AnxietySometimes,Anxiety1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sick isn't something
You can see.
When I'm standing there -
Fists bracing -
For 'no reason at all',
I hope it makes you
Feel big and tall,
To tell me I'm being stupid.
When I can't talk to someone -
Because my throat is dry,
And I feel sick,
Like I can't
Catch my breath,
Like I'm going to cry
Like I'm hurtling
Towards death -
Don't tell me to
'Get over myself'.
When I'm crying -
And my knees
And I'm too scared
And every heart
Makes me jump -
How can you tell me
I need to 'grow up'?
When I can't get on a bus -
Because so many people,
So many eyes,
And my mind is force-feeding
Me so many lies -
Don't tell me I 'think I'm better
Than everyone else'.
I'm trying my hardest.
Really, I am.
Would you tell someone with a broken leg
To just get up and walk?
Would you tell someone with no tongue
To open their mouth and talk?
Would you tell a wingless angel
So tell me why -
When it is
Stop putting words in my mouthYou shove your fingersStop putting words in my mouth3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
down my throat,
and insert words
I never spoke,
in desperate hopes
to make me choke
my pearly gates
that feeds me
A ConfessionI am gay.A Confession3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a girl who likes girls.
You have no idea what that took,
How my hands shook
Over my laptop keys.
Don’t hate me.
Will I lose friends?
Well that depends,
On what kind of people
Not my fault.
Or is it?
I just don’t know
I’ve been with boys
And I’ve got with girls,
And it’s feminine fingers
That I prefer
My blonde curls.
I know, I know
This poem sucks
But this isn’t about
It’s about me
In the only way
I know how
What I am.
I am a lesbian.
I am biI am sick of people,I am bi1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
Telling me who to like.
I am sick of them trying to shove me into making a choice,
But at the same time taking away my voice.
They say I should like guys.
And that in my mother's eyes,
Liking anything different,
Would surely cause her demise.
Because she couldn't tolerate a daughter.
Who fell in love with another,
They say I should like girls.
They text me,
Call me things like
Yes I've kissed a girl before,
But it's something I like to keep locked up
As a secret behind closed doors.
I like guys,
I like girls.
I am sorry mother,
And I am sorry father.
But is it so bad,
That I am,
RockHacking away at a rock with another rock will shape the rockRock1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are hacking at by time, but the rock you are using might also break.
This can be frustrating and you may want to give up and go do something else,
but that is when you should get back on your feet, find another rock and continue hacking.
You might never feel that the rock you are shaping ends up perfect and you will always see flaws or
improvements to be made. Passion to do something isn't to finish it, it's to work on it.
A note for people who need a kind wordJust a note,A note for people who need a kind word1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
For anyone who has felt,
Like they have been broken.
Just like an old toy.
Thrown and tossed around like a rag doll.
To anyone who feels,
They re tearing at their seams.
And they re losing all control.
A note to the little girl,
And waited for her mother.
Or her father.
To come back home,
To keep her safe,
While she cried.
Or to at least of said goodbye.
And wishes they d come back and tell her,
A note to the lonely boy.
So quiet and reserved.
Who sits and takes their cruel words.
Thinking it s what he deserved.
To be thrown into lockers,
And thinking he can find something better,
With the company of a razor,
Rather than a human.
Because humans have caused him more hurt,
Than the blades that pierce his skin.
A note to the beautiful girls.
Who walk for miles,
Until they have blisters on their feet.
Because they will not accept the defeat,
Of having to see numbers,
That tell them they are not worthy.
They are not pretty.
And they should not be living.
If they c
I forgotI used to loveI forgot3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
I used to dream
I used to hope
But I forgot
I need something
To remind me of these beautiful things
For a shard of happiness
So I can love again
DeathMareWhen I die,DeathMare2 weeks ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
still the birds will sing and fly
When I die
few will mourn me, few will cry
When I die,
still will rain, still will dry
When I die;
tell me when, I know why.
When and if I ever die,
you'll see my star up to the sky
When and if I ever die,
gods will mourn me, they will cry
When and if I ever die,
the earth will shake, seas will dry
When and if I ever die...
I am immortal, I can't die!!!
