized.
The world is not this or that and emotions are not happy or sad and people are not him or her.
It is not black and white or even the greyest gray.
Its saturated with colors that make me oh so dizzy and lost.
And I begged him for the answers he did not have,
And I flooded her with questions, never thinking of the consequences that came with partial responses.
I called out for peace, though the war is inside me.
Constant debates on what is wrong and what is right, but nothing
Nothing is black and white.
Times New Roman stares at me, glimmering brilliantly.
I am not two halves and they are not monsters and you are not angels.
The voices in my head are not so generous.
They would speak into crackling microphones
and tell me how unspoken language works.
They are with the times and so am I, but I am universal where nothing else is.
There are no opposites.
Nothing can help me but my refusal to accept everything as anything other than a spectrum of somethings.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
I have always sympathized with the wrong people,
feeling worse for a killer than I do his victims.
It explains why I’m still able to love you and not myself.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
My wishes are dreary and cold
Time, in rush, under the sun is sweating,
And summer sears stories can’t be told,
The heart by itself is obliged to live beating,
In cadence with love words of a song,
Which a pretty girl sang so long, so long.
I sighed, then, and sympathized with her pain,
Later, to recollect those words, I tried in vain.
Her eyes were intense black, sad and wet.
Where starless winter night wove his web,
A desire rose , then in my solitude, I wept.
At that moment I loved, yet couldn’t speak;
Now she is a misty shade at its lowest ebb,
My fondness remains, upon my chest creeps.
Salty rain drops, in the eye, trickle down the cheek.
While the heart, with nettling remorse, weeps.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
The laughs piercing through like jagged knives
Scraping though the ears, throat, heart…
They claw their way in-I cannot shut it out
A casual moment to the world no doubt
Shut up
Is this being done on purpose?
I know feeling this ****** isn’t worth it
Why do I care so much?
Are people just that interchangeable?
You avoid my eyes I avoid your company
Do you notice these things?
Do you edit your acts too?
I know I shouldn’t care what you do
You understood me
Eyes revealed secret confessions
Only you knew
And now our eyes shall never meet
Our bodies never touch
In fear it would be too much
We’ve replaced the roles
But not the insight
You saw my best
Sympathized about the rest
And noted everything else
Fluid and in sync
But now that has changed
You've left me in a mental mess
and I’ve tried to clean mine up
Allowing honesty to seep through
Now the spotlight shines on you
You’re next move?
Not what I expect
You should feel no regret
For me, it’s impossible to forget
You wear it daily on your face
It comes out in our shared space
Your name for me has changed
Mirroring a greater change
Will we ever mimic normalcy
What goes on in that head?
Silent to no end
Maybe this time apart
Can give you semi fresh start
That’s not what I want
But what I want is never an option
I don’t want to forget how it was
I don’t regret how it was
I’ll miss that more than I’ll admit
I like the match and how we fit
But you’ve outgrown me
No efforts to reconnect
Don’t know if it’s possible
I just hope you remember when it was good
So someone can smile at the past
Our fluid conversations are dead
Stupid issues many in your head
I’ve never done this before
No thanks, I’m done
Broken and sore
Recovery is my new chore
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I want to tell you a story.
A story of two lovers;
who loved each other so unconditionally that they died silently in their families’ misconception of them.
Lovers that loved each other so dearly but were stopped to even be bullets and arrows for their affection.
Completely misunderstood by what they named color,
black and fair became the reason of their fate.
But he loved her, that Romeo-Juliet type of love where one’s pain was the discomfort of the other,
and where happiness brew more love in their hearts.
It was aching;
and what she felt when they were separated was that the ocean that they used to go to;
the ocean that had all the whispers of their love;
that carried each piece of him and her;
that had sympathized with their destiny;
that ocean had become cold and pale and bitter for summer had left way back with him.
And they were never going to understand;
that they had lost their son in the conflict.
He was deported abroad but he left his soul miles away;
Poison is not only what the human beings consume,
Poison is also what human beings use to have their way.
And that slowly consumed the very meaning of his existence;
Making him no less than a dog that whimpers its tail to its main.
Ask about her?
She looked at the ocean waiting to be absorbed by her nothingness.
That was her imagination.
They knew no sympathy for her case.
Ever heard of a lion ever favoring a goat?
It was a lost case-pure blasphemy,
If that could probably be the best term to be used.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
She looked at the ultrasound image,
scared and speechless.
Her pessimistic husband inculcated her with words,
useless words.
Her ideas of the family she envisioned cracked like glass.
While internal tears drowned her, she began reminiscing the past.
As the doctor spoke, she heard nothing but
the hopes and dreams she created in her head.
Unsure and filled with anxiety,
she was filled with dread.
The one moment she always awaited,
left her feeling very deflated.
"W- what is that ?" She stuttered, pointing at the image.
The doctor cleared his throat.
"What is that ?!" She screamed, becoming agitated.
"Not even science can explain that." he said.
The being inside her was far from human,
with its two heads and black eyes
peering at her through the image.
"It's not human and I am so sorry." the doctor sympathized.
Her husband, enraged at the whole situation marched out of the room
and slammed the door.
All hell broke loose after she cut her stomach open
and released the creature into town.
Paranoia and pain tormented the town
for months till the creature was captured
by a once nameless entity.
This is the entity parents warned their children against
but this entity became an angel and a saviour.
Over time, this nameless entity was named fear
and sometimes, fear helps us overcome our
greatest nightmares.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
She sat cross-legged on a deserted highway
all dressed in silence
her eyes spoke of how she used her paper weapons
to defend her glass heart
And I told her
the stars are (g)listening
because I didn't have the heart to say
"I think you're beautiful when you cry"
Dust collected on her eyes
like memories of old Polaroids
but she looked like a paperback
with dog-eared corners and a bent cover
In the hushed hours of the night
she looked flushed
and I'm not sure why
but she breathed out,
a tiny, nervous breath.
She told me how she missed
the boy who laughed in the sky..
she wished to be here again
shooting fireworks; dancing with sparklers
she wished to hear his laugh from then
she wished to feel her smile again
Then, she told me how she felt so small
I sympathized with her
as only empty highways and broken hearts do
and she dropped lit sparklers
to find her way back to civilization
and like her, the sparklers died
I lost her that night
but I know she's somewhere
halfway between the gutter and the sky
staring from vacant eyes
I wonder if the half-rotten forest
could ever breathe
as quietly as she did when she cried.
©️ Dark Water Diaries
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC
I used to think that romantic heart break poems
were an overused cliche.
I never sympathized,
for I had never felt any spark.
I felt that people would get over it,
that it surely couldn't be that bad.
I was wrong.
It was the first time I'd felt a spark,
something that filled me up with a warm feeling.
Something that I could actually feel.
I felt victorious,
I felt like a champion.
Being around them just filled me up,
just enough to keep the spark going with me.
I didn't think that mixed signals were real,
that people just didn't see the real meaning.
That I admit I was wrong again.
They gave me mixed signals,
one day they'd adore me,
the other they'd just ignore me like trash on the sidewalk.
I wasn't sure what to feel.
So now I make my decision.
I give up.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC