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Best Pain Poems

Below are the all-time best Pain poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of pain poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Pain Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Pain poems are below this new poems list.

Seeing Deep Pain, In Watering Blue Eyes by Lindley, Robert
Pleasant Pain by Bhattacharya, Sarban
We Curse This Ancient World In Our Great Pain by Lindley, Robert
THE SIGN OF LOVE AND PAIN by Rose, Blue
People in pain by Hamilton, John
MY PAIN by Faith, Edoja
Hidden Pain by Roberts, Kay
Disappointing Pain by Tovar, Kathleen
The Weight of Pain by Callus, Paul
Migraine pain by Payne, Victoria

View all new Pain Poems

The Best Pain Poems

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Letting Go

"Letting Go!"

Behind that garden rail;
Where worms, squirm and roam,
They dig into every worst part of my day.
I feel them crawling, making my hide their home.
They feast on my will, and my dead walking soul.

Slowly I am fading away into a cloud of nothing.
I find myself reminiscing the moment I meet you.
With scars and guilt,
I can’t let go!

I’m cold and miserable inside.
Different emotions, I no longer hide.  
I can’t seem to heal the deep cut from within.
Echoes are twisting moods that have no meaning.
I sit, with a jar full of tears, holding on tight.
Afraid of letting go!

The hollow walls slay  in every way.
The abyss of a waterfall, resides in my heart
This throbbing starvation, repeats the taste it longs for,
I have no control.
I can’t feed without you by my side.
I won't let go!

by:PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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The Angel Inside

Coral life forms in copious swarms
feast in the Cambrian chyme,
dividing their cells and forming their shells
to end on the seafloor as lime.
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
renders marble whiter than bone.
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
to the angel confined in the stone.

A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
and a transcendent creative spark,
charged with ambition to fulfill a commission,
an angel for St. Dominic's Ark.
An artist sublime who will live for all time,
his genius is to see things not shown.
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
its splendor enclosed in the stone.

At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
of the blocks the stone cutters supplied.
In some he sees dreams of potential themes,
but only one holds an angel inside.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
who then lied and claimed to foresee it.
 
With talent and skill he falls to with a will,
surrounded by rubble and relic.
His method you see, for the angel to free
is to remove all the bits not angelic.
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
but there's something further to heed.
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
in the tale of the angel he freed.

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
and is just waiting for something to free it:
to remove all the parts which harden our hearts,
to chip out the darkness and pride,
to smooth the rough patches, to polish the scratches
and unshackle the angel inside.

© January 26, 2013


Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013

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Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

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

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AM I

AM  I ?

Am I Just Standing Here, or Am I Just Dead?
Am I So Full Of Fear, I Lost Myself Instead?

Am I A Nobody, that you can't defend me?
OR
Am I Just Invisible, and you really don't pretend.

Am I Blind, Or I Just Don't Wish To See?
The Love I Cannot Find Is Right In Front Of Me!

Am I Hearing the Truth,
Or Have I Just Been Deceived?
Who Can I Trust?
Who Can I Believe?

Am I So Mad I Just Can't Understand,
Or Am I So Sad I Need A Shoulder And A friend?

Is It Just Me, 
Or Am I All Alone?

***

I wrote this poem 22 years ago
I was pregnant, scared and alone:-( 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Eccentric Eyes

Open eyed, long tearless, foul silvered orbs
have you no pity? The aqua tide rides dry.
Blind staring scorches, accusing twin barbs
who burrow inward, a destiny to decry.

Scattered rendering, puzzled pieces aligning;
"Please mercy has a place, why can't I cry?"
Remove the cataract veneer, stop my pining
"Have you no place for maddened souls such as I?"

Nailed to the boards you see a canvassed psyche
dabbed upon a casein shroud in hues most bright.
"How many lamp lit days will you seek to find me?"
The light betrays me and I live in eternal fright.

Eternities unfold in Lovecraft Tales 
upon the silvered side within my eyes; hell wails.




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014

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Daddy

Daddy

Daddy, why did you go away?
Don't you know I wanted you to stay!

Daddy, when you left mom,
Don't you know you left me too?
Now all I do is cry and cry
--- I want to die!

Daddy, mommy say's it's better this way,
What does she know!
They're not enough band-aids to cover up the blues
Mom's kisses can't heal this kind of pain.