Thoughts I'll never tell you3am.Thoughts I'll never tell you1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
it seems nighttime
has never looked this dark
(or maybe my emotions
are just blurring
squinty eyes turn
to my alarm clock:
in the roaring black sea
as the dream
s l o w l y
How can I miss someone
who wasn't even mine?
-loneliness-1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you find yourself
in a crowd of familiar faces,
the struggle for breath
I want to be aloneI am sorry,I want to be alone3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
Could you just leave me alone though?
I am not trying to be dramatic,
Not trying to put on a show.
I just want to be left alone.
Want to be inside my room,
In its darkness and gloom.
I want to accept my own doom.
Because I am my own disease,
I am sorry friend please,
Try and understand.
That I don't want to see anyone,
Because I can't feel the same,
I only feel tired.
Yet i can't fall asleep.
So I lay silently in bed and weep.
Because all I want is some peace.
So give that to me,
And just please leave.
Because I can't feel your warmth anymore,
So go away and close the door,
When you go.
That I want to suffer,
(Because I don't want you to see the demons that are inside of me.)
5'6 in heels5'8.5'6 in heels3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
36, 25, 38, it'd be nice.
long, healthy blonde hair,
typical caucasian female.
miles of legs,
collarbones of a model, yeah.
how pretty, yeah.
i went in for a checkup, momma made me
get my blood panel done.
it's always the same. blood pressure,
check my ears, hold me down for the
life that runs inside me because needles are
nasty. she made me step up to the
wall. my mother snorted.
she made me step onto the scale.
my mother 'tsked.'
i'm half asian and the other half white and i couldn't
give a damn about what i would have
to give up to be either or.
46, 32, 48, give me a break.
the man in the diner calls me sweetie and
asks how i got so pretty.
i can't afford to put my alarm clock on snooze.
i roll out of bed,
pull two-sizes-too-big jeans on and button them.
i tuck my uniform shirt in. i go to the bathroom.
the lights don't come on until
i have brushed my hair at least twice; once to get the
knots out a
You Will PayI can taste the fear upon you:You Will Pay1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
The cold sweat in your palms,
The eyes that dart at shadows,
And the lips that are forced into a tightened smile.
You wait beneath the blankets,
Shivering each night as the anxiety rises.
You gasp at the slightest sounds and quiver...
For you are afraid of the curse that comes.
In your mind you see what you have done to me.
You watched as you ripped my tongue
And stole the very voice from my soul!
But even if I am without a body,
Even if I can no longer hold a knife to your throat.
Fear alone is enough for me to silence you,
And I will NEVER allow you to be heard!
Stop Romanticizing Poets 2K14This is how I write my poems:Stop Romanticizing Poets 2K142 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
You’re blonde and you have blue eyes.
You’re the perfect subject for my next great hit,
a long rambling epic or a two page sonnet
which would start by comparing your hair
to rays of the sun and your eyes to the ocean
at daybreak. Even if you’re more of a dishwater blonde
than sun-colored, and your eyes are less ocean and
more sky, I swear I write this poem and think
vaguely of you.
But here is a secret: I’m not writing a poem about you.
I’m writing a poem about the idea of you.
And I don’t know if it will be a love poem or
a break-up poem or a “please don’t go home and
commit suicide” poem or one of those
heartbreakingly honest poems that feels like
you put your pencil on paper and bled.
I don’t write poems like that often.
No poet does, not really,
we write poems about you and your blue eyes
because we don’t like how bleeding feels,
and it is much safer for us to pretend to fall in l
TruthWe are often eager to surrender,Truth3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because the burden of choice is harsh.
We would rather blame others for our failings,
Instead of seeking an answer within our mistakes.
I am as guilty as anyone else when it comes to this.
How many days have I spent screaming at the darkness;
Spitting bitter words that blistered my own lips...
Even as my eyes grew clouded, shrouded by hate.
I railed against iron walls about a solitude I had created.
Anger became my mask for an open plea:
Because I simply wanted someone to acknowledge me...
To The HeroesJustice?To The Heroes1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm not sure you know what that means.
To you the very word of "justice" suggests that:
Those who do not comply are simply targets to be broken.
Those who do not agree with you, must always be denied.
