Long In reality Poems
Long In reality Poems. Below are the most popular long In reality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In reality 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.
What is the difference between night and day... between darkness and light... Evil and good... Angel and Demon... How can we live among each other and survive.. hearing about hope.. trust.. honesty... and how can they live with Lust, despair, depression, agony, anger and such heartlessness...
You speak to me about this word called "Hope"..
Everyone has a chance to create their own lives.. to change the hand they were dealt
That there is something better out there
You just have to remind yourself of all the small happiness that happened to you over the years and it soon becomes greater than the despair..
You claim to be sadness.. to be depression..
In reality you just have moments of lowness...
Your world is surrounded with beautiful waving trees
A sunset that lights up the dawn sky
Somehow the ocean looks beautiful to you, the glistening of the sun upon the waves
You see happiness in everything that happens to you, you see something positive in all the things life gave you
But..
What if we do not see the same thing, what if I live in the darkness...
The deranged half of this world of which you cannot see..
What if everything you see, I see in complete blackness..
The sky is grey, the ocean is red... and the aura around my world is chained to a dark future..
How is it that we can live on the same planet.. but see two different views..
I can sense your light.. you can sense the darkness I hold within me.. All I see for you is a horrible ending.. Your hope.. is my dark secret
In my world I see you as the beggar.. the one who tells you good tales.. but can never prove them.. and keep asking for your attention.. they want you to believe them.. but yet you cannot see the sun in bright orange colors because in your world there is no sun .. there is only a moon...
Your beautiful day for me is like the desecration of a grave...
So I will ask you again...
What is the difference between night and day... between darkness and light... Evil and good... Angel and Demon... How can we live among each other and survive.. hearing about hope.. trust.. honesty... and how can they live with Lust, despair, depression, agony, anger and such heartlessness... ?
Does light.. somehow stabilize.. the darkness... ?
Can a Demon live without lusting for something pure?
How is it that the day can turn into night so quickly as if its not painful.. ?
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
It was as real a fear as any that one could encounter.
Fear is torment, and comes with the purpose to intimidate and eliminate. I have encountered the fear of punishment and fear of bodily harm. I have feared darkness where one is at a loss of his surroundings.
As a child I was terrified of polio shots administered once a year.
There are fears that come and go, and we learn to adjust and adapt. There are myriads of phobias and fears that threaten us all, but there is a fear I wish to share. It is a fear with which I struggled and have had to confront, conquer, and dispatch.
I fought for several years until I conquered and overcame 'the fear of failure'. This fear did not accompany me at birth as if I inherited it from ancestors. I created conditions and aspirations that painted pictures of accomplishments and achievements whereby I dared not to be anything less than the master of all my hopes and dreams. I could not accept the normal or the mundane. I believed that I would excel no matter what. However, I came to realize that I was being captured and imprisoned by my own mind set. I was becoming obsessed and driven to avoid what I perceived as an unacceptable life, and thereby becoming afraid of what might become a reality. Thus the 'fear of failure' in reality reduces one's abilities and capabilities.
When I released myself from the drip of such a fear, I became free to let go and let me be the best me that I could be without trying to please and convince me as well as others of how wonderful I could be. It was a fear from which no one else could emancipate me. God's wisdom and grace granted me the sweet freedom from the fear of failure.
09132017 PS Contest, Fear 2, Debbi Guzzie
When you told me you didn't love me
I didn't know what to do
I didn't know how to react
Because I remember what it felt like
When I thought you wanted me
I remember when you took me
To what I thought was our first date
I remember smiles and laughs and midnight texts
A bright little light hidden under blankets
As I lay awake in bed waiting for your reply
It made me feel like a child again
Staying up late and doing something I shouldn't be
Doing something that I know would only end in trouble
I remember the first time you held my hand
I remember when I thought this
This is what love really is
I remember the exact moment I fell for you
When I thought you caught me
But in reality you were just letting me fall
Deeper and deeper and deeper
With no intentions of saving me
With no intentions of telling me no
Because you were attracted to me
You told me this
You showed me this
I remember the first time we
I want to say made love but that wasn't really it
So I remember the first time we had sex
It was something beautiful
Again I thought this, this is what love feels like.
I remember meeting your family
Your mother and father smiling and telling silly stories
Your brothers asking questions
As you cooked a meal for us all
That was my favorite memory
You started to take me on more
"Dates"
I remember red robin, Polaris, late night movies and cedar point
I remember when these started disappearing
When you stopped trying to cover up lust with love
I remember tangled bed sheets
And messy hair
I remember sleepy eyes
And a soft voice saying "you're beautiful"
I remember me believing you
Thinking that you meant it
I gave you my heart
Because I realized you actually did find me beautiful
But that was all you found
My beauty blinding your judgement
Thinking my love was lust
You thinking I wanted this too
Because there doesn't need to be any
Love in attraction
You can give away your body
Without the person wanting anything else
I don't blame you anymore
It was an easy mistake to make
I mean girls give sex to get love after all
And men give love to get sex
I remember the day you told me you didn't love me
I remember the day you told me I was beautiful
I remember the day I lost my ability to love anymore
Because I gave away my heart to a man who had no intentions of giving it back
6/14/2015
In this evening, I wear the perfect smile, and,
you’ll quake, in the wake of my guile
Cause I’m the best liar you’ll ever meet,
Because, In a way, I swear, I’d mean it
Not, to say that I believe it, but
The intention’s there all the same
This is my confession, my admission of guilt.
