Best Harm Poems
School
They say they are here to help,
Yet have never actually helped.
They say they are there,
They are nowhere.
I don't see why they hate me,
Maybe they just can’t see.
All this rage,
I want to change.
I hate who I have become,
Yet I'm still so young.
I try to do good,
They never really understood.
I try,
But all I do is cry.
I hate this place,
They act like it’s a race.
I'm supposed to be learning,
Yet all I do is concerning.
Always in trouble,
It’s become a struggle.
Nobody ever wants to hear what I have to say,
One day when I’m doing better than they always did maybe they will regret what they didn't say.
Fires ablaze within my eyes,
A smile concealing all my lies,
Screaming, begging, calling out,
A final, frantic, desperate, shout.
Scarlet tears drip from each vein,
A vehement covet to end this pain,
This silver blade, stays by my side,
Because all hope inside has died.
As each day ends, and darkness draws,
The devil toys, with all my flaws,
I'm helpless, alone, a worthless mess,
A broken child, he must address.
I'm tempted when he calls my name,
A way out, an escape, an end to shame,
To make it feel a lot less real,
A deal with the Devil, in blood must I seal.
They'll say I died of suicide,
But no one knows how much they've lied,
It wasn't a rope, a blade, or pills,
That broke my soul, and gave me chills.
I died inside so long before,
To live each day, an endless chore,
Pills could not kill what was already dead,
A twisted soul, an empty head.
In darkness I wait, in silence, alone,
Rose-tinted nostalgia, all around me has grown,
I beckon the devil, with the key of self-harm,
And I open the door for him, with the blood of my arm.
A pyromaniac named Jack,
Who hailed from the town of Hackensack,
Decided one day,
with matches he’d play
He’s a mummy now, flat on his back!
Shaking hands, legs covered in blood...
Where am I?
My vision is a blur, but I can’t unsee you.
Nothing about this feels right.
I hear your voice, again and again:
“Just take the pills, they’ll give you a thrill.”
For a moment they’ll numb my brain.
But it’s two in the morning,
The tears in my eyes and marks on my thighs
Tell me I still feel the pain.
The bedroom on Tuesday,
Your workplace on Wednesday,
The club on Thursday night.
I’m tired, exhausted -
Can’t do this much longer,
How can you think this is right?
I lie in bed,
Blade in my hand,
The tip to my skin.
Your face in my mind,
Your hands on my chest –
And now it’s under my chin.
At my door once more,
My heart picks up at the sight.
My vision blurs, but I can’t unsee you,
Back in my room? Not tonight.
……….gale force winds announce the doom
…………………..portent of a dark and deathly gloom
…………………………..a maddening shriek of raging wind
……………………….howling terror the frightening din
………….rips great trees from the ground
….tosses the structures all around
………….raging malice haunting fright
………………twister spinning in the night
……………………….darkened clouds surging
…………….wind and rain merging
…..funnel of mighty hell
..tolls the death knell
…………terrors bloody ride
…………………..nowhere to hide
…………spinning away
…….from all that
…………..used to be
……..what we
…………called
………..this
………..life
I love my Mother.She is very gentle hearted.
She helps me learn fine manners.
She makes me active,encourages me;
She is there by my side always.
SHE IS "THE BEST"
Let me further describe a 'Woman'
It makes me wonder
This is about the gender
Let the heavens thunder
May be it's not a blunder
Her smiles are warm
There is no harm
It's only her charm
She is a Woman !!
I pray for this precious soul that
God has gifted us, and that's a 'WOMAN'
My sweet 'MOTHER'.
~DEEPA~
Placed as Honorable Mention
In BRIAN'S CHOICE 7,any form,any theme
poetry Contest
Suicide, Self harm and Abuse…
The three things that are on my mind constantly. I hurt from the abuse I bleed from my self harm and I cry from my attempts. Sometimes I wish I can go somewhere and never come back. Sometimes I wish that none of this happened and sometimes I wish that she'd care more about me.
Quail not at Death’s door if you wrought no wilful harm
Quail not at Death’s door if you wrought no wilful harm
Should turning back in vengeance be the Dead Man’s qualm
Though even as the end nears the comfort of proffered pardon
Will in no way replace the sacrifices to expunge the burden
Sure everyone wreaks harm by chance or through ignorance
During those moments when control depends on circumstance
The way the chips fall is not a matter for individual call
Is not that the way centillions of quarks knock into it all
Do the Dead turn back to set right their splintered houses
Or do the worlds keep spinning guided by original causes
Tell not the man whose wits desert him what’s really wrong
The punishment the Dead incur is a judgement well foregone
He who turns self-righteously around to avenge or to meddle
To set right the world’s injustices in the Manichean treadle
Might earn himself a life’s sentence to roam all over again
Dead people walking numb through friendless terrain
All they may be able to do is to warn you of a fiddle
Of some danger sapping your strength the key to a riddle
Even if friends and relatives who betrayed your confidence
Will cling to spurious justifications ever through repentance
Think not of the lives milling lost in the neck of your clouds
Is there no end to ramifications vilifications in livelihoods
Do the Dead take along with them the history of their lives
And in which distant sibling planet are they stored in archives
If only it were as easy as to look up and wish them all away
What good can this earth be with us all dead in it anyway
Bickering for pieces of molten land pieces of names in decay
Metals and rock on fire hurtling down minuscule Milky Way
What need has the Maker for such a vast and roving Empire
Even children give up playing with trains and coaches on fire
Do the Dead renew passports before entering galactic spaces
Or do they coddle up in comfort in inalienable birth-places
Wouldn’t our world be some thing else but for this baffling secret
The foregone fate of earth-born gods if it weren’t for this regret.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
The pill brand harm,
In every pHARMacy!