Daddy, I look around 
No one stands in your garage
Daddy, You took every tool
Except the hammer and sitting stool
Daddy, I still miss you 
--- I love you. 
***
Dear Daddy, I'm all grown up now
Haven't seen you since I was 10

Daddy, I sit on your favorite chair,
No longer do I miss the way you caressed my hair.
Daddy, I'm taking the old hammer and this BRAND NEW saw,
It's time to patch all the holes mom punched in the wall 
*The day you walked out on us*
Daddy, don't worry about the times I tripped and fell
Mom found someone to fix  the loose boards,
Got tired of scraping my knees 

Daddy, I finally realized I'm okay,
I agree with mom, it's better this way.

by- Not every dad is great (but step-dad YES!)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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bloody wrists

I'm sitting on the floor
I'm crying so much more
trying to erase this pain
trying to forget your face
sitting here with the blade in my hand
running so slow blood dripping down
in a deep red color
flowing freely the way i want to feel

I'm sitting on the floor 
holding my hand out
I'm holding a bottle
a bottle filled with pills
I'm crying so hard
the pain is unbearable
I'm feeling so weak 

I'm sitting here on this floor 
holding a blade
crying like crazy
trying to take this pain away
I'm trying my best trying to fight
my eyelids feel heavy
my door is so far
the whispered yells to far
falling deep in to sleep

deep..deep..deep..deep
I'm laying on a bed
I'm so confused 
where am i?
my throat feels sore
my body screams in pain
I'm looking around
I'm in a small white room

i try to move,
my hands are stuck
i try to get up
i feel restraints 
what happened to me?

I'm laying on a bed
trying to get up
my head hurts
a nurse is here
a shot is administered 
i drift to sleep
I'm in the psych ward
why am i here?

I'm lying on a bed
laying so still 
my wrists hurts to no end
I'm crying out loud
screaming and cussing
my body hurts
i can't remember

all i remember are my bloody wrists
and a bottle of pills
all i remember is the pain i was in.....






Copyright © GRACIE GONZALEZ | Year Posted 2013

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An Empty Tissue Box

When pain hits hard, you might feel like your soul is bleeding out, but there’s no blood to see. Your body is the part that takes the toll, and physically you feel agony. Perhaps the pain goes to your heart as though a knife has sliced right through it, or you feel it in your gut as if you took a blow. No cut or bruise is shown, yet it is real! When both the body and the spirit seem to reach their limit, tears are overdue. You have to let those tears go! Let them stream and carry out the bitterness for you. An empty tissue box becomes the sign that soon, and hopefully, you will be fine. Checked with howmanysyllables.com


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Nightmares and Razor Blades

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,
One, 
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
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

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I The Mirror - With A Major Contribution By Joseph May - Dramatic Free Verse


an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong, 
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.

i the mirror
not 
the babbling brook,
or
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.

i
the mirror,
who was once held in the 
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
now lay
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
and i 
one thousand shards
the cracks
the jaded moments of my life.

i 
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.

never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!


i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.

my world 
a perverse facade
of
what should of been
of
what 
is
of
what
was

or of
what? WHAT?
less?
i guess.

NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

whose voice 
will bring me peace,
whose rapier 
will deliver me,

who will 
burn my body whole
or
dig me a deep hole
or
throw me void of soul

into 

the waters of the screaming ocean 
who herself dies a slow painful death.

Dec 20 2015
armand 
with a major contribution by
Joseph May


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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Imbedded in pages

I picked up my tube of super glue
In hopes of piecing together
Sad lonely broken you
As I sifted through the bits
I wasn't sure what to do
Although there were many pieces
I was missing quite a few

Looking back to yesterday 
tomorrow now and then
I Kept searching and searching
over and over again
To find the missing pieces
I looked to your pen
More than twenty-two missing
or perhaps less than ten

Imbedded in the paper
those pieces I sought
The lessons you had learned
and the pain they had brought
All your moments revealed
They came together in thought
I heard paper like screaming
cutting through me like a shot

The glue I was holding
Dissolved slowly like sand
so I gathered up your heart
and held it in my hand
My tears fell amongst the pieces
in a way I didn't  understand
Your heart became too hot to handle
So I placed it on the land

Lifting heart up from the ground
You placed it slowly in your chest
All those bits that truly formed you
came together and we were blessed
Hidden answers you chose to scribe
where always meant to be a test
Revealing what we all are missing
those parts of us that go unconfessed
 

















Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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Mirror, Lie to Me

I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me

I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick

Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!