Because, it’s upon good intentions, that the road to hell is built
I’m always working toward my goals, and my dreams
But, in self observation, I'm beginning to question my means
As of late, been having a lot of trouble, maintaining the tension in the telegraph lines
And for that reason, the deserving will have no honorable mention
For these wires that run from ear to ear
have been in disrepair, for the best part of the last year
And, this is my apology, as well as, a desperate plea
Because, in reality, I’m in need, of someone that can save me,
Someone to be the monkey on my back
And one who possesses all that I lack
Someone who could, with words deify the drying of paint
And, since patience is a virtue, my girl will have to be a saint
Someone who bear with me, when I beg her to stay
and then push her away
Endearingly Awkward, is all I want to be
The martyr, with out the fee
But, the apprehension in me, doth decree
My title has the need for a higher degree
of precision, and simplicity
And, In fear’s wake, I’m brought to my knees
And, despite my hearts desperate plea,
I comply, and then cease to be,
Until, love breathes her life into me
I feel poison coursing through my logic
And capitulation that could be considered tragic
I’m growing weary, of this battle,
In which my ambitions are roped like cattle,
And slaughtered, just to end up filling the bowls and plates
Of, fear, my sworn enemy, the one I’ll never cease to hate
Considered jaded by some, and boring to most
I feel the part of the silhouette, or the ghost
But, in all honesty
I am, in a word, broken.
I don’t know, I cant even begin
To tell the difference between ecstasy and agony,
Or know what to say, when asked about my identity.
in the evening, behind this perfect smile, at my fork in the road,
contemplating left, or right, and carrying a hell of a load, .
I put faith in a coin toss,
Not knowing which led to love, and which to loss,
caught in clenched fist,
And slapped down on bare wrist,
for an instant, i wonder
if this Is reprobation?
Or some road, leading to my vindication?
My Sister when I was about 8 1/2, I am 38 now, passed away but before she did, she told
everyone this... "I am going to be Ok, and will be with God... I will get a new pair of lungs and
some wings to fly with Him in Heaven, and I will be His little princess..." On the day she
passed, in the midst of the dust floating in the room. Rays of light shown through that morning
right on her on her bed, covering her, and I truly believe that God came and picked her up
personally Himself that day, and carried her off to Heaven with Him...
Precious on her last litter had a kitten that looked, and I mean looked dead on herself... So
we named her Princes... She was the most crazy cat I have ever known... and had an air
about her that said to all... "Hey!" Look at me!" "I am a Princess" ... She was so very proud of
herself for this, but never neglected her Mother's way, and was never disloyal to the family...
She always loved to play with us and her Mother (Chasing her around the house, daring her,
and reminding her to play), because I believe this... She was just crazy about life... "Just
crazy about it, and as grateful as her mother, and my SIster," because though my Sister,
though she was very spirited about her condition. She still desired to live her life just like
another child her age would, and would carry this burden from time to time, as it would come
to the surface, and make her blue, the fact that in reality, she could not... So princes would
just fly around the house like a whirlwind, and would always come to land in someone's lap,
or arms or beside you in bed purring or at the foot of someone's bed at the end of the day,
and would awaken as lively and in a dead run, to do it all again the next day... We loved her
dearly too... because of her adoring for her life itself... and the energy that she put into
enjoying it... Because she too, had lost her little brother, a few hours after he was born...
She too reminds me of my Sister Tina, in this way... That life is sometimes a struggle, but is
always evolving and always comes back to itself in time, and is always turning full circle...
and is forever advancing towards all in gratitude... and exists and moves abundantly, within
itself and lives for this one passion...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3C7DECI0jU&feature=related
Am I a waiter or a warrior, a visionary, or wall watcher?
Am I a strategist or fighting activist?
Sometimes, I feel that I'm just a nesting dove.
Perhaps at any given season, I'm all the above.
If we care enough to share in the intimate places with
God, we must dare to breathe that great and rare air of God. .
Come with me to a world of questions and mysteries.
Allow me to muse my way into some unpleasant places;
Places of craving for the face of God but finding no trace.
I speak not of people wearing holy halos or holy Joes.
I'm talking about Ordinary Mary and Everyday John going about
Their routine lives with a longing desire for a God-centered life.
You may not concur; yours may be a different world,
Or perhaps you've never ventured into the murky waters
Of your soul as have I. Anyway, this place is real.
