Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by EmilyUndefined, May 12, 2012.

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  1. Umm hi. :)
    I'm new to SF and I thought I would share some of my poetry here.
    It's not very good, but I thought I'd post anyway.
    Probably all triggering for the most part.

    -I wrote this about the flaws of society, inspired by the death of Jamey Rodemeyer.
    (RIP Jamey. ♥)

    Symphonic tragedies
    At the hands of society.
    Show them they’re beautiful
    Ask them to stay.
    Too many lives
    And so many times.
    Where have our children gone?
    We tell them they’re worthless.
    They’ve all gone away.
    How could you save them?
    Everything is silent.
    Another sleepless night.
    Everything is silent.
    Even through their screams.
    Everything is silent.
    Despite the agony.
    Everything is silent.
    They’re too far gone.
    The youth of this nation
    Bound together by insecurity,
    yet so distant and alone.
    Born into corruption
    The innocence is dead.
    “You are beautiful.”
    No one believes
    Those meaningless words.
    Who could even think
    When everyone goes out of their way to prove otherwise.
    Everyone is blind.
    The mirrors are shattered
    And the scars of those words
    Forever a reminder.
    “You can never be beautiful,
    if you’re so alive."

    -Written in reference to my ex-girlfriend, a long time ago before I was hospitalized.

    She hurts me.
    She hurts me,
    over and over.
    Every day.
    She hurts me with her smile;
    her laugh,
    her perfect imperfections that
    make her beautiful.
    She has flaws; she makes mistakes.
    Everyone does.
    I’m in love with her,
    every part of her.
    Those that give me
    a reason to live
    and those that want to push me
    over the edge.
    She hurts me, though
    I’m still holding on.

    -I actually wrote this in science class, lol. :p

    the ground.
    Silence and
    With us
    they are dying.
    will cover
    ugly scars.
    Fading them
    along with
    humanity as
    porcelain masks
    convey the shyest of sympathy.
    Only for a moment,
    and then surely,
    but obliviously,
    their lives
    go on.

    -Titled: And the Mindless.
    Medication spills across the sink
    and skitters down the drain.
    Steam kisses her mirror;
    gently, gently.
    She could not see.
    Where had she gone?
    She could not see.
    gently, gently.
    Drifting away.
    The bottle hits the floor.
    “I don’t need this.”
    Drifting away.
    Blinded by water;
    water and steam.
    She could not see.
    mindlessly; mindlessly.
    Drifting away.
    One last drag,
    cigarette to her wrist.
    gently, gently.
    Ashes fall into the sea.
    ashes to ashes.
    Drifting away.
    The touch of the water
    splashes her skin.
    But she does not feel.
    mindlessly, mindlessly.
    She does not see.
    Submerged in the silence,
    she does not hear.
    Face down in the water.
    gently, mindlessly.
    Everything is numb.
    gently, mindlessly.
    Behind the locked bathroom door.
    gently, mindlessly.
    drifting away.

    -This kind of sounds like a bash on religion, but it isn't meant to be that way.

    If God were here,
    I would pray
    for the fucked up kids,
    who lost their way.
    The broken hearts
    and every damned soul
    traveling unlit paths
    along winding roads.

    -Likewise with the following.

    In chains; she walks.
    The corridors of her mind,
    as her body sits motionless,
    as if God’s keeping time.
    She impales herself relentlessly;
    but does not wish to die.
    They say He sees everything,
    but nothing through her eyes.
    Hypothermia of the souls;
    frozen and broken,
    take refuge to the roads.
    Running from their fears
    our children are dying,
    the world is in tears.
    Society is
    at the hand of your merciless god.
    Can he not hear the orphans cry?
    Even as believers pray to empty skies?
    There is not enough faith to keep the world turning.
    Revolution of the people.
    Your churches are burning.
    See for yourself,
    the flames that are rising,
    as thickened black smoke
    floods the horizon.
    She watches from her window
    as the world falls apart.
    But the earth leaving orbit
    leaves no void in her heart.
    The terror and sobbing
    beyond these white walls
    is the perfect save haven
    from these dark prison halls.
    She doesn’t want to die,
    but shes too sick to live.
    Sells her soul into evil.
    With a blade to her wrist,
    with innocent blood on the floor,
    Can the two coexist?

    -Titled: Colorless Dreams.
    Maybe she won’t wake up tomorrow.
    Drifting away with her colorless dreams.
    Shattered she stands facing the mirror
    The depth of despair where her weaknesses breathe.
    She would disappear.
    As anyone would.
    If only they had known
    that maybe she could.
    Split herself open,
    as one becomes two.
    The girl on the floor
    and the girl no one knew.

    -Titled: Hot for Teacher.
    She’s eyes azure and emerald green
    Salacious curves are built to please
    That fuck me dress just above her knees
    The hottest teacher you’ve ever seen.

