Heavier Poems - Poems about Heavier

...Every time I try to make things right, Something breaks or slips from sight. I hold on tight, but still it’s gone — Just like the end of a breakup song. Deadlines chase me through the night, R......

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...Under the somber cloak of twilight, where shadows whisper secrets of the unknown, I wander through the corridors of thoughts, my mind a vast ocean, uncharted by memories and dreams, Reflecting on t......

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...A thin line splits good from evil between grace and the disgrace between being the apple of God's eye or ab ally of the devil. It’s not etched in stones or scrolls but marked in choices we mak......

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... On that day, the heavens split in silence, and from the void descended a clock, not of metal, not of clay, but of time’s very flesh, beating between us like a heart slowly fading. I looked......

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...War isn’t new. Our world has been bleeding for centuries, crimson rivers running beneath the cities we call beautiful, masked by glass towers and neon lights. They build malls on buried bones, school......

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...In the silence of the night, when stars weave their silver webs across the deep sky, my thoughts flow like a river of light, carrying with them echoes of memories, words that were once just grains ......

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...To carry more than I’ve shown, things I never told about, I still somehow carry the cost of your long forgotten chaos. I stood strong with a heavy heart. I stayed brave because I ought to. Th......

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...Natives interrupted Guns pointed to their chests Blown away like beautiful dandelions Into that sweltering sun Americans lollygag In their newly claimed land Under that grand old flag Slav......

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...Memories can feel like bodily extensions Memories can haunt the very oxygen I breath Memories carried around like a boat anchor Memories that felt heavier than the present Memories that gripped ......

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...Here rests the realm of the thorn-tongued truth ~ a mortal mirage of doomed pentacles, where forks and kettles speak the language of witchery, the dialects of the diabolical, listening as ......

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...My head has always been made of glass, and inside it lives a faint idea of who I am. She used to be a silhouette, but even then she wasn’t very defined. In eighth grade, I believed that she liv......

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... "When yesterdays became devoid of compassion", you became the reflection in my mirror— the darkness that cast its shadows upon my walls, the screams that woke me in the dead of night. Reach......

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...It began with a bargain on a winter night, When the cupboards were bare And hope sat idle in the corners. He came with frost on his collar, A gentleman adorned in a burgundy suit Polished al......

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...I. The Hour of Approach The poem I was writing refused to end— it kept writing me. Blood didn't ink these lines— the ink bled me. Each stanza a hidden-hematoma across......

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...you were completely comfortable being miserable like pain was a roommate like the yelling was a lullaby like love was supposed to sting, and silence meant everything was fine he broke you in ch......

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