Long For teens Poems
Long For teens Poems. Below are the most popular long For teens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long For teens poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m tired.
When I say that,
people ask me,
“How much sleep did you get?”
They tell me,
“Go to bed earlier then!”
I joke and say that I try,
or I lie and say about 6 hours.
But in reality,
I barely get 3,
if I’m lucky.
I’m physically tired,
but when I say “I’m tired”,
I don’t mean it in that way.
I mean I’m exhausted.
I don’t want to get up in the morning.
I want to sleep, but I can’t.
I have no motivation.
I have to fake my smile.
I have to hide my tears,
from the voices in my head.
I have to force myself to work,
so I don’t fail.
When people ask how I am doing,
I tell them “I’m fine!”
and give them the brightest smile I can muster.
I joke about my sadness,
as a way to cope.
I have no motivation.
I have no real happiness.
I play a part,
like my life is a show.
I put on a performance,
for the people to enjoy.
I play the dumb friend,
so I can keep being the “funny” one.
I smile at everyone, and treat everyone nicely,
so I can stay the people pleaser I have always been.
It’s tiring.
It’s ing exhausting.
I have no one to talk to.
I feel nothing.
I feel empty.
There is nothing in my heart.
I care so deeply,
but it hurts when I’m just used.
People like me because I’m kind,
but they don’t know how I really feel.
When someone likes me,
and I don’t reciprocate those feelings,
I pretend, and date them, so I don’t break their heart.
I know they may find out,
but I don’t want people hurt because of my actions.
I’ve hurt people though,
and I hold on to the guilt like a lifeline.
I take it out on myself.
As I drag the blade, and watch the red flow,
it feels so good, and it makes me forget,
for even just a moment,
the mental torment.
I’m so drained,
that I feel as though I’m just…
Numb.
Numb to the happiness.
Numb to the sadness.
Numb to the anger.
“Numb” to the pain.
I want to feel better,
but I don’t know how.
I have lost the one person,
who gave me the motivation.
I have no one.
I’m alone.
I write these poems,
to hopefully feel something.
Though it never works,
it’s the only thing I can do.
Only way I can talk,
only way I can let out the pain.
I need help,
to stop feeling this drained.
But I can’t get help,
and I never ask,
because I will always just be a burden
with my problems, and my thoughts.
I’ll always feel tired,
and nothing will ever change that,
no matter how hard I try.
MY AGE
My age is nothing but a number, nothing but a slumber that I can’t wake from, this is what I’ve done. I’ve looked around and found that the matter of the fact is life isn’t what it’s supposed to be for me.
The average teenager spends most of their lifetime looking at their phones and when it’s time to learn something new their minds have already grown. Absorbing every single thing that they are sold, having a twelve year old’s body and the mind of a twenty one year old.
Social media doesn’t help the situation, it only changes how the different problems are situated. It has stolen complete sentences and created abbreviations, shortcuts of a language used by my generation. You could be laughing out loud when in reality you’re crying, saying TBH to be honest when in actual fact you’re actually lying.
And to that you can’t say anything because if LIFE was abbreviated it would stand for Living In Fear of Everything.
This is what I go through, in addition the music industry has had a major breakthrough. It has managed to be more influential promoting sex, drugs and slurs that are racial. “Making money moves” is about dancing on a pole, “Smoke weed everyday” is the daily intake of dope and this is said all while mentioning the one African American slave term that we all know. My nig-...I can’t say it though. So why do you. You have no idea who that affects. Sometimes we need to learn to be more politically correct.
They say that euphoria is just around the corner, behind the school building in a midst of vape. These are the lies they create, saying everything is ok. Just inhale it once and you’ll be done. I’m sorry, you can call me a loner but don’t mistake me for a stoner. One shot, two shots, three shots, four, hard. Call me antisocial but I’ve never drank before and I’m not about to start.
Society is full of influences, temptations and choices. However people like me always end up being voiceless. They think we’re too young to have any serious issues, that’s just another excuse for not wanting to accept the truth. You choose to change the subject to something totally unrelated, “We don’t have many problems?” well isn’t that an understatement?
You say that it will change, you say it’s just a phase, you say it’s another page in my story, no, this stage, right here...
This is MY AGE!
Gazing up at the dark and grey sky,
While Sparkling drizzles adorn the earth,
Calmness filling up as time goes by,
And the drops trickle down the hearth.
I settled down to cherish the serene blues,
Engaged deeply in its scenic imagery,
Which brings back the echoes and views,
Of my tender and dreamy childhood memory.
Several scenes vividly playing through my mind,
And various conversations echoing inside,
Leaving me restless with a whole new find,
Urging me desperately to travel back and confide.
