Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.
One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.
She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?
No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.
Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.
Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.
She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.
She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.
Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...
That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.
Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.
Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.
This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.
Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.
She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.
He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.
And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.
She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.
Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013
Introducing: Jan Allison & Poet Destroyer
Pierced by shards of shattered glass
Deeper and deeper you stab me
With lies and venomous words
Dissecting my heart piece by piece
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose
I’m dying …
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul
Into pieces and a bloody mess
I sacrificed secrets;
Secrets you tore and tore,
Gracing a fake friendship,
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel
Now karma a poisonous snake
You plea ...
To be on death row, decomposing
Dripping into the night -- Silently
fading and fading
Stung by my viper lips,
Until you are no more
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
Is not the poem
Is not the poet
Is the observations
Is the emotions
Is the diversity. entwined
Opposing views always sought
Is the love
Is the hate
Is the sadness
Of losing to fate
Is the laughter
Of a child’s dreams
Is the love
That is sometimes unseen
Except by the poet
Who in his lonely sadness sees
The beauty of all
That surrounds the depression in he
My heart something broke
I became cold
For childhood days gone by
A million ways
Now I write
From down below
Where darkness is the sea
That I sail in eternity
Of in the distance
I heard the notes of a symphony
So now as I sleep
A thousand deaths
For that one musical note
To wake me up
Heart and soul
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin | Year Posted 2013
Life and cigarettes burn to fast.
We waste are time.
So within the moment you bask.
A pretty face has to age.
Every story meets it's final page.
When life breaks you over its cost.
Then you'll sing a lullaby to the lost.
The lights in the street hide all but the truth my
You can act.
But you can never mask your fear.
In dark rooms you sell all but your soul.
A wicked moment a stolen encounter.
All things take there toll.
That sweet face has tuirned hard your so warm
to be cold.
A secret that the bitter have already told.
Can you wash away there stench as from
the past you are tossed.
In dark corners blood stained angles
sing a lullaby to the lost.
Is this hell or a nightmare that knows no end.
A cell to most.
To others the only refuge inwhich they
she falls to the floor a lost look needle
Most will rememeber a doomed fool.
Others her wreckless charm.
She was a junkie and a easy lay.
More bones are broken.
Over words others say.
She sold flesh but payed the ultimate
In a dingy corner of th world.
Were the angles sing a lullaby to the lost.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
It won't stop raining
dismal, forlorn murky skies above
similar to a depressed painter's palette
bring torrent outbursts
becoming heavier and heavier
descending louder and louder
drowning me in a deluge of emotions
soaking the sanity from my drenched soul
Sombre November rain is always different
colder and sinister like a virus rapidly spreading
poisoning my body with intense anxiety
battering me like a hail of bullets in the line of fire
Twilight is swallowed by blackness briskly
stars illuminate, as the moon glows
but nature continues to immerse me
bathing like a forced baptism
How I long for a glimpse of the sun to shelter
but there is no sign of a rainbow any time soon
The Silent One
17 November 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Nobody observes her leaving her room
wearing just her nightdress and red felt carpet slippers
Shuffling silently she slips out of the front door onto the street
Rivulets of rain start to soak her to the skin
Her straggly hair hangs down limply
It becomes so matted and twisted
Soon it looks like writhing snakes are alive on her skull
Her once pretty face is now lined and wrinkled
Rain drips off the crevices and onto her sagging breasts
Wandering off into the night she begins searching
Walking the empty streets with her arms outstretched
Searching, searching, desperately searching
Eventually she reaches the children’s playground
Sitting on a swing she rocks backwards and forwards
The rhythmic movement seems to calm her down
Tears form in her eyes and mingle with the raindrops
Strong arms hold her and she is powerless to resist
She hears voices telling her she must return home
‘We knew you’d eventually find your way here Maisie
It’s time to return to the sanatorium …
In future we will make sure the door alarm is activated’
N/A in previous contest
Submitted to screwed XI
Sponsored by Rob Carmack
Sponsor Nathan D
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
She stands at the edge of the precipice,
looking down towards her future.
The last tears that she will ever cry,
falling from her eyes,
then falling into oblivion.
She watches them drop
as they disappear forever.
Yet, she laughs in the face of death.
Would it really matter if she took the leap?
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.
The wind blowing at her back,
pushes her to the edge.
Almost agreeing with her final decision,
and encouraging her to jump.
A thousand thoughts and memories
racing through her mind.