They keep us turning down the halls like cattle
Keep your eyes up
Face forward
No phones
Stay in routine
You’ve done this for so many years now
No distractions
Don’t look at the broken people next to you
Face forward
A girl at your school killed herself because of the bullying
Study hard
They found a bullet at a high school
No phones
The gun was never found
Wait until the bell rings
A girl was sexually assaulted
No sleeping in class
Keep walking, walking, walking
Don’t look at the stripes lining peoples arms
Stop talking while I’m teaching
Don’t stare at the faint mascara streaks running down her face
Turn to page 34
Stop looking at the boy who is googling how to make a pipe bomb during study hall
Raise your hand
How dare you talk badly about the baseball player who raped you
I’ll give you assigned seats if you don’t stop talking
Don’t worry about the girl who weighs 80 pounds, guidance counselors will take care of her
Did I say you could talk
The girl is threatening to overdose in the school bathroom
What’s the answer to this problem on the board
We are not watching out for our peers
We are not being active enough to make a change
I have woken up too many times from a nightmare of a school shooting
Of a suicide
Of a sexual assault
These are everyday problems
But our schools are deciding to ignore them
Many of us are uncertain of the future
Whether or not we will live to see another day
Either by our own hands or someone else’s
Will we have the strength to continue
To not jump in front of the bullet?
I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t take that opportunity
But the school keeps up moving forward
Keep walking down the narrow halls
Heads up
No distractions
Like cattle
-------------------------------------------------------------
12/12/2018
'A Sad Christmas' - December 2018 Writing Challenge - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Why am I not better yet?
I’ve stopped eating,
Stopped thinking
The clock is ticking
Faster, faster
The days are blending together
I’ve cried too many tears
I’ve lost too many friends
I’ve ran out of sleep
My hands are shaking
My legs are bouncing
My hair hasn’t been washed
My teeth are yellow
Why am I not better?
I’m drowning in my own tears
I’m ill and no one is helping
This illness isn’t what it seems
It’s blood dripping down my arms
It’s tears being shed nightly
It’s the thought of being dead
It’s thoughts of hating myself
Is this all life has in store for me?
Why am I not better yet?
ive been quiet to long i need to be vocal
need a magic telescope i can see hope thru
while i remain drug free and teetotal
a blade is sumthin i need to be close to
self harmin since bein a teenager
ill never let my dreams fade
people stare at my scarres like there lookin at there favourite screensaver
put my heart in every lyric on each page
i know its as bad as my moms drinkin and brothers drug taking
but when you go home you have a hug watin
i never expected no one to luv me
sumtimes i wish sumone would hug me
they say home is where the heart is
alone is where the dark is
if i had a better childhood would i be able to trust more openly
would i speak my mind without first puttin it in a book of poetry
would i push more hopfully
look for love more vocally
more ups and downs than a light switch
why should i be tight lipped
ive been searchin and not findin
workin and still climbin
i dont need an advocate
this is real talk call me the white fabolous
im cleanin out my closet
like my idol eminem
paintin a paicture u should screen it out and watch it
ill share my views before i give my pen 2 them
they will try and paint me as the bad guy
but aint seen the world thru my eyes
2 months after my dad died
my best friend commited suicide
6 months ago was the last time i self harmed
and it seems like a life time
instead of usin a blade i pick up a pen
and follow my dream of bein a rapper so i write rhymes
behind every dark cloud theres a silver linin
you have to have the will 2 find it
lifes short u need a passion or dream to fill the time in
2 get to the top it may take a while
be strong and dont let anyone break your smile
The nature of bad news infects the teller.
FROM Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare
Heart of glass
Once transparent and clear
Shattered
Love drained , disappeared
Porcelain spirit
Crumbled , crushed
No longer soars
Trust turned to dust
Crystal soul
Cracked and chipped
Time needs to restore
Damage from harms cruel grip
To My Moma Who Always Has My Love
The way you now treat me
sadly composed my plea
for shared love to guide us
with hearts that silence fuss.
I miss the you I knew
and you must miss me, too.
I have loved you since birth -
Mom, must we harm our worth?