    Baby let me run my fingers through your hair
    I long to hear her gasping
    silent breaths of air.

    I want to see her sparkling eyes
    lidded, and watch the subtle goosebumps rise
    Move my lips along her tender throat
    To the music of her dainty sighs.

    That scar that adorns the base of her neck
    pianist hands; they make me a wreck.

    Eyelashes like mascara wings.
    Your sweet, cheery voice that’s now saying naughty things.

    Melt my lips in to your skin,
    if middle school walls
    weren’t paper thin.

    Run my nails along your spine,
    your delicate heart in rhythm with mine.

    I would hold your body tightly against the the layers of brick,
    with nothing more than hands on your sweet, lascivious hips.

    Your shallow breathing in my ear and pretty nails in my side,
    We may touch gently, but our bones still ignite.

    The tensing of your abdomen,
    and pulsing of your veins.
    Would be a beautiful distraction from the lesson of the day.

    -I want to title this, but I'm not sure as to what would be appropriate.

    Let me get you high
    Hear you slur your words
    Run my tongue over sensitive lips.
    Gentle fingers tease your anxious hips.
    I can see you’ve tried.
    I can see you’re tired.
    I’ll hold your hand. (you know I care)
    and kiss your scars.
    I’ll look into your eyes;
    Relieve your stress.

    Feel your lungs beneath me:
    Your perfect body defying gravity.
    Magnetic force of passion
    Slams it into mine.
    Your shallow, sweet breath
    Grazes my ear as I kiss your neck
    And our entities collide.
    I know you’re stressed.
    I see you’re tired.
    (you know I care)
    I’ll kiss each of your fingertips
    Have you gently riding on rocking hips
    No regret, no consequence.
    My thumbs trace your waistline
    beneath that purple dress.
    (softly; you know I care.)

    Your back glides across the floor
    as if it is composed
    of sticky silken sheets.
    Travel down your body
    with flames dancing upon my hands.
    Velvet thighs on my shoulders
    I’ll take you away.
    Steal you from worry.
    deliver you from evil.
    Work all the hesitation in your body away.
    (you’ll see that I care.)

    -Simple poem.

    Wake me up
    if you need anything
    but if you don’t
    that’s okay too
    wake me up
    if you need anything
    if you need me
    like I need you.

    -Written in reference to my previous eating disorders and poor body image.

    Cast your demons out.
    (binge. purge.)
    Left with nothing.
    Cleanse your body
    from the evils.
    Take your disgraceful insides
    and pour them out.
    I’d rather be skinny and scarred
    than otherwise and oblivious.
    (binge. purge. cut. cry.)
    Left with nothing.

    -My mom took the journals I'd filled up while I was in the hospital away in order to unsuccessfully "prevent relapse" or something to that affect.

    I go back
    on solely the memories
    that stuck
    and continue
    to cling in
    the back of my mind
    and linger softly
    around my neck
    small and seemingly harmless
    but incredibly sharp
    like razor blades hidden
    in drawers and
    knives in secret cabinets
    unable to be seen
    but easy to be heard
    screaming silence
    inaudible to everyone around.
    “she’s fine.”
    They thought.
    “she lied.”
    They saw.
    For my journals
    were taken

    -My fear of public speaking.

    Collapsing lungs
    inside the glass box
    everyone’s watching.
    She’s not breathing.
    The walls are closing in.
    Masks of fascination
    ever so patiently.
    Her heart jumps.
    They all stare
    as she begins to speak
    but no words escape.
    They pulse through her veins
    but she cannot make a sound.
    Her vision is blurred.
    Feels as though she is falling
    even when she’s standing still
    in this glass box.
    Everyone is waiting.
    She’s not breathing.
    Everyone is waiting.
    She’s not breathing.

    -Written about feeling unclean and unwanted because of your past.

    I’m still sick,
    but you would never know,
    until it breaks free.
    The sickness.
    I’ll drive you insane.
    I’m so sick.
    The darkness
    Slowly and quietly.
    Drifting through;
    swallowing the room.
    Smoking in the shower
    on a sweet Sunday morning.
    hoping someday,
    It will all go away.
    The sickness rushes
    through my veins.
    I hope someday
    It will take me away.

    -Titled: Jumpers and Suspenders.

    Some people want to fly.
    The jumpers.
    Easily, smoothly.
    Straight down.
    they change their minds.
    Too late now.
    flailing; screaming.
    The whole way down.
    Birds can’t land on water, sweetheart.
    Maybe you should have thought this through.
    Too late now.
    Enjoy the ride.
    When all else fails, we learn to fly.
    Then there are the others.
    They need guidance.
    They’re afraid to fall.
    They lean toward help.
    The hands of a rope
    guides them down.
    Suspending in the air.
    Shallow in the void of space below,
    Flying nonetheless.
    Drifting into eternity
    with a noose around their neck.