Her first day of school.
Her tenth birthday party.
The lonely, awkward days of her teenage years.
The day she discovered poetry.
The moment she first saw him.
The day she thought that she was worth something.
The day when all of that became a lie.
that never made the pages of a history book.
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.
She exists to no one but herself.
In the blink of an eye, she decides her fate.
Her feet leave the ground,
and yet, she did not fall.
Out of nowhere he appeared,
and carefully grabbed her hand.
Pulling her back to reality,
saving her from the brink of disaster.
He held her, as her tears stained his jacket.
Old tears of sadness,
mixed with new tears of happiness.
She was remembered by yesterday.
Before she was forgotten by tomorrow.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Marquees bright, and neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
We're holding hands, we're in 'The Strand', red velvet carpets guide us in
Popcorn smokes, .. drinking cokes,... cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along, in her sarong,... With luscious lips, and cigarettes,
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips
'Movietone' intrudes with news, which puts us in somber mood
Third-Reich goosesteps march again, ... an evil presence in the wind...
Cary Grant , (a news reporter), loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy. But Cary loves this ditzy lady....
William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold. The mystery is clearly solved.-- A crimson sun, is rising cold!
Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where soldiers die
Another night, suspense on chart. 'Correspondent' , Joel McCrea.
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day. BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way
Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked
It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
Allied troops are moving tanks. I wait for you..God give me strength
I'm in the Strand, within the dark, there's no one here to hold my hand
I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio
For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Winds may howl,
Wild animals growl,
The forest grows cold,
For I am lonesome and old
As the sun peaks through the clouds,
I hear your soft, young voice so loud!
And though you speak dead man's lines,
You speak them with majesty divine
As I am wrapped in my woe,
I only want you to know...
...that roses die black and violets lose blue,
But I will never die
And you know I love you!
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair
Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee
Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark
She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?
To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife
Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest
And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear
And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber
She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee
Copyright © Nina Hernandez | Year Posted 2010
All That Refuse To See
Your ears shut wide eyes up tight
a menagerie sits in absent light
Time and reason are out of sight
stonecold now is courage's might!
Your eyes embrace a newfound cave
even logic can not your mind save
in blindness you are now a slave
treading a path to shallow grave!
Your screams raise no great alarm
dead plants harvest on your farm
No more shall love be your charm
chained legs match each dead arm!
Your last days filled with cries
fruits set onto your many lies
Dark clouds moan in your skies
Heart rots as soul slowly dies!
Your death was an incoming tide
bled from arrogant false pride
Fait accompli no man can hide
none succeed, many have tried!
01, 23, 1979
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
Tears trace ebony stains across the smooth skin on your cheeks.
Early morning thoughts in early morning darkness,
clouds of confusion and pain fog your mind.
Life, so heavy, pushes you down, deeper and ever deeper,
until you feel your soul squeezing through every pore in your body.
The tears bitter on your lips, your thoughts dark
no love can you see, the flame has become ash
no sound of laughter, the quiet deafens
nothing remains but darkness, loneliness,
Drops drip slowly between your shadowy fingers
pressing tightly, pinching your skin, pain, it's something.
Your bottomless pit swallows you in depression.
Gentle sobs disturbing no one, no one will ever know.
Your crying in the dark I feel
mirrored so closely by my own pain.
If for only a moment you would lean on me,
I would give the world to you, happiness and joy
if only it were mine to give... if only.
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
The poem must begin with .. And the cemetery was then continue with your poem
And the cemetery was shrouded in a veil of early morning mist
which rose eerily from the grey granite and marble graves.
Desperately searching I crept silently from gravestone to gravestone.
My breath came out in tiny white clouds
as soft white snowflakes performed pirouettes,
falling like a downy blanket over the cold marble.
Eventually I came across your final resting place
I recognised the two golden cherubs, carved on either side of your headstone
Gently I brushed away the snow and traced your names with my fingertip
It had only been a few weeks since you had fallen asleep forever
How I longed to hold you and sing you both a lullaby
But it was too late and you lay together in the arms of Jesus
I placed two red roses on the snowy pillow
Then lay down and waited for the sleeping pills to take effect
So we could be reunited in death
Submitted to Laura Loo's Best sad poem ever contest.
Fictional write for ‘And the Cemetery Was’ contest sponsored by Broken Wings
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
The heart I had,
The feelings I possessed,
Are now in vain,
As my heart is in pain.
