"timebombs" poems - Hello Poetry

Clattering clashes of confused cacophony Secretly sweep myself from sanity No one knows of this nonsense That's viciously veering away my vanity. But bursting bottles bubble over Then transform from thick to translucent Succumb to swallowing my insecurities Like little lies luring your loneliness Making moments your own meaningless movie These hallucinations hear hoarse laughter That tricks time into ticking towards timebombs.

0

Oct 2, 2013

Oct 2, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC

kimberly-clemens

Prose of Probable Promise

Clattering clashes of confused cacophony Secretly sweep myself from sanity No one knows of this nonsense That's viciously veering away my vanity. But bursting bottles bubble over Then transform from thick to translucent Succumb to swallowing my insecurities Like little lies luring your loneliness Making moments your own meaningless movie These hallucinations hear hoarse laughter That tricks time into ticking towards timebombs.

11

We’re all as bad as we can be We’re all as rebellious as hell We’re all bullies We all sneak out to smoke and do drugs Even though we only 13 Even though just last year we were still in the same middle school Even though we are still surrounded by the same people All of us end up having bigger demons then last year Most of us are living ticking timebombs on the verge of suicide Most of us are terrified of the future and will do anything to get away from that We all yearn to go back to the time when we could just play hangman Most can’t play hangman because we know hangman is the perfect example of if you say the wrong thing you can end someone’s life We’re not all bad on purpose some of us are just b r o k e n

0

Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC

TheSadGhost

Teenagers

We’re all as bad as we can be We’re all as rebellious as hell We’re all bullies We all sneak out to smoke and do drugs Even though we only 13 Even though just last year we were still in the same middle school Even though we are still surrounded by the same people All of us end up having bigger demons then last year Most of us are living ticking timebombs on the verge of suicide Most of us are terrified of the future and will do anything to get away from that We all yearn to go back to the time when we could just play hangman Most can’t play hangman because we know hangman is the perfect example of if you say the wrong thing you can end someone’s life We’re not all bad on purpose some of us are just b r o k e n

14

These thoughts twisting inside of me Curling up just below the surface Taking my head and clutching it close to my heart Trying to listen to the hum of feelings I can't stand up anymore Wind drinking my skin It's so cold Nothing like it used to be Is this the world you wanted me to see Your kind moving quietly around me Looking back at me I remember whispering in your ear Telling secrets you'd never know Your fingers were afflicted with a nervous itch Pointing like nails to pin my insides to the ground All these people like golden souls crawling this way and that Spotting every dark corner below the surface There you are, flying over me Playing with things unseen I'm lingering in the dark Pulling clouds low to forget this ground Darling, lay your head down for me All around me, jackhammers and timebombs I feel insane, dropping below the still waters Phosphorescent white blotting this soul out into the open Twisting thoughts inside of me Beneath the skin I'll run away Under the waves I'll crawl to some distant shore I'll try to hold on, I'm losing the fight I'll try to hold on, I'm slipping away I'll come back again If I can.

0

Jun 14, 2010

Jun 14, 2010 at 4:19 PM UTC

trevor-lee-boyd

I am him, but he is not me

These thoughts twisting inside of me Curling up just below the surface Taking my head and clutching it close to my heart Trying to listen to the hum of feelings I can't stand up anymore Wind drinking my skin It's so cold Nothing like it used to be Is this the world you wanted me to see Your kind moving quietly around me Looking back at me I remember whispering in your ear Telling secrets you'd never know Your fingers were afflicted with a nervous itch Pointing like nails to pin my insides to the ground All these people like golden souls crawling this way and that Spotting every dark corner below the surface There you are, flying over me Playing with things unseen I'm lingering in the dark Pulling clouds low to forget this ground Darling, lay your head down for me All around me, jackhammers and timebombs I feel insane, dropping below the still waters Phosphorescent white blotting this soul out into the open Twisting thoughts inside of me Beneath the skin I'll run away Under the waves I'll crawl to some distant shore I'll try to hold on, I'm losing the fight I'll try to hold on, I'm slipping away I'll come back again If I can.