If only I could go back in time,
Yearning to meet my younger self once more,
For it's not a sinful fault or malicious crime,
I would teach her many things in store.
First, I would delicately take her in my embrace,
And softly stroke the strands of her hair,
Assuring her that she made it through the chase,
Not giving up even in her darkest despair.
I would shower her with a treasure of rewards,
For being kind and helpful to others around her,
Also telling her not to forget the regards,
And to be kind to herself despite any blur.
I would take her to mountains and rivers,
For they could make an inseparable bond together,
As they stand by her in the toughest quivers,
And would support and befriend her forever.
I would describe to her the profound joy,
Of achieving her precious visions and dreams,
The deepest connections woven in her heart's ploy,
While reaching for those priceless fantasies.
I would prepare her to face the worst,
While trying to be brave and consistent,
Throughout her valuable self-exploration quest,
And would teach her to be strong and confident.
I would teach her the essence of euphoria,
In every small and tender delight,
From the warmth of those close to her aura,
That would ease her pain and make things right.
At times when people would disown her,
Judging her efforts and attempts,
I would teach her to trust herself and persevere,
To move on and achieve her greatest triumphs.
When life seems tough with each passing second,
I would ask her to remember my guidance,
That would keep her going till the end,
Without too many regrets and hindrances.
If only I could go back in time,
Wishing to make her stronger than ever,
For it's not a sinful fault or malicious crime,
That would help her surpass her struggles forever.
(Translated from Akhtar Sheerani)
Your little messenger who used to convey your messages
Was then unaware of what you used to write on those pages
He could not understand the secrets that that letters hid
What exciting styles of love in those simple looking words hid!
He just did not know what was hid in those blue envelopes
What a young girl meant by sending them to a boy? Her hopes?
But, I usually used to ponder on, in those times
That why his childhood thought on this love story's climax climbs?
Though he was too little, would not he think about it in heart
What his sister might have written in her letter with that art?
And why she writes letters to the same boy repeatedly?
It's okay if she writes sometimes, but why repeatedly?
Why now does she love her brother more than ever before?
She hands over envelope and promises to love more!
Why his sister is so benevolent to that stranger?
And if she's, why she hides from every family member?
His distrust is also supported by this evidence
Why "No one should know about this letter," was her advice?
He might think in his little mind, from where comes this young stranger?
The same as his sister sends, he also brings a letter
Why he cannot come to their home like other relatives?
When he asks about him, no satisfying answer he gives
Brings beautiful toys for him, gives and smiles; usually
With kindness, on his back he gently slaps; usually
These thoughts of your messenger used to titilate my heart
And with their childish innocence, made smile my feelings smart
Remembrance was not limited to only you those days
Imaginations also remember him, I amaze!
But today, I saw the beautiful symbol in that way
That I bowed my head to prostrate on astonishment's clay!
I met your little messenger as a young boy once again
Changes occurring around me in the world left me half-slain
The zeal of your love sleeping in my heart, woke once again
This Laila returned to her litter breaking moments' chain
I felt blushed on looking in the eyes of your messenger
But, a naughty light of past sparkled in his eyes' scavenger
This sparkle was a cause of astonishment, recalling past tale
That the secret of your first love could be seen in this veil!
March 14, 2022
In the vast domain where currencies converse,
Fear and courage in the Forex universe.
It's more than a gamble, a financial ballet,
Diverse perspectives in the trading array.
Risk management, the wise trader's guide,
Navigating currents, where fortunes reside.
A dance with volatility, charts unfold,
In this market tale, stories untold.
Autotrading robots join the scene,
Executing trades with algorithms keen.
Yet amidst automation's calculated might,
Human insight still steers the night.
Institutions play a role profound,
In the Forex orchestra, where echoes resound.
Their moves, a ripple in the market sea,
Shaping the currency symphony.
Bigger whales, guardians of vast wealth,
In charge of exchanges, controlling the health.
Platform prices dance to their sway,
In this financial theater, night and day.
The market, a canvas of highs and lows,
Where fortune's river in complexity flows.
Yet amidst the chaos, a mantra remains,
Risk management, reigning over gains.
The Forex tale, a narrative complex,
A blend of skill, luck, and market reflex.
In the midst of uncertainty, traders persist,
Navigating the currents, in the market's twist.