The glowing cheer died,
My heart now cried,
But the emotions I show,
Makes my heart bow.
The crack that widens inside,
Is getting more and more wide,
No one feel that from outside,
And no one intends to get inside.
My sun has set in my heart,
Feelings to live more depart,
But I need to live,
For the great contribution I should give...
Copyright © Karnik Agrawal | Year Posted 2016
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.
The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...
Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...
Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing
The drugs they administered only made him more demented
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming
His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty
of its existence
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks
Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy
It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it
Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced
just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they
do in stanza two
Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2014
With shadows in the dark,
Facing atrocities of the cold,
Yet drenched in the sweat,
I walk down the street
Am bound to follow what others passed by,
Crime it is as if else I try,
Tears follow the path of my cheek,
And it’s the only way my eyes speak,
Lips of mine when turn dry.
I smile I really try to,
To be happy as if I was made to,
I speak of something I don’t know
But there’s what my heart knows,
That’s what my eyes ponder,
And that’s what untold but true,
Yes I know,
Yes I do,
I am missing me in me,
Yes I know,
Yes I do,
I am missing being me……….
Copyright © Shiraz Iqbal | Year Posted 2013
That disturbed child
The teen girl with no friends,
and is rejected by her loved ones
She feels broken inside,
like theres no other choice
She takes the iron razor,
she puts it to her arm and hopes the pain will fade,
but in the end it only makes her feel worse
She does this to herself not because she is sad,
but because she doesn't think any one cares
What if I put this razor to my throat,
and ended my life
Would they care then?
She feels like no one cares
What she doesn't realize is,
if she died a river of tears would come,
even faster then the blood would run from her
If she only knew life can be brighter
If she would only see,
that she is loved
That disturbed child,
We miss her
and theres no getting her back
What could we have done
Was there any changing her mind
Only God knows
Copyright © Trevor Bain | Year Posted 2012
50 shades of therapy
50 shades of restraining orders
50 shades of rejection
50 shades of addiction
50 shades of suicide
50 shades of rainy days
50 shades of cloudy ways
50 shades of jazz and blues
50 shades of painful memories
50 shades of wartime wounds
50 shades of political doom
50 shades of curtains and drapes
50 shades of a lovers disgrace
50 shades of cereal box tops
50 shades of graveyard graves
50 shades of wistful thoughts
50 shades of pure silk white
50 shades of legal fights
50 shades of everyday light
50 shades of tasteful delights
50 shades of pure sheer fright
50 shades of milking cow
50 shades of milking an idea
50 shades of comical prose
50 shades of sunglasses
Cause I am tired
50 shades of age
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
(please read "Her Masterpiece Is Her Story" before reading the second part. It'll make more sense and probably be more enjoyable!)
The girl who has beautiful scars,
And the boy with marks of strength,
Are now separated by distance,
And that is causing some teenage angst.
The girl wonders how the boy is doing.
Her paintbrush calls her name.
The two can't talk right now,
And she feels she's to blame.
The girl's best friend is lonely,
And she isn't much better.
The only way honesty is revealed,
is through a heart felt letter.
Her scars are fading away,
Everyone knows her secret, so she can't add to the art.
She's wishing she could draw more cuts,
At night the voices in her mind take over her heart.
Her masterpiece is disappearing,
Her artwork is going away.
"What caused you to do this!??!" her family asks.
"I...I hate myself." is all she can say.
She's trying to be okay,
If not for herself then for her friends,
If there's one thing she can't take,
It's their fatal ends.
But she doesn't know how the boy is,
She doesn't know his feeling,
Her mind is going crazy,
Her sanity is reeling.
Since she doesn't know how the boy is doing,
Her anxious mind is filled with worry,
Her demons have told her something.
They're telling her the worst horror story.
Her masterpiece is fading,
I've told you this before.
Her scars are going away,
She wants to make more.
But she doesn't make any.
For the sake of those she loves.
She restrains from her paintbrush.
Even though it fits like a glove.
Her story is continuing,
Her painting isn't dry.
But her canvas is even more,
down upon her thigh.
Maybe she'll erase some drawings.
She's trying to be okay.
She actually doesn't want to get better.
But what am I supposed to say?
Be honest and say she doesn't want that?
Be truthful and say she doesn't care?
Because in her life right now,
Having no motivation? She wouldn't dare!
She misses the life she had before.
