- Reads 37
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- Parts 5
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Thu, Jul 20, 2017
I wanna scream these words
so loud I wanna wake up the dead
can't even bear the beautiful sounds of birds
because I want to be left alone, to lay in my bed
you don't want to be near me
I'm bad, an absolute magnitude
you'll just end up being hurt and flee
Like I never meant anything, just a brood
But it's okay
Isn't that what I always say?
A flower growing up in dark gray
I'll just stay here, every single day
a poetry collection. everything is written by me.
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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 relapsingComplete
One Thousand Tears
I've tried to release this pain in so many different ways; But writing about you seems to be one of my faves. I don't understand how I find closure When I know it only lasts until the poem is over. Somehow it feels like some sort of imaginary relief to my reality. As if, the pain I feel only exists until the words are free. I know how crazy it may seem Because the heartbreak will always be there; And I will never un-feel what you've done to me.Complete
Poems To Him
I once loved this boy, the feelings were intoxicating. It took over. I was being tortured by this unrequited love I felt for almost two years. This is my journey of figuring out how to live with it. "Summary": Hurt me, beat me, with the violence of words, and I will explode But maybe it hurts for a reason I want to hurt him I am me because of him Maybe I need the pain to live The only thing I know is that I'm dying Now I have to live with the consequences of the things he did(n't) do He'll hurt me no matter what he does Maybe hell and heaven are the same thing, but I choose to die his way We would be perfectly flawed and unperfectly flawless together, if only he could love me once But darling, I have a fear of falling apart This is a cry for help I'm crashing Fight for me, fight against me, fight against him But isn't it fear that keeps me alive also? I don't hurt anymore I am in so much pain I am a disaster waiting to happen I'm not afraid to die A lot of love to give, and no love gotten I love the things that kill me, and kill the things that love me It hurts to love him, but you can love someone without loving yourself, in that destructive kind of wayComplete
Broken
Have you ever wondered what goes on inside of the mind of a truly broken soul? The mind of a person with severe mental disorders. The one who smiles on the outside but is really dying within. The one that always appears happy. The person that you'd never guess was suffering every single day. Have you ever questioned what could break a person so badly? Have you ever wanted to get inside the mind of that person? This poetry is mine. This is me, opening my damaged mind to be discovered. Inside you'll find the raw emotions of a truly broken soul.Complete
Poetry of a broken heart
[COMPLETE] Poems of a girl. Poems of a sad girl. Poems of a sad girl who needs to find the will to live a little longer. Even if that implies sharing her thoughts with the world. Even if the world won't listen, she'll keep shouting for help. (Part 2 of "Poetry in an empty room") WARNING: If you are easily triggered by: -SUICIDE -SUICIDAL THOUGHTS -SELF HARM Then I suggest not reading for your own well-being. Started on: 8/4/19 Completed on: 3/20/20Complete
Thoughts of a Loner.
Poetry written by yet another individual just existing throughout as any other being like any of you, experiencing life and suffocating thoughts.
Thoughts of a Juvenile
Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.Complete
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.Complete
To Be Broken
What does it mean to be broken? (I wrote this poem myself) ______________________________ Why be sad? When no one knows how bad You feel your Pain makes you sore. Why be mad? When no one can tell How hard you fell How it hurts MORE than a tad. Why be happy? Be like all those sappy People pretending to be What they want you to see. Why be frightened? Senses heightened Screaming, As sick people are beaming. Why be tired? When no one knows How your wired How you grow. Why be honest? When all known is a broken promise When no one believes you Even if what you say is true. Why hurt? When no one feels your pain When no one's ever alert When you never feel sane. Why pretend? When you know in the end No one will be there Because no one cares. Why care? When no one cares enough for you To know what your going through They think your heart is unfair. Why try? When no one sees that you do They just pry Thinking they know more than you. Why speak? When no one will ever hear They'll say you're a freak They don't see a single tear. Why do anything at all? It's not like anyone will see If you fall If you scream. ____________________________________ "Just admit it Winter. After the whole accident....your broken." "No...No that's where your wrong. I'm not broken. Because to be broken, you had to have been whole in the first place."Complete
Can I Say Goodbye?
I'm always searching for something worth staying for but I can't seem to find that until then please don't mind me because I'm just a traveler passing through. When I'm not satisfied or happy I'll leave and find a new path, so just let me say goodbye... Can I say goodbye? I wrote till my hands bruised and heart bled. I wrote and wrote in hopes that some day, somebody will understand my words and all the things I wish I could say... Each poem is a story. My story. Some are fictional but most of them are true. I know you're curious. From painful heart breaks to high school stories. A person dealing with mental illnesses, fears and abuse. Won't you like to know about the drama?Complete
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 relapsing
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