Long Apologising Poems
Long Apologising Poems. Below are the most popular long Apologising by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apologising poems by poem length and keyword.
You cried about your father
but you’re just like him—
same poison in your mouth,
same violence dressed up as love.
You wore your trauma like an apology
before I even knew what I was apologising for.
Made me hold your broken pieces
while you broke me with the same hands.
I used to think monsters looked monstrous.
I didn’t know they could smile softly,
kiss your forehead,
ask if you’re okay
while teaching your body how to leave itself.
You watched me freeze
and called it permission.
Watched me disappear inch by inch
and still wanted more.
There are nights I still feel you
like smoke trapped in my lungs,
like fingerprints beneath my skin
I cannot claw out no matter how hard I try.
And you—
you get to walk around untouched,
telling stories where you are wounded,
where you are misunderstood,
where your childhood explains
the blood on your hands.
But hurt people do not get to hurt people
and call themselves helpless.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
That is the part that keeps me awake.
The way you paused long enough
to hear me go quiet.
The way you looked at me after,
not ashamed—
just satisfied that I stayed.
I hope one day
your reflection starts speaking back.
I hope it sounds like every person
you ever made afraid.
I hope your father’s face
stares at you from the mirror
until you finally understand
what you became.
Because I carried your violence
like it was my fault for far too long.
I buried myself alive
just to survive your version of love.
But listen to me now—
I am done carrying the shame
of what you chose to do.
You do not get to haunt me forever.
I survived you.
And that should terrify you most of all.
Tonight she packed her bags and left
I cant express the pain I feel
It's too heavy on my chest
This is not how I planned it
Not how I pictured it out in my head
I tried to explain myself to you
But your mind was already set
I feel so empty I feel so dead
I'd do anything to have you back in my bed
The silence is loud the sheets are cold
Ive been calling you for hours
I've got no one here to hold
I dont know what I'm apologising for
Cuz I've been trying my best
But everything seems to offend you
And I'm like what the heck
I wish I could go back in time one week to right my wrongs
My heart is broken into a million pieces without you I'm no one
They say '"love is patient, love is kind"
But what about the love that leaves bruises behind
The love that whispers sweet nothings by day
But turns into thunder when you disobey
The love that says "I didn't mean it"
Yet, the walls still remember every scream in it
See, love ain't supposed to taste like fear
Like holding your breath when he draws near
Like stepping on glass just to keep the peace
Like praying that this time the rage will cease
Like covering the scars with long sleeves and lies
Telling the world, "I'm fine", while your soul slowly dies
But ain't love supposed to heal, not harm?
Ain't love supposed to be open arms?
Not fists, not threats, not broken dreams
Not drowning in silence, too scared to scream
Not apologising for the tears that fall
Not shrinking yourself just to survive it all
So tonight, I speak for the ones still trapped
For the voices silenced, the hearts collapsed
For the ones who forgot how freedom feels
For the ones who mistake control for something real
For the ones who believe they deserve this fate
Let me tell now that it's never too late
Because love ain't supposed to break,
Ain't supposed to bruise,
Ain't supposed to make you feel like you lose
Yourself, your worth, or your right to be free
Love ain't pain, and pain ain't he.
So if you're reading, if this is your book
Know you are worthy, know you are strong.
One step forward, one breath, one day,
And soon, love will no longer be the reason to stay.
My messed-up mind has always been messy,
A hundred voices talking at once about anything and everything:
The Parsi, the Persian, perhaps the weather,
Or evergreen jakkalsbessies.
Clarity and clear thinking weren't happening;
Chaos and confusion were rife
In a mind so messy.
A hurricane of ideas, but no focus to execute them,
A whirlwind of thoughts, but unable to prioritise them,
Reams and reams of paper filled with to-do lists,
Yet no executive function to begin them.
Trying to navigate life this way was exhausting.
It affected everyone and everything around me;
Doing anything became daunting,
And all I could do was keep apologising
As I tried to navigate this labyrinth called life.
Without the necessary tools for the journey—
No map, no compass, no GPS to guide me.
This was my mind, my life, until I turned thirty-three.
Then a miracle was sent to me:
A doctor, and a diagnosis of ADHD.
In finding and understanding the truth,
I gained clarity through the static.
It was like finding a lighthouse in the fog,
A safe haven, symbolic of everything I had been seeking.
Things soon changed.
From that moment on, I became pragmatic.