    -Suicide statistics.

    Just another statistic
    Another shadow on the wall.
    Another 40 seconds.
    Until someone new will fall.
    Just another number.
    Another wasted life.
    Another kid just playing God.
    Lost and left behind.

    -Titled: This too, shall pass.

    This too, shall pass.
    Close your eyes.
    Your worries will be in remission.
    Release your memories
    Into my soul.
    I will feed from your pain until
    your little heart lies content.
    This too, shall pass.
    Tranquilize your fears
    Leave them sleeping in my mind.
    As long as you’re okay,
    I’m happy with your misery.
    As long as you don’t have to face it.
    I’ll hold it in my heart
    as long as you’re okay.
    I’d do anything
    to keep you from turning into me.
    (Forgive me father for I have sinned.)
    I’ll take your pain.
    And this too,
    shall pass.

    -Titled: Mistress.

    Ready, set, relapse.
    Mistress may I please get out.
    Mistress may I please get help.
    Mistress please don’t hold me down.
    I can’t do this anymore.

    -Domestic Violence.

    She’s eminently fragile
    So may I please suggest
    That you release her little arm
    Before you break her fucking wrist.
    She’s not your toy
    Just let her go
    Before you scar her sensitive heart
    And crush her tiny bones.
    She covers her bruises with a cosmetic brush
    So no one sees your anger rush
    From your mind into her skin
    Scratched and scarred and bruised again.

    -Written for an old friend.

    Hope instilled in the sickening silence
    The comfort you bring me that dances through flames
    Though we’re only strangers and shadows
    Even on better days
    Laced through insecurity,
    love is mangled an frayed.
    And hidden in secrets,
    The demons enslaved.
    Our pasts and the present
    Collide into one.
    Perfection and practice
    Stay with me, baby. Don’t run.
    Thin feathers of darkness falling at our feet,
    The sirens and scars, they sing us to sleep.
    Through distance we are stronger,
    and together we are weak.
    I love you; I promise.

    -Written for the same friend; after he left me.

    Let her down easy;
    she’s afraid of falling.
    Show her the light when
    the darkness is calling.
    Please don’t leave.
    She can’t see.
    She can’t breathe.
    Not again.
    Sleeping silently.
    Not again.
    Shadows of you
    flow from my wrist.
    In retrospect to July,
    this must be your wish.
    Please don’t leave.
    Not again.
    I trusted you.
    I love you.
    Never again.

    -Written in the hospital:

    Endorphins and adrenaline
    Flood her racing mind
    As her sickened little soul
    cries out her last goodbye.

    -For my ex-girlfriend; my first love.

    The butterflies that never die
    her hazel eyes that never cry.
    The angel wings she hides so well
    Push me to insanity; I rest in my cell.
    For eternity my soul shall wait
    Within the blade resides my fate
    My darkest dreams, her brightest days.
    her halo outshines my sinful ways.
    My blackened heart and scarred up arms
    my shattered soul; her sweetheart charm.
    Hung upon the cross of raped faith
    I’d lost my baby, I’d lost my way.
    Her tresses of red and those of blonde
    Overpowering my reason with her beauty so strong.
    She walks the corridors of my mind at all hours.
    Like a calm misty haze or a storm of grey flowers,
    Bittersweet, it is. The effect she has upon me.
    And carved is her name into my heart filled with longing.
    Her unthinkable beauty burned deep in my brain,
    her hugs that once enveloped me like September rain.
    She promised forever; broke me into pieces.
    She knew not what she’d done for my cuts were releases.
    No confrontation or discussion, my pain remained speechless.
    I hid beneath my mask of regrets and secrets.
    As her heart flutters softly for anyone else,
    I sit in this room like a doll on a shelf.
    Sweet love or sweet misery, the two I desire.
    Though one shall outweigh the other in the end,
    the razor to my wrist is my closest best friend.
    My sick mind converts pain into one final wish.
    When I sigh my last breath, seal my coffin with her kiss.

    -Written 2/2/12.

    For what it was worth,
    the pain and I were very much so
    acquainted with one another.
    It’s not as though I had no feelings but
    more so that I neglected to revel them.
    The bubbling emotions stayed hidden
    beneath the surface until I released them
    silently into the depths of my skin.
    I took the blade and let go of the ungodly cries
    of hatred,
    and fear.
    I poured those tokens of negativity
    into the shallow cuts on my wrists
    and washed them away
    with the droplets of
    crimson that resided there.
    I watched them heal,
    day after day.
    Fading slowly
    into thin, smooth scars.
    Not only were the regular rites
    of slitting and repenting
    done for the gratification of expression, but
    also out of insecurity.
    I had done wrong.
    For what it was worth,
    I deserve this.

