Still the ❤ne
- Reads 162
- Votes 19
- Parts 7
Hello, hello, I know it's been a while
But, baby, I got something that I really wanna let you know, yeah
Something that I wanna let you know
You say, you say to everybody that you hate me
Couldn't blame you 'cause I know I left you all alone, yeah
I know that I left you all alone
Yeah, now I'm back at your door
You're looking at me unsure
I should've seen it before
You're all I think about, baby
I was so stupid for letting you go
But I-I-I know you're still the one
You might have moved on
But, girl, you should know
That I-I-I know you're still the one
I know it's saying too much
But I will never give up
I was so stupid for letting you go
But I-I-I know you're still the one
I-I-I know you're still the one
Hello, hello, I'm really hoping you'll forgive me
I keep talking, begging, tell me what I wanna hear, yeah
Girl, just tell me what I wanna hear
I tried, I'll try to start again and find somebody
But I remember all the times and all the words we said, yeah
I can't get it out of my head, yeah
Now I'm back at your door
You're looking at me unsure
I should've seen it before
You're all I think about, baby
I was so stupid for letting you go
But I-I-I know you're still the one
You might have moved on
But, girl, you should know
That I-I-I know you're still the one
I know it's saying too much
But I will never give up
I was so stupid for letting you go
But I-I-I know you're still the one
Hey you, you're still the one
Hey you, you're still the one
Hey you, you're still the one
Hey you-
You're still the one
I know it's saying too much (Yeah)
But I will never give up (C'mon)
I was so stupid for letting you go
But I-I-I know you're still the one
I-I-I know you're still the one
All Rights Reserved
#9
sylver
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
What you never asked
"I pretend I never loved you I will pretend it was never the easiest thing to do I will pretend that I'm over it Pretend I am over you But no one has a fucking clue And I'll throw my popcorn away. Hide my face. Wipe away my tears. I wasn't special enough And that is alright by me." ------------------------ At this point this collection of poems is almost like a diary. I always hated poetry. I like people who are direct and honest. And that's how I prefer literature. I believed myself to be bad at double meanings and metaphors and hated pretty words to cover up the ugly reality. Yet, I found myself being fascinated by it. I think it's the most vulnerable side of me. Wanting to communicate through a medium I think little of and yet understands me. It has no structure. It can be messy and yet beautiful. It's allowed to be unpolished. Wrong quotations. Or even lacking any. At this point in my life I feel like everything I thought was right to be wrong and so maybe something wrong could be right. You haven't even asked for this. And still you know it now. "Art is where what we survive survives" -Kaveh AkbarComplete
Submerged (Book 2 Of Breathe)
You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together, you'll be fine Tell me, what the hell do you know? What do you know? Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know? Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels, how it feels Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real No, it won't be real, won't know how it feels You tell me hold your head up, hold your head up and be strong 'Cause when you fall you gotta get up, you gotta get up and move on Tell me how the hell could you talk, how could you talk? 'Cause until you walk where I walk, this is no joke Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels, how it feels Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real (how could you know?) No it won't be real (how could you know?) Won't know how I feel Till your world burns and crashes Till you're at the end, the end of your rope Till you're standing in my shoes I don't wanna hear a thing from you, from you, from you 'Cause you don't know Till it happens to you, you don't know how I feel, how I feel How I feel Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real (how could you know?) No, it won't be real (how could you know?) Won't know how it feels Till it happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you (how could you know?) Till it happens to you You won't know how I feelComplete
Breathe
Help, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And the worst part is there's no one else to blame Be my friend, hold me Wrap me up, unfold me I am small, and needy Warm me up and breathe me Ouch, I have lost myself again Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found Yeah, I think that I might break Lost myself again and I feel unsafeComplete
Something Mending -- VOL 1
Of Breaking hearts, young love, betrayal and pain. Of Mending hearts, familiar pain, unexpected hurt and aftermath. Of Healing hearts, underated heartache, pain and acceptance. Of Love, Love that is as deep sea. Pain, that knows no bounds. Strength, that exist within time, but lasts forever. Of Sadness, sadness that always returns, Of Trauma, trauma that runs in deep, and the art of dying, every time. Of Scribbles and rambles, unsaid words and sealed pain. Of Life, Love, Pain, Sadness, Trauma. Of the art of rising like a phoenix, every time. Of Anxiety and Paranoia. Of Anything bad, Of Everything good. This is a story of a girl, it's a continuous one. A story of a sad girl, very lonely, but beautiful, intelligent and strong. She's a self sabotaging narcissistic girl, but also a talented, skilled and brave girl. She is riddled with anxiety and depression, but somehow finds ways to get up each morning, thinking of beautiful things. She has loved and lost, hurt and being hurt. She has not lost herself, but she has not find herself either. This is the life of a girl, laid before you in poems and thoughts. Here is a piece of me, and in here, undoubtedly, you will find pieces of yourself too. I am a mess, but aren't we all? | formerly SOMETHING BROKEN |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
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
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
Walking Into Black
Don't fear death. It does nothing for you. Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not. Don't fear pain. Pain is how you learn. Pain is the side-effect of life. If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you truly live life fully? I've felt pain. I've accepted death. I've lived, I've learned, I've drowned a few times. If all I have to show for it is small bundles of letters and words...so be it. That's more than I could have ever hoped for. Everything that means anything to me are just words. You can put anything into words. Anything and everything. You can put death into words. You can put pain into words. You can put fear into words. And I have. And you can read them, if you want. You can learn from them; learn to stop fearing, learn to stop living in the future, behind your mask. But only if you care enough to listen. I speak loud and clear, yet nobody can hear me. I am not hidden, yet nobody can find me. If they even try.Complete
"I pretend I never loved you I will pretend it was never the easiest thing to do I will pretend that I'm over it Pretend I am over you But no one has a fucking clue And I'll throw my popcorn away. Hide my face. Wipe away my tears. I wasn't special enough And that is alright by me." ------------------------ At this point this collection of poems is almost like a diary. I always hated poetry. I like people who are direct and honest. And that's how I prefer literature. I believed myself to be bad at double meanings and metaphors and hated pretty words to cover up the ugly reality. Yet, I found myself being fascinated by it. I think it's the most vulnerable side of me. Wanting to communicate through a medium I think little of and yet understands me. It has no structure. It can be messy and yet beautiful. It's allowed to be unpolished. Wrong quotations. Or even lacking any. At this point in my life I feel like everything I thought was right to be wrong and so maybe something wrong could be right. You haven't even asked for this. And still you know it now. "Art is where what we survive survives" -Kaveh Akbar
More detailsContent Guidelines