How should I tell them?
Tell them who I really am-
How I feel,
How I act.
Will they still love me?
Will they still care for me?
Will they be there for me?
Something I will never know.
Something lost out there.
Something I will probably never see.
That part of me is hidden.
Buried so deep,
other wounds are already piled
on top of it.
All these little flaws
That you see in my design,
Can you get rid of them
If they’re so easy to find?
I’m not perfect, but I’m horribly designed.
All these imperfections built within me
Only keep holding me back from
Being the best person that I can be.
I wonder if I can give you the keys
To control my thoughts and actions,
Create the perfect me that can please.
Maybe there’s some worth in that.
Reality keeps slipping through my fingers.
I can no longer see what matters to me.
It might be best for someone else to take over.
I’ve done nothing meaningful with these hands of mine.
The darkness where I can fade into calls me.
I could take one more step and be gone.
I don’t have to worry about how I was designed,
Because all the imperfections will disappear.
When I was younger
I wanted to be friends
with the monsters under my bed
Now I am terrified of these monsters
in my head
Breathing is second nature
I know that much to be true
but how these monsters choke up
when I look at you
I try to count sheep
to help me fall asleep
but when I dream
all I dream
is worshipping at your feet
You have everything to me
perfect hair, perfect smile
when they say
walk a mile
it truly is a trial
because
for all I can see
you have everything to me
So, I can try to be the friend
to these monsters in my head
but I know in the end
these monsters are just like me
these monsters don't like me
She is branded with impurity
By eighty percent of the community,
Just because she made mistakes like you and me.
Criticized heavily, right down to the core
—The constant fuel to her insecurity.
She uses random acts of kindness,
Cultivating his blindness,
So he cannot see his worth.
He chases her to the ends of his earth,
Instead of putting in the work,
And bringing his visions to life.
In a world with less judging,
More empathizing and genuine hugging,
Women would have less insecurity,
And seek less validation.
Men would protect their peace of mind,
Letting go of ego boosters, leaving the past behind.
I'm not pretty enough to be praised,
But not ugly enough to be disgraced.
Not special enough to stand apart,
But not ordinary enough to lose my heart.
I see the likes stack on my screen,
And wonder what they really mean.
Do they see me, or just the light?
The angle, the pose, the filter right?
I look slim in every frame,
But what if that's not really my shape?
What if the breath I held so tight
Is the only reason I look alright?
What if the smile they all adore
Is hiding what I'm looking for?
What if the compliments I save
Were meant for a version that I gave?
Not fake enough to be a lie,
Not real enough to not ask why.
I stare at girls and think again,
Would I choose myself among them?
Not jealous enough to call it pain,
But not confident enough to stay the same.
Maybe I'm pretty, maybe I'm not,
Maybe beauty's a moving dot.
Maybe I'm loved, maybe I'm not,
Maybe I'm more than every thought.
But every mirror starts a trial,
And every picture lasts a while.
Maybe they're right,
Maybe they're not.
Maybe I'm everything
I say I'm not.
Maybe or maybe not,
Maybe that's the hardest part.
I love those who sit in my silence
Silence I seem to carry with me
It crowds around my shoulders and kneck
It stifles my words
I thought it would someday be filled
By promises to myself I can’t uphold
Living vicariously through
Those who march forward
Without choking on their words
I'll keep my eyes fixed on you
My mind catching every word
Like a hovering shadow
That you only turn to
So your words can fall freely
Without thought of the listener
Some days I feel my own weight
It bears down on me
Whispering sneers of disappointment
The fogginess in my head of unspoken words
It fades their meaning
Nights driving alone
Small snowflakes collecting on my windshield
Muffled echoes from the day
Are suddenly lifted and cleared
By the warm glow of the porchlight
That was left on for me
It lights my way to the door
Remembering small things I said
Bringing me back
From webs of lies in my head
You lay your jacket over my shoulders
I one day hope to give others
The care you’ve given me
Is it because I'm black?
You and I - both know,
The answer to that -
Yes-
It is,
Because - people like you,
Exist
To be - racist
Is it because im black -
That you are so full of hatred,
Or - are you just sad, are you just mad that you,
Are not like me.
You claim that you are superior,
Yet act,
All -
Inferior
When it comes to your exterior,
You,
Pay to have our skin -
Despite your claims that it is unattractive -
That no one could be attracted,
To my darkness,
But that makes no sense -
But in your defence its a tan,
In my defence it’s an excuse
A
Defence mechanism,
Used - then abused,
To uphold white supremacy -
And the proximity,
That comes with it
You say it’s because im black,
But why is that?
Can you not handle the fact -
That, despite what you say,
Your actions don’t match -
The hate - you,
Spit at us -
Is the same hate you swallow -
To avoid the taste of your own insecurities
It’s not because i'm black,
It’s because you don’t get to be that
Sometimes loving you hurts me.
I’m asking for a miracle
I’m not even trying to make work.
I’ve been silent for way too long.
I wish you felt my feelings
so I wouldn’t have to name them.
I wish I could read your heart
so I’d know if I should reach or retreat.
I smile when I see your name on my screen,
and on the days you decide to ignore me,
everything comes crashing down.
Sometimes I wonder why I’m pulled in.
Why am I obsessed with someone
who doesn’t communicate clearly?
Do I choose people who are incomplete
because there’s still something missing in me?
I wish I could call you and talk all this out.
Can we be adults and have a conversation?
They say you’re stressed, but you’re still up.
You said you need time, but you’re outside.
I’m folding my cards with the wrong person.
Is it too late to withdraw from this?
I don’t know if I should keep playing
or leave the table and keep what I have.
Sometimes I think I put on the wrong body
Sometimes I think I put the body on wrong
Liars spend their days
touting insincerity
oozing insecurity
Do they stand a chance
when their tongues
no longer dance
Like a lone flower
in the silence of still air—
a graceful young girl,
modest in her quiet glow,
unseen by the insecure.
I need a break, a minute’s breath of space;
The furious tempo driving me along,
a fussy temper, fervent all day long
to strive, stress, toil, scramble to keep the pace—
—the pace of a spent poet keeping face;—
enough to numb a hand that once inked strong
words, and made paper sound loud as a gong.—
and what a base disgrace…to lose the chase.
How many spears did that old poet shake,
which time has flung away(, or swallowed whole,)
that today we marvel at his masterworks?
What thousand wonders hide behind the break
of history?, what secrets, grand or droll,
lay low and lost within his epoch’s lurks?
Instead of monsters under my bed
- they stare at my face in the mirror
At what point does a child become the direct descendant of a wound breed from insecurity.
A world that preaches love is this almighty being that comes to everybody.
The same world that writes the script for a judging mind yet screams to erase.
But what if I’m different?
Easy to like, but only under certain conditions.
But what if it’s me?
Easy to want, but hard to hold.
For who decides these monsters for me?
Why does it feel as if I’m choosing the monsters that crawl under my bed?
I don’t want them!
But I suppose you can never tell where the monsters will hide.
Don't make me yawn
Just pick
One color
It doesn't much matter anyway
What color
You pick
Any will do, aside from the original
Apples the fruit of life, use to grow all over the earth.
Now they have been killed and replaced to make the earth a place of cement.
The juicy and lovely apple, was free to eat for those that choose it as a treat.
Maybe they killed so many apple trees, to make us pay for them.
The animals and people now have to go without the apples for we cannot see them grow freely.
Making us all very hangry.
The world as we know it continues to change, and suits the rich and the ones with fame.
The food was free and use to grow for animals and people, now we must work and pay for things that were free, like the apples and many other kinds of food that use to be free.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.