On occasions, my soul longs to see, to hear, to feel,
To touch and be touched, to sense and taste God
In unusual, yet Biblical ways. That longing, that deep
desire of which I speak is not always or should I say, is seldom
reciprocated. It could also be that I get distracted and fail to
recognize God's reply. Am I making sense so far, or am I stranded
On an island alone? Anyway, the sign I long to see is a 'no show',
And it seems that God hides himself from me, for my good of course.
It's when the voice, the sounds I expect to hear are not there or so faint
and distant as to not be useful. Or when God is silent, or so it seems. Or
when I do not feel Him or His Presence, and/or in fact, none of my sensory
faculties are in tune sufficiently to benefit. My best guess is that we are in "a trust only zone" where we feel at our lowest, but in reality, there is that side
of us being informed that we are experiencing our finest hour. I tell you, this
present muse was inspired by a conversation last night with close friends.
We concluded that we, whether dove or warrior, are always benefactors of his love because God is faithful, and in His time, he makes all things beautiful.
092720PSCtest, Completely Your Choice(33), Brian Strand
Contest entry11220, HM's and NA's October 2020, C. La France. 2P
Judged and NA on October 26, 2020 by Brian Strand
(Part 2 - please see Part 1 first thank you)
And those of us who feel just plain lost in today’s modern world
Believe me you are not alone
Might look at Dave’s life and think that it’s real, and legitimate
When it’s just a fake deal – none of this has just fallen in ‘Dave’s’ lap
Because he deserves it as he’s a ‘good lad’
But you don’t want to know this and it makes you feel even worse
Accusing others of being jealous and defending this ‘Dave’ first
So you massage your avatar in every way
Thinking it will pave your way
Save the day
Keep you out of real life’s harming ways
Because despite the visions of
Human contact on the Facebook adds
You never meet up with the lads,
Go bowling or hang out in the park
Because these days the world is just too dark
It’s not safe and too expensive to go out and have a lark
So you stay inside and become an online stud who gets lots of online ****
Who enjoys an open relationship?
But which in real life is just a lie
Because right now you are sat in a room, full of gloom
With your back to your wife
Atmosphere so tense you could cut it with a knife
As you massage your Facebook life
And now you cannot make it more plain
That she is just not good enough for the Facebook ‘you’
Who now believes he is a complete stud
But she’s lives in reality and not on line
Working hard, pays the bills, attends to the minutiae of real life
While you, 36 and unemployed, pines
And neither you, nor she, can ever measure up to the complete fantasy
Of the world of your Facebook Land
All Facebook has done is help you create a monster which has got out of hand
And you never did have that conversation, in real life, with your wife
That you have demoted her from your wife, to ‘f*ck buddy’
That’s just your online self massaging reality out of your life
Why communicate with your wife – it’s safer (to your online life)
To just cut her out – she’d never understand anyhow
But somehow you stay with her every day
Getting older, balder, and weaker as your life ebbs away
Never leaving the house or doing anything with your day
So what is the plan?
Do you face real life and make one of your own
Where you know where you are going and where you come from
A life at which you could really look
Why bother – there’s always Facebook.....
Anna Archichek
What if I never get better
What if years pass and I’ll still find myself favoring solitude with no desire to form new relationships
I’ll long for love but never allow myself a chance out of the cold
And my heart will wince even at the the thought of another kissing my lips
I’ll continue to push out any good that comes into my life
I’ll see the sun and close my curtains because the warmth reminds of better days
What do you do when someone wants to give you the sun
but all you’ve done is sulk in winter because you’re afraid of the sun rays
Afraid that you’ll get too close and suffer terrible burns because you forgot your sunscreen
Afraid that you’ll feel the warmth but be denied because you’ve ever only experienced an ice age
Afraid that you’ll lose it all if you let a soul in
Afraid to even open up a new book of love because you’re scared to see what may be on the first page
And maybe others are to blame for the onset of that ice age
but I’m to blame for the continuation of the mass snow fall and the sheets of ice
Not allowing myself to break down the wall in my mind
Only allowing myself to build it higher thinking it will give me my perfect paradise
But it doesn’t have to be like this
I can break down my walls and stop the storm
build a garden instead with a variety of flowers
I can let the sun in and for once let my heart feel warm
The sound of that is scary but other things are more concerning
Like the fact that I’m afraid of love
Or the fact that I could deny the love that is all around me
When in reality love is the only thing I wanted to feel or consist of
The truth is I’m not afraid of love or all the traits that come with it
I’m afraid that I may turn my back and my spine will be met with a sharp blade
Consuming me with a superficial love that bruises my soul and sever my heart strings
Taking that chance is almost asking to be betrayed
I don’t want to be afraid of the what ifs and off chances
I’m tired of slamming the door at the sight of love and peace
I want more for myself
because I’m so tired of solitude being the only way I can find emotional release
I think I do want love
No actually I want to be the epitome of it
I want to be warm to the touch and soft eyed
Because maybe for once I’m tired of just being a heart that’s broken and split