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Ranted Poems

LECTURAS 119
Votos 3
Partes 28
Hora 22m

LECTURAS 119
Votos 3
Partes 28
Hora 22m

anger crushes depression friendship poem poetic poetry poetrycollection rant romance selfexpression sliceoflife teen undiscovered

Above all else, I've given up the razor blades and scissors and I picked up a pen. 
The words flow right out of my soul just like my blood used to.
I can stand proudly and say I did it. 
But that's just one of the challenges I've faced.
There are so many more... 
Some beg me to retreat and call up old scars but I refuse to give in and I grab my pen.
My pen and notebook are my new razorblades and scissors.
Please enjoy the poetry we make together.

~T.B.Todos los derechos reservados

anger crushes depression friendship poem poetic poetry poetrycollection rant romance selfexpression sliceoflife teen undiscovered

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My Poetry Escape de Someone_Invisible15

I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.

Prismatic Memories de theperfectphoenix

"i. they tell me they  cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them  that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. science. history. iv. but i want to speak. there are moments that fleet away when i do not store them. there are impulses that dab off when i do not write. v. when i am alive, i burst open with Slyvia Plath and Robert Frost. my hair fluffs with words. my veins cry with poetry. vi. welcome to my poetry book. i hope you drown in the words you sink in." ©theperfectphoenix Established -- [09-03-2016] Highest Rank : #2 in Poetry. Now A Wattpad Featured Book! [20-05-2016]

Addict In Black ✔ de whoscountinganyway

USER SERIES 1 Micah Rex: He's handsome, dangerous, reckless. An addict. When he walks into a room, people notice. People are scared of him, people don't look him in the eye. AJ Ferro: She's cute, nice respectful. A helper. When she walks in a room, people usually get flowers. People love her, people want to be her friend. Despite her cheery nature and soft words AJ has never had it easy when it came to addiction -or depression. Without his addiction, sadness and anger Micah doesn't know who he is -and he hates not knowing things. And, of all places, they meet at a rehab center. He looked at her and saw a peppy girl with no future. She looked at him and saw a troubled boy with a bad past. Micah wants to die, AJ wants him to live. It's only a matter of time before one of them breaks through or breaks the other. - I was 12 the first time I took a hit off a joint at a party, smoked a blunt by myself and bought a bong. I was 13 when I started drinking alcohol for fun. 14 the first time I took ecstasy at a college party I snuck into, the same age I lost my virginity. This was the first time I went to a mental institution because it's also the year I first tried to kill myself. 15 the first time I smoked meth, took a bump of cocaine, shot myself up with heroine. This was the first time I got sent to rehab, it didn't work and I came out worse. I was 16 when I tried to commit three times in the same year, the last time I got my heart to stop for 30 seconds. That year was also the first time I snorted Hydrocodone, getting me started in opiates, I experimented with Xanax and liked it. And I was a month from 17 when I got sober. - "Fuck you." I snap. "You already have." Micah bites out. "And I'm pretty fucking sure you liked it too, if your orgasms were anything to go by." - "I want-" Micah stopped, running his fingers through his hair. "Never mind what I want. What do you want?" His voice is quieter now, more gentle. "You."

Never Again (A Near Love Story(Death Note) (discontinued) de Jojoflicka

It was the drunk diver who started it. With one swerve killed both my parents and sent me and my brother into some foster place. Then it was that fever. They did nothing. They couldn't do anything, it was to late, my brother was gone. Now I wander the streets of Japan with a new look, new name, new title, and a new life. Not a pretty one, and definitely not a clean one, but it's all I got. With my only two friends at my side and my scythes in my hands I'm fine. Well I was, until I met a boy who changed everything. I hate him. He made me rethink my whole life. The things I do and why I do them. Because of him my whole life was turned upside down and now I don't know where to go or where I even am. Because of this boy, wounds reopen. Truths revile, and lies open up from my past to haunt my every step. I hate that boy, but...at the same time I don't. Can I really? I mean, can a person like me, who's done such wrong and has felt such pain really, I mean really...fall in love? ____________________________________________________________________________ Maria Case lives an awful life. Her only friends are two shinigamis. One who is her's and another who as been banished from her home. With shinigami eyes and a death note Maria is equipped to end her parents, but they die before she can do it. After losing her little brother to disease Maria decides she's done with life in America. She then hops the next flight to Tokyo Japan where she, Ciro, and Kenyo set up a new life. At first, everything is fine, but when the now Luna meets some weird detectives while working on an even weirder case she starts to rethink everything. Luna is forced to weigh experience and love, and moral and duty. Also, when her past and all her locks and chains begin to loosen how will Luna react, and more importantly, how will the world react?

