"themselfs" poems
The earth is the devils playground
Fear He loves to spread all around
On friday the 13th He turned it lose on France
He let his minions do their dance
There is no way of stoping him
He does whatever he wants on a whim
He minions number in the millions
Never knowing which ones they are, they look like civilians
The devil entices them to blow themselfs up
He whispers lies, "you'll be drinking from that heavenly cup"
The devil knows there will be more
Trillions of them wanting to settle the score
All we can do is pray to a callous God, who long ago quit listening to our cries
Us never knowing why
So we bury our dead
Try to comfort ourselves with something inspirational said
As we watch the earth turning red
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
The earth is the devils playground
Fear He loves to spread all around
On friday the 13th He turned it lose on France
He let his minions do their dance
There is no way of stoping him
He does whatever he wants on a whim
He minions number in the millions
Never knowing which ones they are, they look like civilians
The devil entices them to blow themselfs up
He whispers lies, "you'll be drinking from that heavenly cup"
The devil knows there will be more
Trillions of them wanting to settle the score
All we can do is pray to a callous God, who long ago quit listening to our cries
Us never knowing why
So we bury our dead
Try to comfort ourselves with something inspirational said
As we watch the earth turning red
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
In tides.
Change is fierce monster often left in shades of a lamb.
No pressense more cruel than that known as love.
Can we lie only to make this illusion so grand not appear traggic in design?
We question are truths beliving are thoughts instead of asking the one beside .
May we share this space only to distance areselves a little more at a time.
Picking apart the reason as in any situation we just always seem to lose track
of what it was that brought us here to begin with.
Anger can only mask my fears so long.
If you never understand then you'lll probaly stand with many.
***** the numbers it's a losing game to speak of to begin with.
Cold as rain in a approaching storm we can ignore the truth
if only to embrace are lies for one last time.
When did I ever become the shell?
A stranger in the wings to my own half thought logic .
Time makes a fool of us all.
As for me I sit without thought for to fight what never will be is a thought of another
The wolves howl at night only to hear themselfs die.
Tommorow you sound of hope in a hopeless void.
People togather in doorways hide from the rain and sometimes find there
placement a blessing.
Some find emptyness a solice I could never explian.
No man could ever be described so simply in one line.
Myself I find a stranger often ive seldom cared to understand.
Im far from the image yet close to the tale.
Maybe storms suit me well a gray sky to a ever distant wind.
Sands bury the traces yet a thought leaves it's mark.
No matter my past ive found eyes still find that dust ridden cover
**** my flaws for the subject is never understood.
For if Heaven were a endless highway id probaly be headed south.
I
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
*The light is racing from our room,
seeping through the cracks under the door.
The darkness grows,
casting us into shadow.*
but all things including light die in the end
utterances in the small places of my dark mind
lend themselfs to such times
i would not suffer to pass
the hour without bringing forth all the angers
and mettlesome ways that confound you
*the smokes rakes against my mind,
hiding me behind my eyes.
The truth came calling
along with the clock's toll,
but who among us could answer such an ominous cry?
When the hours between midnight
and 4 am are so unforgiving.*
i am filled with tears
until i can bear no more
your words kiss my mind
and i cannot return this tenderness
for it would turn to love
i am waiting these hours
in the desolate towers of cold
for the rescue of dawn
*but it gives little comfort
were that i could reach out to you
but i dare not
i dare not*
Edit et al: Collaboration Poem written by alyssainwonderland (http://hellopoetry.com/-alyssainwonderland/) and I (Mark John Junor); alyssainwonderland contributions are in italics
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
BUT IF EVERY SCAR TELLS A STORY I COULD WRITE YOU A ******* BOOK. GOD KNOWS YOU WOULDNT OPEN IT TO SEE WHATS IN SIDE. YOUD PRAY THE PAGES WOULD RIP THEMSELFS OUT BECAUSE ITS EASIER THAN ASKING IF IM OKAY. AM I OKAY?
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
havent written for a while
didnt have a reason
i was hurt, but nothing that hasn't been said before.
she hurt me,
i went back for more
and more
and more
recently ive learned to stand on my own,
this time for real.
ive met someone,
someone real.
someone i can really connnect with.
someone that will let me love them
someone who can love themselfs instead of just ******* me over.
yeah, i still care about you on some level
but not nearly as much as i use to.
so im happy
rebuilding
youre gonna be alone
you just have to ask yourself
"what now?"