My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
It gets so hard to focus
When all I feel is dazed

Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake

I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams

Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!

Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

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A Wish -re-post-

A WISH -- In Memory Of 

"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?

Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make 
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.

In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013  ---   RIP March 25, 2013

----------
by;PD  :-(


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.


Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

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You Hit When I was Low

You hit when I was low
The pain you caused, you know
Threw dust on glitter glow
Made weeds of sorrow grow
Cued pent-up tears to flow

You hit when I was low

You hit when I was down
Made me a freak show clown
Took jewels from my crown
Gave not a smile but frown
Held me until I drown

You hit when I was down

You hit when I was sad
Made good turn sour, bad
Streaked pain into my glad
Bandied words like “mad”
Spilled ink on writing pad

You hit when I was sad

You hit when I was lost
Clueless to what it cost
Flowers: blighted in frost
My sentiments you tossed
My boundaries you crossed

You hit when I was lost

You looked down from on high
Not hearing heavy sigh
Not seeing tears I cry
Not caring if I die
And Still you don't know why…
To you I’ve said, “Goodbye”

Jade







Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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My Heart and Soul Cry Justice

Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity

My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!

It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away

My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE

And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role

My passion mad cries…JUSTICE

I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite

My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE

And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh

My hungry need cries…JUSTICE

This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face

Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!

For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Love Notes in a Bottle

Love Notes in a Bottle

It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come

That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free

Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Wrapped deep
Inside of old love letters

She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes

Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee

You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost

On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee

A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand

Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears














Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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Silence is the cure

When the whole world is causing you pain and anguish,
everything they say only afflicts deeper wounds.
Trapped in a cage, but no one hears your screams.
You try to explain, but no one understands your words.

Demons begin to play hide and seek with your soul,
and the voices in your head are hammering your brain.
Sooner or later everybody abandons you,
there is no one to save you, how worthless you have become.

All alone, like a butterfly you look to return to your cocoon,
fragile and broken you turn into an ascetic recluse.
But in isolation and solitude you can save yourself,
so listen to the silent messages hidden in your grief.

These are the messengers who bring the secrets to your cure,
lose yourself in the tranquillity and serenity of silence.
In silence everything begins to make sense,
let it weave it's magic and bring you back to peace.

Silent One. 9 August 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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Long Distance Dreamer

Call me evil
Call me names
Call me 

Kiss me on the lips
Kiss my heart
Kiss me

Wrap me in your arms
Hold me within your breasts
Whisper your longings

Touch me with your voice
Touch me with your caress
Touch me

Fondle the thought of forever
Fondle the thought of longing
Fondle me

Dance for the happiness inside of you
Dance to wash away your tears
Dance into my arms

Walk the path of wisdom
Run towards my heart
Kiss contentment

The sword of lust is shining
A dozen daffodils to undress your heart
Flower me with kisses

Call me


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

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There is no good in goodbye

Had my heart not shattered into stainless steel shards,
I would have never been severed by a deck of playing cards.
Dealing with the black and red death of fifty two faces,
Shuffling wax coated cards looking for the bloody aces.
In tights worn and wasted, I've been the joker far too long,
Hands on the Kings sword, battles bow to the broken song.

Can I forgive you, for I cannot forget the agony,
A million lies and memories die under breath of me.
Paper cuts drip my poisoned blood in on the wax floor.
Fallen is this house of cards, I cannot stand you anymore.
Faces all they do is laugh at me, mocking my jester grin.
Chiming of these bells on my hat, heart broken harlequin.

Razor blade smile cuts open tear stained scars,
Burns on my palms from trying to reach the stars.
Withering like roses, blown away like ash in the breeze,
Wing clipped angel crawls on the ground with dirty knees.

Arrows hitting the bulls eye, painful piercing pride dies,
When is there ever any good in the saying of goodbyes.


