She is always playing victim, seeking validation desperately.
She is not woman enough to handle conflict without her attorney.
Her bitter heart seems to hate more successful women who seem to have it all.
Whenever she feels triggered, the manager will get a call.
She hates seeing these kinds of women smile, it brings tears to her eyes.
Like a scared little girl she clings to her doofus husband like he is some kind of prize.
It grosses her out to see me happy.
She has tried turning friends against me to make my life crappy.
But in those attempts she did not succeed.
Most people know she is a miserable crybaby indeed.
She can't stand the sight of me so whenever she comes my way,
I smile and wave and shout, "See you next Tuesday!"
Everybody have something they crave to get ,
All shall face disappointments or even worse through their pursued of happiness, at the deep end of it all one might lose aura and the best of all shall put into work ending up surviving!
but You kept on crying, crying so hard you lost sight that the fight goes on! With your quavering voice , falling down slowly and painfully only raising the price of your horror!
look at you and tell me what you see the mirror won’t lie today for you shall see what you have become a cry babe .....
My mood has been anything but jolly lately
Winter I've had many, must be way past eighty
Back in hibernation, I go
Had way too much snow
Enough for ten lifetimes, do I sound like a crybaby
I guess I'm a crybaby because I cry in my poems
I can make you feel alive with my words, but I died in these moments
I struggle to smile, I struggle to feel, I struggle with everything
I'm a crybaby because depression poisoned me with it's deadly sting
I cry without shedding tears
I can't live until I dead my fears
A bed of regret and a cover of mistakes
I give my food for thought and hope I give enough to cover the plate
I look out of the window as the rain falls
I begin to feel happy and then the pain calls
I'm stupid enough to pick the phone up
Depression forces me to think about the wrong stuff
I picture myself dying, and dream about death almost daily
I'm trying to be positive, but I feel low lately
I'm trying to find the inner strength that I know I have
Until then I'll just be a crybaby and shed tears with ink on my pad
I guess I'm a crybaby because I cry in my poems
I can make you feel alive with my words, but I died in these moments
I struggle to smile, I struggle to feel, I struggle with everything
I'm a crybaby because depression poisoned me with it's deadly sting
They call me crybaby
'cause I cry all the time
Can't hold back my tears
When I'm not feeling fine
Give me my milk
I'm raising my voice
Don't you wanna play
With me and my toys?
I hurt my head
Won't you come running?
I'll scream even louder
When I don't hear you coming
Gently caress me
And hold my hand
Won't you follow me
Into playland?
Do what I want
Or my doll's gonna die
You don't want to make
Your babygirl cry
Crybaby…
Painful and tired crawling in mud;
Weeping and seeking heavenly bud.
Nothing is near, cannot see far.
Colors are dying, dying in tar.
Where am I going? Into a hole
Losing my body, losing my soul!
Nothing is certain except the light;
Sunrise and sunset full of delight.
What else is here? Except the pain!
Is this a prison with no wall and chain?
How can I escape? Going away;
into the rainbow, bashful and gay.
Don’t cry baby, don’t cry baby
Crying won’t do it. Dying maybe….
Haloo
2/2015
dear all ive harmed and all i will
i know you wont listen
to my one truthful spill
but im sorry for harming you
and i always will
think back to the days
when i was a boy
and twelve years came to pass
took my innocence,my joy
broke all my bones
took my heart and my soul
and held them all hostage
then killed them and stole
all i held oh so dear
though im only 16
no my only true fear
is to leave the one green
place the lord hath given me...
eden it was
now you see i wasnt meant to be
the one whom all grudge
I cry for no reason
I don't know why
My emotions, my feelings
there is no shy
Friends and family
laugh and joke
as far as being human
My tears spoke
(This is a fictional poem)
My seventeen year old son has been getting his ### kicked.
When I learned who is whooping him, I felt sick.
It's a six year old girl who is giving him his beatings.
My son is a wimp and he allows these whoopings to keep repeating.
When I learned that my son is a coward, it made me mad.
He's a little ##### and I think that's bad.
That six year old girl beats him up and takes his lunch money.
Everybody laughs because they think it's funny.
This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen.
The time has come for me to intervene.
He's making himself look like a fool.
I'm going to take the crybaby out of that school.
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