I could see the path through the thicket.
With the right help, I started seeing clearly;
I started excelling,
Even when everything around me felt noisy,
Chaotic, and overwhelming.
And although my thoughts still sometimes feel scattered,
Or full of static,
Moments of exceptional focus,
Creativity, and insight still emerge,
Though often sporadic.
So although my mind is often full of static,
I can find clarity through it.
It feels like magic.
I've found a way to seek clarity
Without removing the static;
It emerges through it,
Like a signal through the noise,
Though occasionally there's still interference.
But a messy mind will never be completely mess-free.
There will always be some clutter to tidy up.
Yet I've learned to live with it,
And no longer mistake my differences
For something that needs fixing.
Im still yet to hyper focused on OCD. Where cleanliness is a main priority.
Jody took an explicit anger rage
In London, at the 2012 Paralympics,
Which everyone knew about, did rage,
Threw his water bottles about, tactics.
He wanted the technical delegate, ICU,
To call the error a sad technical fault,
When Jody stopped immediately, did do,
The gun fired - he said the gates did bolt.
Jody was born on 14 October in 1978,
In England, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire,
With a deformed foot which did await,
Amputation when he was three, aspire.
His parents met others who took part,
In disability swimming with their kid,
So when Jody tried it he had an art,
With the water and in contests did bid.
His local King’s Lynn club encouraged,
Him to become what he could in time be,
And at the Worlds in ’94, he garbaged,
His PB by 4 seconds to gain credibility.
But today he says that he definitely was,
“Never a naturally gifted swimmer.
I just don’t have the build, [but the boss
Is] weights and core strength, [glimmer].“
He won three gold medals, two bronze,
At the Paralympics in 1996 and 2004,
But in 2006 because of this bronze,
He changed to cycling’s ever open door.
He’s in the C4 category and in Beijing,
In 2008, he rode a quick time of 1.5466,
For the 1km time trial to proudly bring,
The gold into the ranks for GBs licks.
Then there was that awful tantrum scene,
At the London games, but he won bronze,
Nonetheless, for the 4km pursuit sheen,
Apologising to the crowd for his donze.
He did compete in the Commonwealths,
In 2014 in Glasgow, and there finished fifth,
But in that same year at the World sheaths,
He got his ninth world title, a WR of pith.
And in Rio 2016 he struck pure gold,
At that event which so badly deluded him,
Four years prior in the 1k time trial hold,
And achieved a PB, much fame to win.
Apologising all the time is often an after-effect of trauma; a self-preservation technique survivors may think they still need to utilise in order to protect themselves.
Everyone is healing from something. Let's try to be kind to one another.
Blessings.
I'm sorry
By Michelle Morris
11/12/2022
"I'm sorry" is something people often say
Whether they are really sorry or not
But once in a while you'll meet someone
Who says "I'm sorry" an awful lot
You might think them stupid
You might think them lame
You might think they're silly
Or that they're playing some game
But, if you do some research
Or if you choose to care
You might realise they've been abused
Deeply and irrevocably for years
Their childhood trauma lingers
Their abuse from too many years
Their spouse played on their feelings
And gaslit them with emotional fears
They are genuinely sorry
They really don't mean to keep saying it
They're so used to placating abusers
That it becomes second nature
So, if you meet a sweet person
Who says "I'm sorry" all the time
Please try to be patient and gentle
Consider compassion and being nice
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Remember Me
You looked at me like I was something to be folded, made smaller, pressed into the corners where my voice couldn't reach.
You counted every mistake like they were proof, stacked them high enough to build a prison and called it love, called it discipline, called it "for your own good."
I called it surviving.
Remember me.
Remember the child who measured footsteps before entering a room, who learned that silence could be safer than speaking, who carried the weight of someone else's storms on shoulders that were still growing.
Remember me.
You said I was too much. Too loud. Too sensitive. Too weak. Too broken. Too impossible to love.
So I became an expert at disappearing, at apologising for taking up space, at shrinking until I almost believed I was as small as you needed me to be.
Remember me.
Remember the nights I stitched myself together with borrowed hope, the mornings I smiled with a heart full of cracks, the days I walked into the world pretending bruises don't always live on skin.
Remember me.
Because here's the part you never saw.
Every word you threw became another stone, and I built something with them.
A spine.
Every door you slammed taught me how to open my own.
Every time you tried to convince me I was worthless,
I found another reason to keep breathing.