12-26-2014


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014

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Sarah's Story - Mental Illness

Sarah’s Story - Mental Illness
Sarah, the “Crazy Lady,” was a familiar sight, roaming the streets any time of day or night. Her foul body odor announced her presence, as she paraded around in her filthy, smelly garments. Walking barefoot regardless of the weather, in her state of mind, she couldn’t do better. Children teased and made fun of Sarah, reciting ridiculing ditties, adding to the drama. Behind her a lively entourage would follow, taunting and calling her names creating a sideshow. They howled with childish laughter, as Sarah hurled angry profanities after. An avid collector of all kinds of trash, she transformed her abode into a garbage stash. Sarah’s odd behavior made her fair game, to unkind people who had no mercy or shame. While many folks turned a blind eye, young boys threw rocks and other missile, at the roof and windows of the shack she occupied. Behind bushes, they would scamper away to hide, as Sarah furiously dashed outside, brandishing a machete, cudgel, or broom, screaming out curses, damnation, and doom. Like a cancer, her mental illness had devoured her brain, and before long, she was officially "certified insane." Most agreed it was for her own benefit, and for the good of society to be rid of this "misfit." But even though she was locked away in an institution, no psychiatric treatment could cure her mental condition. When Sarah finally died, she was unloved and alone; her passing was hardly noticed, and she was mourned by none.
Note: This piece was inspired by a true account. While we have made great strides in the study of mental illness and understanding it, unfortunately negative attitudes and beliefs toward people who have mental health conditions are still common. Thus, as a society, we still have a long way to go to improve our attitudes and to show more caring and compassion for those who suffer from various types of mental illness.


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

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- The Main Role -



I do not always stay on top of the mountain

The room is empty, tears produce no sound

The silence answered with deep thoughts

Grief feels like to drown in the depths of darkness

In my quietest and lonely moments

As the black chords in a sad play













  10.06.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved




Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

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Forgotten son

I sat alone... Siblings playing with father.  Guess I'm the black sheep or was I adopted?  Maybe I'm an orphan,  after all it is me who has to disguise these bruises. Nobody knows the daily abuse inflicted upon me.  Everyday the rain seems heavier and skies murkier, as I hide in the clouds - in misery.  What have I ever done to deserve such punishment? Why does God not send me an angel? "Go put the garbage out!" Father demands - my moment of silence disturbed. Why does father blame me for mother's death?

Father stop beating me - I don't want to cry any more it really hurts - the bruises heal, but not the pain I'm dying - please let me live I didn't want mother to die - I loved her too I'm sorry that cancer took her life - I miss her too Why have I become the forgotten son? Lashing out will not bring her back again Instead of protection - I must protect myself from you Maybe you are right - I'm better of dead I wonder who will catch my final tear as darkness begins to appear
My first attempt at prose and Haibun (this one is freestyle). This poem is completely fictional. Haibun Free-Style - Poetry Contest by Scott thirtyseven 27 November 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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The Portrait

He cloaked her skin with a dark silk gown made of tattered wings neath the hunter' skies He covered her hair with a mourning veil Upon her face his hands did play Mysteriously the vacant gaze the secret pains His brush did paint the monaliza's eyes upon her lips he carved a smile with no expressions nor expectations of what one is to behold Enigmatic, Suffocating Secret whispers still untold Ghostly mist will keep on lingering in the silence of her soul There she stares from the old portrait Would somebody let her go? He stares He ponders Was this the girl who entered his dream? Did he paint her pain? Was she the same? Lush lips that couldn't smile Sullen eyes that couldn't lie telling of strife unable to bloom sheltered from the light Futures slowed Hopes dashed Dreams crushed Was he to save her? Thoughts echoed in his mind Is he her savior? Her mystery? Her hero? Will he fly to her side? Will he be her star that shines? Listen closely the portrait calls save me, come save me


Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2014

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ICE KING


My skin petrified, mummifying my hand
upon pools of brittle ice
like curdled blood piercing veins: I watch
the moon bathing its flesh,
 
in crystal yellow, waxing a sheen...
my pores dilate as cubes slowly melt
when this fired orb heals from above

till its velvet breath climbs into my head, 
extinguishing limbo of a daze…until I convulse in joy
when chunk-stone changes into glimmered dew.



*I held ice cubes on my palms and was transported
back to scene of one night when a high fever drowned
my senses… for some reason, viewing the glory 
of the moon relieved me from delirium… 

Ice King Contest of Skat
( in less than 10 lines)
25July2013
by nette onclaud







Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013