Me Myself And I Poems - Poems about Me Myself And I

My persona divides to split in three Impulse, Intellect, nationality. All run simultaneous to feel free. At a time, one may get priority....

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I'm not feeling at all myself today— I see a sea of selfies. adrift in a mirror maze, floating as reflections that are lost in a hall of posed intentions. Each face is a practiced smile. a seance of polished poses, looped like circling carousel horses, whispering secrets they pretend are mine. I forge new versions of myself daily, crafted to echo what...

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It was a funeral for myself And I still haven't buried her yet The sky opened up and released its anger Rained down in grief and sadness The only other witness to her multiple deaths The world built her to break It was too late to save her For she was now unrecognisable In a casket crafted from pain...

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Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light —Dylan Thomas sunny outside, not cloudy inside; out of my mind, mindless wandering and wondering; fine - fooling myself? days tedious, no drums. no inkling of a violin, even to suffer with. May be smoking hot, but red skin is turning white. falling up, failing to feel sorry for oneself. calls limited to...

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March Comes In Like A Lion Dandelion dance in the palm of my hand; a gentle bloom. I love my birthday flower. ...

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I starve myself. When saying it out loud it sounds surreal, But it’s the only way I can feel. I am not worthy of food. It is not worth the weight. Fore I see myself by what I have ate. Starving is like slowing dying. Numb, and invisible to what others can see. Funny how food could be the death of me. I...

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I. I got lost inside myself one night, Like stars fall through a dome. The body stayed, but not the light The soul had left for home. II. I walked a library of breath, Books unwritten, spines of bone. Each dream was shelved behind my eyes, And each one dreamed alone. III. My ribs turned into corridors, Each one a silver thread, Where time knelt down and locked...

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I reminded myself in an unusual way, While standing in a rain of a watery display, Soaking in my new town's local splash park, Remembering how I needn't be in the dark. I let the risen structuredly flowing fountain Grant me a liquified sense of liberation As I basked beneath a cloudy sunlit sky, Promising myself to never again deeply cry. I reminded...

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I feel like I’ve been lazy lately I think I should go harder Maybe? I’m not satisfied I know I can do better Pushing yourself to be better is the new cool Who gives a damn about what others think about you? I feel better now that I don’t care if I’m liked or not Hard work pays off You can’t...

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Learned a million language Read millions of books To learn how to live and think Only to discover the actual way Which is following my heart Intuition never lied put people's opinion aside don't live in the wrong side don't forget to take pride Only God knew how much I cried How many times I wish I died Billion wrong thing I left to...

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Being a lover and a poet That's as melancholy as we know it Me, myself and I Collide with you, yourself and mày...

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I fold myself into smiles I don’t feel, like paper carefully hiding the truth, I walk hallways as if I’m not slowly melting into the shadows of silent walls, I nod in conversations as if I’m truly listening, but in reality, I’m just trying to remember what it was like to breathe without apologizing for every breath. The mirror...

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there i sat at 1am thinking about where i went wrong as tears poured down my face like an unearthly waterfall i remember every conversation trying though as to remember why did they like me? did they even truly like me? or was it a game only, someone has to put that blame on them because i didn’t do anything wrong or so i thought yet i...

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"As the day ends, one is closer to heaven." By Poet My neighbor is old, she can be very bold. Loving to wear lots of fancy gold, and decrepit I am told. You know age is just a thing, numbers one wants to ring. How old are you, that number may make you blue. They tell me I am a decrepit ninety-two, but I can...

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I keep my memories on a shelf Each one a book, a spine, a name A library of all I've lived Of all I've felt and seen Some volumes end too early Some, stretched across my years And I pull them out when the night feels empty Open to a chapter I thought I forgot Some, I've tried to burn away They still echo...

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