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Best Poems Written by Nichole Anderson

Below are the all-time best Nichole Anderson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

One Last Day

The second I see the final day,
the moment I breath my beats away
my heart growing slower 
by each second I stay
with each less breath 
I have one thing to say,

this is't suicide
this isn't shame
this is one way
to remember my name
my story and how I became
your unloved child
on Earths deadly terrain

I would look 
into your lying eyes
and beg to see the man
that I despise
I would ask of you
the honest truth
on how and why
you killed your
daughters youth
hopes and dreams
for nothing I've seen
is what it seems

Father if I just lived one more day
I would make your life Hell,
I would make you pay
for I am a child 
whos voice was stolen
and didn't have a choice

I'm not the happy poet
everyone wants me to be
I just wish for you to know
the things in which I see

I would tell the world 
with my final breath
To stop this deadly game
for I am a child of envy
and my father delivered the pain
with my last beat
I brought an end to his game

here lies me,
a child driven
insane

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Breakable

My life is a tragic story
you read about
that kind of thing that 
would made you sick
to dream about
but when you have a child
it's one of those things you
have to think about
and never question them
nor ever show dout

Mother you should have known
I'd never lie to you
you should have seen
then little girl inside of me
but how crazy am I for
even thinking you'd care
it's my life
be my hated affair

I didnt have to problem
to be the one to hate class
to me is was another pass
from the life of glass
i knew one day I wouldn't
be able to take it and it'd just shatter
instead my head was filled with
laugher, ringing in a painful screech
no reason to give a hopeless speech

of how right and wrong
effected me 
or how his choices
made me into me
the angered, crazed and
halmful daze of a child left behind
I am a child to a mother
who was meant to be born blind

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Story From Within the Mind of a Madman

I can no longer hear the voices, 
so now I'm not sure what to say. 
I've come to the conclusion 
that they would know a better way to tell this story.
At least if I could hear their opinions or suggestions, 
that would help me to get a definite idea in what order this should be said.
They might of even told me when to add something important, 
and leave out the unneeded information. 
After all, I've known them for so long, and had their help this far, 
I'm not exactly good at these types of things anymore.
Many things have happened, but I don't know where to start, 
let alone the fact that my mind tricks me into seeing what isn't there, 
and for once they aren't here to warn me. 
It's like one moment my memories are engraved in stone, 
to the next moment they are being washed away by the ocean tide, 
taking the restless sand out to sea.
Thats the big problem with being labeled, crazy; 
you're never sure about the things you see.
I could start by telling you, 
it ended in death but to that effect, it also started in death.
So, I'm not exactly sure of what to say. 
Maybe, just maybe I could try to remember something before I went utterly mad. 
All I know in this moment is that some people died, 
and I'm lucky enough not to be one of them. 
The voices told me so, 
that was the last thing they said nefore they left me alone.
instead of their whispers, 
all I have now is the medications that are beign shoved down my throat daily. 
The oval egg-shell blue pill, or my psychotropic pill sickens me. 
Followed by me swollowing the pill,
 my mouth becomes dry until I'm practily weezing and gasping for air, 
as I bang my fists against my own chest so I can breathe.
This pill is like an elevator that can only stay 
in one place for so long but cannot go up. 
The doctors keep saying no matter how happy I feel, 
it's just a facade, a hoax, a joke, 
for the real emotion is lying in wait for the right moment to pounce and release my 
hell bound anger, 
or so they tell me

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Falter

My sanity in constricted
by all the lies,
and the non convicted
my hope was faltered
and my truth will fail
this taste of honesty
has become so stale
my lips colorless
my skin pale
my eyes were covered
by your lustful vail
and your lust was satisfied
by my undoing
and my broken will
you took it upon yourself
set out for my kill
or murder
and no one ever bothered
to ask you
"Would you hurt her?"
so shall I sit
here by myself
and now I shall know
I shall never have help.

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Abuse

I'm bound by a secret 
and it's so hard not to tell
I'm bound by my regrets
The things I've done
or things I never will,
   It's like a constant push and pull
how pain made me a fool
how time elapsed
my heart clasped
and you destroyed everything
everything I stood for
and everything I had,
everything I fought for
and then made me look bad
    I tried to play the victim
but I was far to strong
you tried to plead innocent
because you said your never wrong,
they let you walk, a thousand miles
and stomp up to my door
but with two bullets and my gun
we wont fight anymore.

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Power

Trail, error 
here I lay as I fall one last time
posting another poem
into a beaten lie
here I lay within the hands of time
as the people before me,
I fade into the past
the thought of my life
never seemed to last
 trail, error,
stranger, anger
what I needed was a home
but because of you,
I'm never alone
even in my own head
so father kill me
I want to be Dead

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

A Cowboy Is

A sweet reality, The cowboy image
A laborer wore what he could get
ready- to - wear,
would make city men quit
hand me downs
and second hand clothes
discarded garments
by men who stuck up their nose,

in a ranch or range
they'd stay the same
so Still, so proud, 
this typical cowboy
could easily fit in with a crowd
but their sense of self dignity
kept them off the ground
where as city men
always fell down,

filled to the brim
in honesty
a cowboy 
suits were for the rich
and poor hearted
the origins of the cowboy
was never truly started,

for in my mind 
this wonderful man
so moral and true
has to be a dream
This cavalry issued
every silent night
where he fights to stay awake
while city men turn out the lights

The cowboy needed to know how to ride,
rope, saddle, and bronc'
then they had to use their bare hands
like a real man to build shelter
for the animals in which they keep
then as the sun rises 
the cowboy catches sleep

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

According To My Parents,

my name is..

Whore,  slut, skank, worthless, never should of been born,
get out, go die, why does anyone bother with you, get out of my way,
stupid, moron, retard, dumb ass 

I never knew one person could have to many names,

accodind to my parents, my birthday is...

A waste of time, shouldn't have happpened, a big mistake, your alive?, 
your not getting anything from me, was the day you should have died

I am glad  to know they know of my birthday,

according to my parents, I am....

only good to please men, should be prostiute

yes tell that to your sixteen year old daughter,

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

Our First Valentines

I opened up my box of chocolates,
I could tell you that dropped them
you handed me my flowers
that got crushed by your hands
and my ear rings didn't fit just right
your work called you into tonight 
   but that's okay, I wouldn't want it
any other way, to tell you the truth
I like to watch you stumble, 
but I don't want you to fall
  You forgot to wear the watch that I
just bought you, and when you woke up
all you did was want to fight too.
But that's okay I wouldn't want it any other way.
    I like to watch you stumble in your over sized shoes
knowing that you try so hard to impress me with everything you do.
but you don't have to, all I want, all I need is you.


        So I tossed out the chocolates
and threw the flowers on the bed, I put in my ear rings and this is what I said.
"I like to watch you stumble, but never see you fall, I like to watch you wake up
and yell than not see you at all, I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Valentines Day."

Details | Nichole Anderson Poem

The Unexpected

Living is another way the devil keeps ahold of me
on every line of this page, I sink deeper into 
vast open spaces
Empty, lies my minds blankness
 
In every word I express
sounds another voice, depressed

Help me in my slumber
eating away my breathe
let mercy have me
let this bring me closer to death.