    -Titled: Listen. (The rhyme scheme is really off, as it is in several of my poems but oh well.)
    Listen to the girl with those sad hazel eyes.
    The girl who’s always hurting, but never seems to cry.
    Listen to the boy who wears long sleeves to hide.
    The boy who silently relives the night his mother died.
    Listen to the kids that know pain far too well.
    The kids who return home from school into their own personal Hell.
    Listen to the teens who don’t fit in or get along.
    The ones who only strive to make friends and feel at home.
    Listen to the souls who always cry themselves to sleep.
    The ones who lost their way and faith and have nothing left to reap.
    Listen to the parents who had to bury a child.
    The ones who thought they’d done everything to make his life worth while.
    Listen to the lovers who lost half of their heart.
    The ones who gave their everything but put still put themselves at fault.
    Listen to the people who lives their lives in need.
    The ones who feel eminently hopeless with every deed.
    Listen to the ones who beg for willing ears.
    The ones who’s lives could be saved
    If someone stayed to hear.

    -Titled: Time.
    The days go by like clockwork.
    Save my soul from my sickened
    The beautiful girl with her bright hazel
    Haunting my dreams with her beautiful
    Pouring myself into poetry
    Suicide, homicide, hatred.
    Waiting for a love that I cannot
    Waiting for eternity.

    -Written 2/27/12

    I’m sorry that I’m just fourteen.
    A stupid girl with fucked up dreams.
    Like a butterfly with broken wings,
    No word is more relevant
    than useless.


    Morphing reflection.
    Distorted image.
    Flawed vision.
    Impaired perception.
    Why are we so insecure?

    -I was accused (wrongfully) of influencing a friend to cut herself and I needed to vent my emotions.

    I’m not faking it.
    You’ve seen what I’ve been through.
    You’re just begging for attention.
    You’ll get it if it kills you.
    On the surface are people like you
    crying for unneeded help.
    Beneath the floors of society
    others aren’t doing so fucking well.
    I told you it would be okay.
    You don’t need to do this.
    I told you there would be another day.
    Don’t even pretend you’d try to end it.

    -The feeling of not being able to move on.

    The world spins.
    around her.
    She can’t keep up.
    Hearing damage.
    The wind whips
    into her ears.
    She feels the screams
    shatter her ribs.
    She can’t hear it.
    Spinning, spinning.
    falling into oblivious.
    Sensed numbed.
    And everything fades to black.
    “Should have moved on,
    should have moved on.”

    -No real explanation needed I don't think.
    Lucid dreaming
    throughout the day.
    Blood loss and exhilaration;
    left in a daze.
    Nothing feels real.
    Except the burning of my legs.
    Nothing capable of clearing
    the clouds in my head.

    -Lack of Control.

    Losing control.
    The razor takes over.
    What can you do?
    The rain falls down the window.
    Slashes across her forearm
    concealed beneath her sleeves.
    Thunder shakes her body.
    The blade whips across her skin.
    And with the storm,
    She’s crying.
    But with the storm,
    She carries on.

    -I tried.

    t will only hurt for a second.
    It will only burn for as long as you let it.
    Don’t you even try to end this yourself.
    Put the razor down
    go get some help.
    Unstable bitch.
    You can’t live like this.
    Kill yourself.
    Get it over with.
    I can’t watch you destroy yourself.
    I’ll walk away now.
    At least I tried to help.
    Think of your family
    not just yourself.
    Stop living this lie
    If you want it this way,
    go ahead and die.
    Selfish bitch.
    You deserve it.
    At least I tried,
    I tried.
    But you didn’t.

    -Written on a day I was actually pretty content, and then seemingly everyone around me was breaking down.

    Everyone wants to die tonight.
    I don’t see why, I don’t see why.
    Nobody’s state of mind is right
    Nobody understands.
    Help them God.
    Everything’s gone wrong.
    But dying won’t make it right.
    Will it?
    I’m a little worried.
    Why would you want to hurt yourself?
    Nobody understands.
    Everyone wants to die tonight.
    Even you, even I.
    I understand.
    We all understand.

    -Written quite a while ago.

    The embers of our last months and days
    Reminders of our wasted flames.
    Turn to ash but still remain.
    Perfect picture in a broken frame.
    As she rises in the world,
    I waste away.
    My conscious mind could not care less
    but the keeper of my dreams holds her memories at best.
    I wonder if it’s really over.
    I wonder if she's really gone.

    -I stopped taking my medicine.

    She slides her medication under the pillow.
    She sees they take her soul away.
    The capsules draining everything.
    Condemned into eternal indifference.
    Numbing her creativity.
    “I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.”

    A long post, but I just felt like sharing. Let me know what you think? ♥

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