Bruised Poems

Beneath Bruised Skies

Beneath Bruised Skies

The wind, a ghost with an unseen hand,
Whips grit and dust across the Oklahoma land.
It carries the smell of ozone, sharp and cold,
A story whispered, ancient, bold.
You feel its tug, a constant plea,
A playful push, then suddenly,
A heavy cloak of pressure drops,
As every buzzing insect stops.

The sky turns bruised, a sickly green,
A painted

Smugded Face paint and a bruised ego

The Merger of Clowns
where the two are out 
performed by amatuers
Sorrow the pains of
birdseeds that
were thrown at the
frowning two
cursing and swearing
they ruined the moods of
many in attendance
there boozey breathe also noticed
by there challengers
in song the lose
it dance they have been defeated
the balloons were pitiful
and there costumes were somethey had worn the night before
they bottles of

Still I Rise Again

I have walked through the hush of goodbyes,
where silence roared louder than grief,
where memories clung like shadows,
and love became a thief.

I lost not just them, but parts of me—
echoes of laughter, pieces of light.
My soul wore mourning like a second skin,
and daybreak blurred into night.

I reached for hands that let me fall,
poured love into a

You Don't Want Me

You don’t want me.
I’m broken and bruised
I’m a web of ugly scars from my healing
I’m a fraud
I’m a jittery, anxious idiot who can’t stop thinking
I’m the friend that always dampens the mood
I’m a product of my racing heart and mind colliding
I’m someone who feels such heaviness but can’t cry
I spend every second trying to please

Mistreated

You have taken my soul
Left me hollow inside
The love I gave you wasn't enough
You needed something more 
Istead depth of the ocean
You choose shallow water
The price I have paid dearly
With a bruised and broken heart
I have been mistreated baby 
Abused ruthless as a storm
And I'm letting you go
For I'm losing my mind
Got to get over

A smiling orange and a bruised one

A bowl of Fruit sits 
A smiling orange and a bruised one 

Both yearn to be picked  
Both yearn to be loved 

A hand reaches for the fruits 
The smiling orange wins  

Nails puncture the skin of the fruit 
Its sour juice drips like rain  
its smile shines  

The bruised orange

Bruised Love

The red bruise
Misleading symbol, not love's hue
But a map of my pain
A testament to your rage

Your anger, my sorrow
Your ego, my suffering
Your pleasure, my helplessness
Your power, my despair

Don't mistake my vulnerability
For weakness, it's not
You're not strong, just controlling
I loved, you didn't.

My heart once open, now battered
By your hand, your words
Love turned to shame, to pain
A

A bruised mind from the blows of thoughts

A bruised mind from blows of thoughts,
A heavy heart, with emotions caught,
In a maze of reflections, I wander and roam,
Searching for solace, a place to call home.

The weight of worries, a burden to bear,
A constant barrage, of fears and despair,
The mind a battlefield, where thoughts collide,
Leaving scars, and a soul to hide.

The echoes of memories,

My Beautiful Bruised Brain

Igniting pain retrieving the chemical imbalance 
in my brain soft tissue itched my frontal lobe 
leaned over my forehead as my temporal lobe 
offered little comfort in cognitive skills my optic 
nerve damage piercing pain over my right eye 
I didn't dare blink as I began to wonder how 

much time my brain actually has

The Bruised Blooms

Beauty, a siren song upon the breeze, 
Whispers to hearts where kindred spirits sigh. 
Souls, crowned with thorns, yet yearning to appease 
The world's harsh symphony, with each fractured cry. 
A broken bloom, though marred by winter's sting, 
Still holds a fragrance, a sweet offering.

Courage, a fearless knight, forever bold, 
Leads them beyond the veil

BRUISED IMPRESSION

Bare hands stirring over my body
Little resistance, pushed against wall
Echoing of my scream shivered down
Strong figure felt like a known to me
The stare sensed me of my own blood
Little did I know, Dad about you..

A bruised lover's resolve

He's been part hero part villain
Struggling with her toying
His babe's tossed his heart in a grinder
Yet smiles at him
He know what u doing
It hurts like crazy
She puts her blame on him
Babe thinks he's a fool
Doesn't know he's always 2 steps ahead
She wants him an all out villain
But he loves his innocent heart
Deep down he still

Bruised Syllables

A letter to my wounds,
fragranced with powdered incense,
every word woven from carnelian ink,
beauty lies in the readers heart,
bruised syllables define nothing,
when everything phrased and vented,
are mere signs of bravery, 
flowing in eloquence. 
So, see beyond vague verses,
crafted from mystical metaphors,
and sanguine similes,
there streams,
truth of a healing mind,
still bleeding broken ballads,
and soulful sonnets; 
same rhythm as

The Royal Lampshade - 2nd Place

Expensive lampshade like made of gold 
With soulful stories to be told 
But deep inside, it is bruised 
For, in the deepest pit, it cruised

The sitting crowns brought it to sails 
A silent witness to their triumphs and fails 
It had a taste of their spank 
And in their sinking, it also sank 

In the

My Bruised Soul

My name defamed, my soul is bruised.
With no proof I’m falsely accused.
My accuser’s believed today.
Lord heal my aching soul I pray.

My soul’s innocent has no shame.
I did not do what they all claim.
How do I disprove what they say?
Lord heal my aching soul I pray.

Cease hate and persecution too.
Let them see the harm they all

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