Self Hatred Poems - Poems about Self Hatred

A fraction of home, Can she come to me? See? Ignore the useless bodies, They can’t have what’s mine. Can’t even tell what’s a lie, What is living? (Living, living, living.) Why do you come back? Dread is all it is, It can’t hurt me, but my home SUFFERS My hands are gross, coincide with my arm, One is insecurity, the other is selfish. Do you...

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Silence hangs, air is deathly . . . The silence breathly thousands of my voices They tear at my choices ~tear~ roughing-- till I ...

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My skin crawls as I watch a hand, disembodied, reach yet again into the Tollhouse bag. Bright, artificial yellow. It burns my eyes. Countless chocolate chips are shoveled down my gullet as if crumbs to a wretched, starving creature. I’m only jarred out of my sinful haze by catching si th r of my reflection. That face staring back at me -...

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… [I’m an idiot; I can hold a conversation though I always stutter, I’m average looking yet I hate every molecule I possess. I’ve healed, yet those memories still haunt me. I’ve made impacts and shared my story, yet I’m worthless and will be forgotten. So I ask; Mirror, oh mirror, please give me answers!] “I promise I...

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I live, letting life’s events blow along with the wind; inhaling the scented, crisp breeze. I seldom sit down and question my purpose, instead I flow from the water which I arose from. Though the water, once cool and clear, has turned salty and bitter, which leaves me to investigate. Countless searching presents my ultimatum;...

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if you saw me the way i see myself maybe you'd get it. "count your calories, read the nutrition panels, diet, exercise," i know. believe me, i know. "it's for your health," turns into a chase after my... after your ideal weight for me. but you say it's mine. I'm afraid of dying because i worry they won't even be able to lift my casket. body positivity until you no longer fit into...

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Sometimes my brain deludes me into believing that I am utterly unlovable. Like a dog who has been in the shelter for far too long, being prepared for his final meal. My throat closes up, My lungs shut down, And there are no other thoughts to be had. I often convince myself that I do not deserve good...

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It is addictive. Used to it like the wicked bitter pills that one swallows to numb the pain, to block the feelings. Lethargic yet nerve-wracking; A tightness in the chest that never goes away. Faint, throbbing, persistent. It is inherent to me. the salinity of an ocean of tears, the chaos of a storm wrecked ship, the thorns of a lonely cactus. Never clears away by itself. Haunting...

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This dull, heavy ache never leaves my heart. It is a constant reminder that I’m not good enough, and never was. It’s a reminder that my body still holds all the feelings that I’ve never been able to process throughout my life. It’s a slow corrosion of my soul, It’s slowly losing hope that happiness exists. It’s grief, recognising that...

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Why am I not better yet? I’ve stopped eating, Stopped thinking The clock is ticking Faster, faster The days are blending together I’ve cried too many tears I’ve lost too many friends I’ve ran out of sleep My hands are shaking My legs are bouncing My hair hasn’t been washed My teeth are yellow Why am I not better? I’m drowning in my own tears I’m ill and no one...

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...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’ it’s the refrain of loud femenists, forgetting that before birth control nature gave us little choice in this. That before we had technology, when life meant brutal, physical work, that there just weren’t all that many jobs physically weaker women could work. They forget that the woman’s franchise arose on America’s frontier, that we blazed the path for suffrage, their...

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Programmed fools demonize our culture, try to undermine, demoralize, say that it’s all ‘white supremacist,’ it’s ‘patriarchal,’ ‘all built on lies.’ Overblow every mistake they find, project onto us all of their sins, parasites dependant on a host that they’re busy killing from within. Be they our teachers of professors, or scum media lying out loud, don’t listen when they preach self-hatred, for there is much...

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Every morning I wake up not knowing if ill look in the mirror at either Jekyll or Hyde. Not knowing if ill be praying to die or feeling alive. This right here is my typical bad day, keep your pity or judgement to yourself . I don't need an instant replay of what I'm already...

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Clouding my heart from the peace I know I should feel, Anguish and hate tear away inside of me, With this hate follows only destruction, With this anguish follows fear, Will I ever be at peace from myself, Will peace ever find me....

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I have nothing but regrets and memories that make me hate myself more than I did before, I feel as if I am in a never- ending war with myself and I'm losing, my heart is steadily bruising....

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