Why You de possibilities5

Just poems. Some poems that I have written and others from the internet. If you would like to send me poems, I will dedicate that page to you. Or if you want to stay anonymous that's fine, too. Poems that I have wrote will have a '*' at the end. Please don't steal my own poems, because I worked hard on them. If you do choose to steal MY works, I am hurt. Use your own inspiration and creativity, please, it's not very hard (edit: it is very hard) ;) The poems that I have not written belong to there rightful owners. I will not be taking credit for them.

Thoughts of a Juvenile de jyfvjhtv

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.

Poems de BurningFireWithin

"I know that sometimes for people, I feel like too much; But let me kiss away the phantom pain that the scars remind you of, Let me kiss the burns on your hands, From when you touched the burning fire within my soul. Let me show you that yes, I am too much. I am too much, to be let go." Number 73 in the 2017 Literary Awards Completed 12/21/16 My 1st poetry book.

Emotional Amnesia de CAKerst

Sometimes when I say "I'm okay", I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight and say, "I know you're not". I have felt like this many times in my life; as a kid, teenager and as an adult. I have seen many things in my life and felt even more things that has been horribly depressing... But I got up. I stood up to walk on for another day. I dealt with my emotional amnesia the only way I knew I could and that was by writing it out into poetry. I wanted to forget my pain and forget what I was going through. I needed that cut of the blade or a pill to drink to take everything away. My poetry became both my pill and my blade... Now I share the most intimate part of myself with the world. The part of me I kept hidden in the closet. The part I never thought I would ever present to the world. Now is the time I have to stop having amnesia about my emotions. It is time to learn, to better myself and to stand up and remember the things that I shut out like a voluntary amnesia all these years. Those who are offended after reading this - f**k you! If you are sad with me and willing to cut your wrist - I know how you feel! If you just enjoy the words - I love you! #679 in Poetry on 17/03/2018 #779 in Poetry on 18/03/2018 #807 in Poetry on 19/03/2018 #474 in Poetry on 22/03/2018

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rock on! | inanimate insanity au de spaceluver344

Welcome to the life of a teenager - she's loud, rambunctious, and most likely failing her classes. Microphone has always wanted to play in a band, on a stage where billions could watch her perform, as she gives out autographs to the crowd - but that's all just a dream, one that'll probably make it on the "discarded" list. She doesn't enjoy school, because they don't teach what she wants to learn. Is there a point in her attending if the teachers are assholes, and the students constantly pick on her for being herself? Stupid, it is. Follow the life of various highschoolers - such as Fan and Lightbulb, who wish to make a successful blog together, but it all backfires when the gossip they've been spreading all crashes down on them, and now suddenly, everyone in the school is giving them dirty looks, and not even their friends want to talk to them. Maybe you want to get to know Knife, and his journey on tackling his problems outside of school, like getting into fights that weren't his, or being out later than he was meant to. Would you like to listen to Tissues story? You might want to understand how he feels being in the hospital for most of highschool year, being isolated from people who he wants to call friends, but can't. They don't know him - due to how absent he is, everyone has basically forgotten that he goes here, and gets brushed off like a speck of dust on the kitchen counter. You'd feel like a burden. Highschool is different for everyone. Come along, and listen to the perspectives of each character - take a look inside their minds, and see what they go through. You might just discover things that nobody else knows - or not. It's up to you to continue along. TW: VIOLENCE VULGAR LANGUAGE VOMIT SUICIDAL REFERENCES/MENTIONS GORE (occasional..) MENTIONS/REFERENCES OF SEXUAL ACTIVITIES REFERENCES/MENTIONS OF ALCOHOLIC USE highschool au, humanized - enjoy the fanfiction!

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My Poetry Escape cover

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My Poetry Escape

I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.