Remember me.
Not as the frightened shadow standing in your doorway.
Not as the quiet voice waiting for permission.
Remember me as the wildfire you mistook for ash.
Remember me when I laugh too loudly to hear your echo.
Remember me when I stand tall enough to cast my own shadow.
Remember me when kindness lives where fear once slept.
Remember me because I remembered myself.
And that, more than anything, is the ending you never thought I'd write.
So if my name ever crosses your mind, don't remember the child you thought you could break.
Remember the person who survived you, grew anyway, and learned that being small was never who I was.
Remember me.
Remember me.
Remember me.
You hit me to control me.
You hit where the bruises don't show.
You psychologically damage me, bend and distort my own mind.
You treat me like I'm an animal - like I'm the lowest kind of life.
I'm trapped in a world of no exits.
The world that you love is to me a living hell.
You buy a house and I'm your prisoner. You the guard and me in my cell.
You can now do what you want to me.
I loved you once long ago. I have suffered for years with your cruelty and never let anyone know.
I hate everything about you but to live I cannot let you know.
There's one thing I wanted to tell you, there's one thing I want you to know...
You should not have turned to our baby. My daughter is now lost for good. You broke her and subjected her to cruelty and that she will never be rid of, it will never be understood.
You should not have gone near my baby. I'm not apologising to you anymore. You push and push but this time you have pushed too far.
The policeman asks me why did I do it as they bring in the body bag.
He should not have gone near my baby. We are not his prisoners anymore.
The bars of my self made prison tremble
My world begins to shake
Nothing is as it seems
The cracks in the cage grow larger
I start to sink
Enveloped by the darkness
The light begins to dim
The darkness welcomes me like an old friend
I dont fight it anymore
I allow the darkness to wash over me
To consume me
To swallow me up
How can you extinguish that which did not exist
My fight had been beaten from me long ago
My world has been blown to bits so often its barely whole itself
The world cannot save me now
Nobody can save me
Time for everyone to turn a blind eye
To pretend that your coping and doing well
Pretend,
their good at that
Ignoring what’s right in front of them
Conceal it
Cover it up
Brush over the imperfections
Bruises fade right?
The world will go on with or without you
I hold no significance In this place iv wandered aimlessly for 30 years
Down trodden and back stepping
Apologising for things that weren’t my fault
Fighting battles that weren’t my own
Setting up home in these cages all my life
Just swapping one prison for another
This one il not escape
I am my own prison
My mind is dark
My thoughts are all consuming and scary
There’s no way out
Nothing silences the evil
Nothing quietens the fear
How do you erase the darkest parts of you?
My messed-up mind has always been messy,
A hundred voices talking at once about anything and everything:
The Parsi, the Persian, perhaps the weather,
Or evergreen jakkalsbessies.
Clarity and clear thinking weren't happening;
Chaos and confusion were rife
In a mind so messy.
A hurricane of ideas, but no focus to execute them,
A whirlwind of thoughts, but unable to prioritise them,
Reams and reams of paper filled with to-do lists,
Yet no executive function to begin them.
Trying to navigate life this way was exhausting.
It affected everyone and everything around me;
Doing anything became daunting,
And all I could do was keep apologising
As I tried to navigate this labyrinth called life.
Without the necessary tools for the journey—
No map, no compass, no GPS to guide me.
This was my mind, my life, until I turned thirty-three.
Then a miracle was sent to me:
A doctor, and a diagnosis of ADHD.
In finding and understanding the truth,
I gained clarity through the static.
It was like finding a lighthouse in the fog,
A safe haven, symbolic of everything I had been seeking.
Things soon changed.
From that moment on, I became pragmatic.
I could see the path through the thicket.
With the right help, I started seeing clearly;
I started excelling,
Even when everything around me felt noisy,
Chaotic, and overwhelming.
And although my thoughts still sometimes feel scattered,
Or full of static,
Moments of exceptional focus,
Creativity, and insight still emerge,
Though often sporadic.
So although my mind is often full of static,
I can find clarity through it.
It feels like magic.
I've found a way to seek clarity
Without removing the static;
It emerges through it,
Like a signal through the noise,
Though occasionally there's still interference.
But a messy mind will never be completely mess-free.
There will always be some clutter to tidy up.
Yet I've learned to live with it,
And no longer mistake my differences
For something that needs fixing.
Im still yet to hyper focused on OCD. Where cleanliness is a main priority.