32

Stunted, the same, by highs and lows alike. A jubilant parade inside some nights. Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters! No good time left unexploded. Rusted blood iron and red wine filling my eyes. Tired of feeling "weird." Tired of knowing I'm being. I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't scare me. I wish I could love anything in ways that couldn't hurt-- --inward or out-- I wish... _I think..._ If I sit on _this_ bench...for a _long_ time, and keep _perfectly_ still...but make subtle eye contact with some of the crows... they'll accept me as one of them? Teach me to fly Or, at least, hide in plain sight. A new vocabulary for my quiet when it starts to get mean. Entangled, alike, by lows and highs, the same. Convenient jailbreak for a Name-- --_Say it._ Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula. No good night goes unpunished. Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine-- crying outside Tired of being fragile Tired of knowing I know. And how 'bout the crows? I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.

0

Mar 25, 2025

Mar 25, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC

kyle-kulseth

Splinter Pattern

Stunted, the same, by highs and lows alike. A jubilant parade inside some nights. Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters! No good time left unexploded. Rusted blood iron and red wine filling my eyes. Tired of feeling "weird." Tired of knowing I'm being. I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't scare me. I wish I could love anything in ways that couldn't hurt-- --inward or out-- I wish... _I think..._ If I sit on _this_ bench...for a _long_ time, and keep _perfectly_ still...but make subtle eye contact with some of the crows... they'll accept me as one of them? Teach me to fly Or, at least, hide in plain sight. A new vocabulary for my quiet when it starts to get mean. Entangled, alike, by lows and highs, the same. Convenient jailbreak for a Name-- --_Say it._ Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula. No good night goes unpunished. Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine-- crying outside Tired of being fragile Tired of knowing I know. And how 'bout the crows? I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.

45

there's no hurry time will hold your hand, anxious child there's nowhere to run so why feel like running your corpse will take over you soon enough don't let that be now the more life you exhale the closer you are to losing your inhale but i promise you you're the basic windmill You’re literally a caterpillar you’re every table in the world you’re me if i was a girl you’re a piano buried beneath the lighthouse Calm the **** down We're all timebombs; we're all ticking we're all counting moments down and thinking imagining when we could be speaking

0

Apr 12, 2017

Apr 12, 2017 at 7:37 PM UTC

PhoenixBekkedal

Calm down

there's no hurry time will hold your hand, anxious child there's nowhere to run so why feel like running your corpse will take over you soon enough don't let that be now the more life you exhale the closer you are to losing your inhale but i promise you you're the basic windmill You’re literally a caterpillar you’re every table in the world you’re me if i was a girl you’re a piano buried beneath the lighthouse Calm the **** down We're all timebombs; we're all ticking we're all counting moments down and thinking imagining when we could be speaking

11

I sat with my hands On this awkward holly leaf Forcing its yellow-green spikes to pierce flesh Passing my fingers Over the points so pretend real Peeling off each limb one by one to make it ordinary Reading the tombstones All lined up in morgue fashion Imagining those souls who were one day transformed Into stone-carved letters Names and dates and flowers Slowly lessening visits from moved-on people Who try not to think Of their own temporary selves As ticking timebombs testing every limit until one day I walk diagonal Accross the road to the redness That catches my eye filling my head with metaphors Those church wine petals Scent as sweet as the Eucharist Having been inside for so long I am drunk on the sight I am born again Brushing against plants for contact Suddenly noticing the life energy contained within them

0

Jun 20, 2016

Jun 20, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC

unnamedci

Tombstones

I sat with my hands On this awkward holly leaf Forcing its yellow-green spikes to pierce flesh Passing my fingers Over the points so pretend real Peeling off each limb one by one to make it ordinary Reading the tombstones All lined up in morgue fashion Imagining those souls who were one day transformed Into stone-carved letters Names and dates and flowers Slowly lessening visits from moved-on people Who try not to think Of their own temporary selves As ticking timebombs testing every limit until one day I walk diagonal Accross the road to the redness That catches my eye filling my head with metaphors Those church wine petals Scent as sweet as the Eucharist Having been inside for so long I am drunk on the sight I am born again Brushing against plants for contact Suddenly noticing the life energy contained within them

24