Those who have the greatest freedom are chained and made to kneel.
And those who choose to fight are labeled 'incarnates of evil'.
Doesn't it all sound a little familiar?
I think it does...
So tell me, oh great hero,
Having fought monsters like me for so many years...
How does it feel to have finally become one?
Soy una mentira vieja - I'm an old lieTengo miedoSoy una mentira vieja - I'm an old lie2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
De no ser nunca tan feliz como ahora…
El amor tan sólo hace más llevadera la vida…
Pero el dolor la perfecciona…
Esa sensación cuando dos almas se llaman de vez en cuando para mostrarse incluso el más pequeño y estúpido descubrimiento, y todo parece mágico, importante, increíble.
Ese instante me parece tan hermoso que lo olvido todo, mis propósitos, mis miedos, mis escrúpulos.
Mi alma salió ayer por la noche y no ha vuelto. Su búsqueda parece infinita cada madrugada.
Qué complicación para los que pensamos y que al pensar haya cosas en las que creemos… y muchas más que jamás creeremos…
Como una mentira vieja, una galaxia de sentimientos turbios, un universo infinito de palabras repetitivas.
Una vida y nada que me lleve a morir… y es que a veces sólo siento que vivo mientras me muero.
Cierra los ojos conteniendo la respiración
Who are you?I am a girl who loves rainy days.Who are you?2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
And staying home.
Reading and writing alone.
I know it's quiet,
But that's the way I like it.
I am the kind of girl,
Who doesn't like being the center of attention.
Who prefers shadows.
And doors instead of windows.
So you can't see through,
I don't want you to see,
Who I really am.
I am the kind of girl,
Who may have grown up too fast.
And gets stuck in the past.
Wondering what I could've done.
To change things.
I am the kind of girl,
Who questions every inch of the world.
Who holds a thousand words.
But will only speak a few.
Because I am scared of you,
And what you'll think of me.
If I share an opinion.
And you think differently.
I am so many different things,
So many different girls.
Some scare the heck out of me.
And others are people I wish I could be.
Some are quiet,
Some are loud.
Some are insecure,
Some are proud.
I am not sure who I am.
I am just a mess.
Trying maybe a bit too hard to impress,
And conquer all of
Shades Of GrayHe drownsShades Of Gray2 weeks ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in visceral shades of gray,
in illustriously craved walls
with four defined ridges
allowing him only
a window to his soul...
a window without bars,
and yet it offers no escape
for it only allows
the gray to flood through.
He cannot swim,
the color allows him no such pleasantry
and instead he must sit,
in what little color he can find
as they slowly choke him
and as he dies
he screams repentant cries
and begs for salvation
with tears in his eyes
but his tears
only dye his skin as gray
as the filth which drowns him.
Fix it with holesFix it with holes2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Close your eyes, silence your cries,
grab that gun, take a breath then decide.
With nothing left said, write it in red,
on the wall, with the ink in your head.
PhantomShe's always seen duringPhantom1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
yet her beauty is
I, with shaking hands
wrapped her round me
like a scarf,
though she still gives
me midnight chills
and spasms of pain
Her friends pick daisies and
pierce the stems with their
link them together like
who are pulled out of their
beds by love
[pushed back down
by alcohol and the
need to please].
She bent o
Don't be That GirlDon't the be that selfish girl,Don't be That Girl3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
who builds her castle upon the bones of helpless boys,
and exalts herself as if she's the queen of the world.
Don't be that silly girl who lives to treat men like shit,
please don't be the girl whose nothing more than a vindictive bitch.
Don't be that girl who destroys a man with words,
because he's not strong, but flabby,
and because his tiny limbs are weaker than a little girls.
Don't be that girl who cries rape in the workplace,
or who wakes up next to a drunk man, and calls it rape.
Despite the fact that you were sober, and you defiled him while he wasn't fully awake.
Please don't be that girl who senselessly beats her husband or boyfriend,
and claims that when he hits you, he's not being a real man.
And when the police come to question, you put the blame on him.
And don't be that girl who claims that men cannot be abused or raped,
that if they ever claim they were, they wanted it, and they're fakes.
Don't be that girl who contributes to double stand
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.I'd Rather Be Dead2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.