She didn't mind hiding her own part of her life.
She would just cope her own way.
She'd cope by using a knife.
Maybe one day she'll draw on an actual paper,
Or paint with an actual paintbrush,
But right now with her anxiety,
She feels that there is no rush.
Don't worry about the girl.
She just cries every night.
But she has to keep going,
Her best friend is in near sight.
It'll be alright everyone,
I'll keep you up to date,
The girl's painting will continue.
If that's the artist's fate.
Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013
She is the muse to her own sorrow;
She is the digger of her grave.
She is the painter of her ocean view
and every fatal wave.
She is the shadow of her Father;
She is the darkness in your sight.
She is the night without the stars
surrounding pale moonlight.
She is the music with no words;
She is sweet love without the reason.
She is your dreamer with submission
cold by warmth with every season.
She is your pet with cold intentions;
She is your baby scared and shaken.
She is the bold and pure- the lost and found,
She is a soul awakened.
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2013
My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view
I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused
I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone
So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss
April 14, 2013
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
a foreboding sound
echoes in a thunderstorm....
mourners at a grave
a torrent of rain
muffles the sound of crying....
watching crows scatter
one wet crow hunches
on branch of the brittle oak....
dark clouds hover low
~ ~ ~ ~
For Skat's "Dark Rain" haiku contest
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
The cockroach crawling inside a satin evil darkness
weeping one clown into silken soft sensual feelings
blinking starlight beacon awaiting a tense message
every living dream doubts becoming nightmares.
Bleeding trapped within a shadow’s eerie smile while
grinning through the hurt smiling at the joy cheering
at twisted laughs with needles of pain, lust, passion
and gasping a victim choking in deep labored breaths.
Choking one heart now taken tragically away from us
With nightshade vision blindly walking in the dark night
into the realm of the dead and forever gone with sad
ice cold whispers playing aloud and striking so deeply.
A taste of hell and a fool’s game of serious malediction
while cold whispers compel us ever so against the wind
as a restless soul is cutting ice frozen in time dreaming
of things past with hypnotic jewels of a deepest beauty.
When little gestures meant so much to each of us all
lost in space dark matter invades and pervades us all
as reigning hell-fire burns down the steep mountainside
and a cold stream held in the ocean becomes one dream.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (May 15, 2015)
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
Don't ask me to apologize for being the monster inside
I refuse to set any agony i have aside
Don't ask me to torch out the fuse i have growing
There is so much torment behind this face without anyone knowing
Don't ask me to unmask this demon i enshrine deep in the dark
It fuels my spirit, whats left of me creating a tiny spark
Don't ask me to let go of the past
All the exploitation has been passed
Don't ask me to neglect the flashbacks you put into my head
So many wounds on my arms from the times you made me bled
Don't ask me to excuse all the sin you created
Cause my heart is buried distant enough it has to be gated
Don't ask me to uncoil and live a little
For how many times you beat me till my bones became brittle
Don't ask me to not dread all of this
I'd have to count the times of deaths i'd nearly miss
You've made me the monster
now don't ask me to apologize
Copyright © nastoshia siedlecki | Year Posted 2014
Yes you, and you, and you over there
The nerve you all have, it’s sickening
What right do you have to leave this world?
Why do you all die on me?
What is life that you toss it away?
Old and sick, humppph excuses I say
I have had enough
No one must leave
Stop, I command time to STOP
Are my tears not enough?
You all conspire against me, I know
To add me to your collection
Why? Why? Why?
All your kind smiles, laughter and love
You make the world shine, and give hope
Only to disappear to the afterlife
Is this not cruelty?
I beg of you all, do not go
I have not the strength to carry on
Here, as you all dwindle away
Leaving me to ponder my own mortality
Alone, alone I sit, knowing romance will be kindled once more
Death will come to offer me a final kiss
Whom will hate me?
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
Her dark hair, laced with silver strands,
cascaded once with sable glint,
then lost (with drifting of the sands
of time) the chasteness of its tint.
It still grows long, but she has kept
her dark hair laced with silver strands
pulled back, attractively upswept,
at times enwrapped in stylish bands.
She misses days of few demands,
the ragtop down, her locks wind-tossed.
Her dark hair laced with silver strands
reminds her now of all she's lost. . .
She combs it out in dying light
of dusk and dreams a lover's hands
touch something soft as moon-streaked night,
her dark hair, laced with silver strands.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010