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
How come all the websites say that people cut themselfs because they are angry or its the only thing they can control in life? Because some people do it because they need to be punished. They need to feel the blade because they know they are dirt and their mistakes are to big to forgive.
May 19, 2012
May 19, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
as forsaken as the hundred mile forced march
in the blistering sun
wrapped in the liniment of mourning
eyes like haunted shadows
watch the approaching dawn with
keen regrets
they gather themselfs prisons within prison
and shuffle forward into the sweating air
the sound of their sandle clad feet gathers
untill the sound repeats in on its self
and the echo sounds like the world itself
being ground down
the measured politics of this
woman's labours trouble me
she knows the key and combination to free
but profits from their caged destitution
she thinks it ain't so funny now is it
patterns etched in the face of
circumstance are ones of destitute sorrow
romance you with promise
but deliver nothing but offense
defying the odds
freedom is calculated
while desperation can only be measured
in miles or blood
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
So I live like a child.
Does it matter? No order, late, happy.
Should I get caught up in a relationship or work only for money. Na ah Im better off dealing with myself first. I dont see why people get to hate themselfs or maybe its the crayons speaking.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
it really feels bad,
when someone doesn't give a ****
you thought you care about them,
and they care about you back...
things can get ugly,
things are sometimes scary,
people don't wanna be like themselfs,
they act as they're somebody else..
i am not too sad now,
but still kinda sad somehow,
didn't expect it from you,
didn't knew we weren't true..
can i keep waiting for you?
will i keep waiting for you?
try to bring you back to the past,
when everything was like before..
but you're not yourself,
you're somebody else..
do i do anything for you now?
after you pushed me away now..
try to be like yourself,
knowing you cant be the same..
you're done with yourself,
just like i too am done with you..
now you're nothing but a shadow,
just a cheap fake shadow..
you are searching for an start,
without thinking how its gonna end..
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 6:08 AM UTC
I get scared by my facility
Of changing so quickly.
My thoughts and my feelings
Easily renew themselfs,
And when you're in constant changing
Please people it's hard...
So I stoped trying to please anyone.
Who wants to be part of my life
Has to accept the new leaves that grow
And the old ones that fall,
But who wants to be part of me
Has to help to picking them up.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
I don't know if I can handle more of this. Every night I repeat a silent wish that when I wake up it'll all be normal. It won't feel like there's a rock weighing down my chest. It'll be easy to smile. And easy to laugh. I wish that when I wake up everything will be wiped off the slate.
But no. That's not the way things work. The bridges we burn don't remake themselfs. The things we say don't become forgotten. We can't just fall asleep and wake up with our troubles behind us. That's why I can't make it. I need a new slate. Mine doesn't have any room left.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
We sit here
at the bottom of
the world
place
where the dead stars
are being lulled
i knew this place very well
i used to come here
once in a while
to stare thru tree crowns
while black and blue darkness
enwrapped my brain
with pleasant contentment
stars spoke to me of my depth
where should I lead
so
down the lonely road I go
just to
remind myself
how top and bottom
are close to themselfs
another lonely road I go
just to have a chance
to look deep in her eyes
so that she knows
I walk only for her.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
Love isn't something you can just make up
It forms
It also isn't a toy
You can't just stop your love for someone when it gets boring
People who treat love like a game haven't felt true love
Nither have they felt that feeling at all
They haven't felt the true meaning of love
That's why people always try to hurt themselfs
Telling themselfs that they will never find someone
They can't find anyone when they say these things
It blinds them from seeing many opportunities
There stuck in there own world they've created
They trapped themselfs inside cages and act like wild animals
When all they have to do is turn the handle to let them out
Feeling traped sends them into a endless pit of darkenss and sadness
Which leads them into hurting themselfs or ending there lives
When there is so much more to life then they think
Love is the most beautiful feeling
Better then the rest
It's more filling and never leaves you empty
Love can do crazy things
Things that seem impossible
Love is the motivation the world needs in order to function
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
im tired of people wasting my time.
im tired of getting my hopes up for no reseon.
im tired of this world fighing over greedy ****
im tiredof every one thinking there are better than ******* themselfs
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Its funny how kids try to make themselves look older
and adults try to make themselfs look young
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC