Hurt Poems | Examples of Hurt Poetry

I think I'm getting better I think she noticed me I think I'm finally feeling I think I'm finally free I think of the damnation I think she's saved me from I think she fixed my soul I think that she's the one I think all this is true I know deep down it's not I think I'm doomed, you see I feel not but distraught....

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You said you hated liars But you’ve always lied to me You despised being deceived and used How ironic, you’ve done worse ...

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I loved you with both hands broken, offered you oceans cupped in cracked palms, watched it leak, leak, leak, through fingers too battered to hold a tide. I made myself a museum of becoming, stitched old prayers into the walls, hung portraits of the selves I killed to be loved, polished my ribs until they gleamed like pearls, sewed silk into my voice, laced...

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Distance, even for a short while, still is Whether it’s a river or a stream, you still need a bridge But bridges burn And even when they don’t They weather They rot They fall apart so slowly You don’t notice until the floorboards have collapsed beneath you And you’re left with nothing Just the remnants of the bond you thought would last forever Clutched to...

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Shines behind your vile eyes, Your silver lips and tongue, Halitosis, you can't hide, The poison dribble dripping from, Twice I won't be blamed, The shame is mine for falling once, The lies begin to smell the same, Perfume of rose and skunk....

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song of the mattress she slept, wrinkled and small on satin sheets, a band-aide covering her mattress, knees tucked tightly beneath her chin and legs pressed against her breasts as if waiting for a gigantic splash when she hit the water motionless, she dreamed of burgundy and peaches from georgia and hoped to drive...

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The subtle thread which mends a laceration is woven through fresh, tender flesh to bind disreconciled horizons, disentwined by words sharper than the knives of damnation. Then, even once that painful separation is closed, there’s still so much left to attend to,—wash the wound, put bandages, amend echoes saddled with righteous indignation. A stitch is but the means of tying tight the gasping...

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The wound is fresh The pain so raw Seems like it will never heal As I cling to the thought Of what might have been As healing starts Panic replaces pain Scrambling to pick the scab To feel the blood flow The wound is fresh again It keeps trying to heal But I'm afraid to forget To let go of the hurt I need it...

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Nothing But A Number! Don’t speak of sorrow, don’t pretend.. You were no lover, not a friend. I gave you chances through every tear.. You traded love for someone near. You lied with ease, you cheated more.. While I stood aching at your door. Tanya in Denmark, then Laura’s bed.. You stitched your guilt where I bled. You spun your tales and smiled wide.. While...

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I look in the mirror, but don’t recognize, The person I see, with unfamiliar eyes. I want to shed the skin I wore, Leave behind the past, forevermore. The echoes of who I used to be, Feel distant now, they don’t belong to me. I crave the change, the clean slate, To leave behind what sealed my fate. No more the girl who...

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L-ord O-f Vortex E-motions...

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Death, death, Oh! Old Death Old death makes everybody dry and sad Death even makes kings who are grumpy and mad Absolutely powerless, helpless and useless Death makes us mute, motionless, lifeless and deaf In the darkest, hottest part of the crater And deep within the brightest cell or cache of the chamber Where too much light Blinds the retinas and this is...

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Author Dana Redricks April 25, 2025 The questions that flood my mind. Who am I, what is my purpose, and where do I belong? I know I can't make it on my own. Just trying to figure it all out, sometimes I just want to scream and shout. Trying to let you know me when I don't...

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Attempt, attempt, attempt, I try, I do, but find success a frightful,fretful sort of creature.—.landing always just so short for you,—my victories?: far less than few. From void to verse then verse now void,—but you reject my voice,else’y*u[ / , u ]d*stort it, and to good will ill intent impart; My inspiration, skewered by your view, lies fallow in your lap.—Tell, what’s...

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My heart is bound with twin-distressed grommets But every night I look up at the sky Waiting for a comet. My eyes fixate and focus before they leak like faucets And I glance up, I zealously try To spot it, the elusive comet. My fate seems tangled in spider webs Where I'm the fruit fly awaiting demise The anxiety flows, the panic...

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