In the vast domain where currencies converse,Fear and courage in the Forex universe.It's more than a gamble, a financial ballet,Diverse perspectives in the trading array.Risk management, the wise trader's guide,Navigating currents, where fortunes reside.A dance with volatility, charts unfold,In this market tale, stories untold.Autotrading robots join the scene,Executing trades with algorithms keen.Yet amidst automation's calculated might,Human insight still steers the night.Institutions play a role profound,In the Forex orchestra, where echoes resound.Their moves, a ripple in the market sea,Shaping the currency symphony.Bigger whales, guardians of vast wealth,In charge of exchanges, controlling the health.Platform prices dance to their sway,In this financial theater, night and day.The market, a canvas of highs and lows,Where fortune's river in complexity flows.Yet amidst the chaos, a mantra remains,Risk management, reigning over gains.The Forex tale, a narrative complex,A blend of skill, luck, and market reflex.In the midst of uncertainty, traders persist,Navigating the currents, in the market's twist.
do you find that anywhere else?
undeserving love and care,
right from when you were born,
to the day you can talk back at them.
yes, your parents' decisions can be a little warped,
they may get your hopes up, only to say no,
but they spent those precious years of their lives,
for growing you up,
can' t you ignore your musings,
when it comes to caring for them?
always remember, that their words can seem cruel,
but never their intentions,
they may tell you to just go away,
but if you do, they wouldn't know what to say,
for they gave birth to you, baby,
they will never let you be lonely.
working all day and night,
they can get tired, too.
overlook their hurtful words,
as only with them you'll find utmost comfort.
imagine the day they held you in their hands,
for the first time they felt that way,
they had created a new life,
whom they wanted to be perfect in every way.
now, they scold you when they think you're on the wrong path,
for they thought you were flawless.
and their love is meant to give you freedom,
not tie you back.
they can get stressed and tired,
and hurt you unknowingly,
baby, don't make a big deal out of that,
you won't find their love,
at any other place.
they created you and accepted you with all your flaws,
and decided to make you better,
but when they show you their bad or a weaker side,
it's your job to not make them feel worse,
for they gave birth to you darling,
be a little unfair to yourself,
when it comes to loving them.
give them gifts or even a hundred cards,
but what makes them smile is your efforts,
to make them feel like the best parents in the world.
forget your desires and dreams when they need your help,
blur that ego the world throws at you,
if your pride comes in the way while talking to them,
they don't deserve your anger and frustration,
for they have given you all their dedication.
make them feel like they're the luckiest,
even if they seem a bit ignorant sometimes,
they haven't known you all their lives,
but you have,
they're allowed to shout at you,
you're not.
you need to swallow that false pride,
and be a little unfair to yourself at times,
when it comes to loving them.
They told him, “Boys don’t cry or feel,”
“Stand tall, be hard, and never kneel.”
So he learned young to wear a mask,
To fake the strength they dared to ask.
He bit his tongue, he clenched his jaw,
Afraid to show a single flaw.
And every tear he held inside
Just made him hollow, made him hide.
They praised him when he played it cool,
When he was quiet, cold, and cruel.
“Be tough,” they said. “Don’t act too soft.”
So he locked his kindness in the loft.
Each dream he had, each word, each spark,
Was buried deep beneath the dark.
He learned to smile without a soul,
To chase the goal, not be the goal.
He feared he'd never be enough
Not strong, not fast, not hard, not tough.
He questioned every step he made,
Afraid he was always to be brave.
At night, he'd lie there, wide awake,
The silence louder than the ache.
He'd count the flaws they couldn’t see,
And wonder, Is there more to me?
He laughed with friends, he played the part,
But shame kept growing in his heart.
He acted like he didn’t care,
But choked on ghosts that weren’t there.
And deep inside, a voice would speak
A whisper far too small, too weak:
What if you could just let go?
What if the world won’t hate you so?
But that voice got drowned in “Man up, kid,”
And “Real men never feel, they rid.”
So he became a walking war,
Of who he is and what's ignored.
He wanted space, but not to fight
He wanted peace, not proof of might.
He wanted someone just to say,
“You’re still a man if you’re not okay.”
But no one came. They never do.
So he became the silence too.
He locked his truth in rusted chains
And told himself, This is the game.
But now and then, he dares to dream,
Of what it means to break the scheme.
To speak his name, to shed the lie,
To lift his gaze and touch the sky.
To cry and not feel shame or fear,
To say, “I hurt,” and still be here.
To build a life not built on pain
To walk through fire, and not in chains.
He’s not there yet but he still tries.
Each breath a war, each step defies.
The boy they tried so hard to break
Is learning now
He gets to take.
