2 am
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- Mga Parte 31
i sat on my desk until 2 am turning words into art and the blood from my mouth turned into ink.
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In The End No One is Okay
Hello, person whom must be reading this, my name is Jay, I write a lot of poems. So this will be a place I'll write them down for whom ever wants ideas, feels lonely, or wants to read. Whatever it may be, keep in mind there are trigger warnings, deep subjects, and fair amounts of fear. Enjoy and read at your own risk. March 17: #7 in Poetry March 22: #2 in Sadpoems March 19: #3 in lovepoem June 9: #1 in freshmeatKumpleto
POEMS
Hi guys, Here I am going to post the poems which I wrote. They are usually the mixture of Depression and sorrow. But I also write happy poems. Remember all this is just the thoughts and feelings in my head.
4. Memories and Feelings That Still Haunt Me
I've cried too hard for too long as I debated death. Over and over, all I wanted was a quick overdose, a quick way to escape the pain. Until the guilt set it and made me realise, suicide feels too selfish. Instead I turned my sadness into art and my pain into strength. Desperately wanting to carve up my skin, I bled on a page. My screams are silent, hidden behind closed doors, And computer screens. All these horrible emotions kept secret in notebooks. I'm too afraid to speak about it, so I write it down That's how my poetry is made. ~The birth of poetry -Me ____ First place in 2021 Irenic Awards poetry catergory Highest rankings: #16 original work #2 relapsingKumpleto
My Poems Of Life
Poems. My Poems. My Thoughts. My Feelings. My weak points. My Strong Points. My Life...Kumpleto
Medicine
Cutting open my heart to pour out how I feel. It comes down in floods of blood as words scatter on the floor in a jumbled mess or a pathetic attempt to explain my feelings. A book filled with all of my poetry. Enjoy the somewhat dark and somewhat light hearted rhyming poems that I have written.Kumpleto
Imagine ✔
My poetry. | © planetaryinfluence |Kumpleto
A daily journal full of poems of love, of joy and grief Pen enslaves the hand and paints the vast land of the canvas we call Speech
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