Not just the blame, the weight, the fall
But love, and voice, and dreams,
and all
Something in my heart that matters;
I hear those the voices of the children chatter;
often I seem so guarded;
That those voices are ignored and disguared;
Blossoming are those tender starts;
For they too have beating hearts;
often I have empathy;
For those every children thought they're not apart of me;
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
yet instilled, we are still
We Are the Villagers and every, every, every child every child
all those little children and the teens
We are the villagers and every child belongs to us
(belong to us all)
==============
Every man, every woman should co parent someone else children/child
For it will take everyone one accord to keep the children from running wild/wild;
often they seem so guarded;
That those voices are ignored and disguarded;
tender bones, muscles and minds growing;
For they so think that only their intellect is the only think knowing;
often I have empathy;
For those every children thought they're not apart of me;
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
yet instilled, we are still
let us all be on one accord and everyone together
Raise those precious children as unto the Lord
Telling them in the way they should go
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
yet instilled, we are still
We Are the Villagers and every, every, every child every child
all those little children and the teens
We are the villagers and every child belongs to us
(belong to us all)
train up a child in thee way he/should go
let us all
train up a child in the way the Holy way he/she should go
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
We are
We are O' Lord we're still
yet instilled, we are still
We Are the Villagers and every, every, every child every child
all those little children and the teens
We are the villagers and every child belongs to us
We are the villagers
2/16/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
"from future anthology -Where Are the Villagers"
I see you got expensive shoes,
But you couldn't pay someone to screw you.
You walk around all day thinking you're hot as fondu.
Yeah, you got cheese,
And you think that makes you an OG.
Well, let us just see.
Yeah, we'll put that to the test.
You think that you're the best,
But you ain't got enough to put together a mess
Of words to make me feel less
like a man. When I'm done, you're gonna guess
At where you went wrong
Because this is a fighting song.
This verse ain't short, it's long
Because I'm going to rip you apart like I did your mom
Last night with my massive...
I'm blasting through this battle.
I'm amassing nukes.
I'm everlasting, dude.
You ain't got what it takes to be passing, fool.
I'm a master, you
Are just a massive douche.
I'm gassing you.
You ain't gonna be able to pick it up before I come after you.
You'll feel like half a dude.
I've got a magic spool
Of yarn that keeps flowing
Like my words to make you realize I'm glowing
with power.
This is my hour.
I'm going to shower
You with disses like my granny waters a flower.
It's just gonna keep coming.
I'm running through and busting you
Like I'm cutting you and bussing through
I'm gonna be slapping you silly.
This ain't no willy nilly, speaking like a hill-billy.
"I ain't got nuttin 'a say"
What's wrong with your brain
You should have known it was a mistake
To go up against someone as messed up and insane
As me.
I'm king of the ring.
Your girl was a one night thing.
Just a quick fling.
Almost done now,
But before I dip I'm going to go to town
On you so that you make sure to stay off my ground.
Yeah, I'm going to make you bow down
With this final roast.
I don't mean to boast,
But you can't bring enough heat to toast
Me, let alone host
these competitions. But don't give it to me.
Once I'm done with the beat,
You better know I'm gone like a ghost.
I'm on the Friends with Benefits level with your sister.
Your cousin calls me her mister.
Yo auntie wants me to fist her.
And now your bestie told me she got blisters.
I told you I was gonna make you wish ya
Had never stepped to me.
I'm the best, ya see.
This battle had cost you and the next ain't free.
We will read like our lives depended on it
Because to many of us, we assumed it did
And then we will pass, or fail or sit on the fence
Regardless, we will graduate
What happens next?
We'll trudge home, the bitter sweetness of it all clawing at our hearts
Many of us will jump or scream or cry or all of the above
And it will take a while before we finish the next phase of education
It will take a while before we sort ourselves out
There will be loud times
Times of lively bodies, with tranquillity only being a distant memory
Times of 9 to 5s creating a storm in our minds to match our bodies
And we may not be able to explain
Explain the storms we feel
We will claw at our hearts and heads
Trying to rearrange the pieces
Trying to make it all make sense
And it will take a long time
At many points we may feel we finally got it
The job, the house, the dreams
But that is when we will realize we are changing
When we begin to speak a little louder and walk a little prouder
We may not initially understand just how fast we are growing
Until the world falls silent
And we are left at peace with ourselves, God
And whatever rags we dragged along the way
Until we begin to accept the things we used to run away from
And reject those we held so close
We will have many bandages and scars
Making us look like we are newly wounded
When in reality, our wounds are just beginning to heal
Until we are not afraid to fall short
Just as much as we are not afraid to succeed
Accepting every part and fibre or our being
That we were once told to despise or be ashamed of
Until we gradually fall into the grace of growing older
When we try to piece our lives together like a giant puzzle
Reminiscing the good and the bad
Rehearsing the tales we will tell our children and grand children
Until many many years later, our bodies sink into the ground
Just the same way so many more will
And all that is left is the shadow of the life we lived
And the invaluable footsteps we left in the sands of time
That's when everything will all make sense
The beginning, the journey, the destination