Self Hate Poems - Poems about Self Hate

They birthed me in a house of screams, Where shadows stitched my fevered dreams— No lullaby, no gentle womb, Just rusted chains and cradle's tomb. A mother’s voice? A serpent's hiss. A father's touch? A clenched, cold fist. Each lull was laced with sharpened lies, Each smile a mask, each hug a vice. I suckled rage from...

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the soul that thinks it has a right to my body. Ungrateful— it does nothing but complain. And really, what right does it have? It has it too good—so good that, what?— it just needs something to cry about? Even if the pain is manifested, even if the hurt is self-inflicted, it’s never enough just to be happy. No— it craves, it aches, it dreams, only to shatter...

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I never learned anything from my younger self, I knew I needed therapy meds and a lot of help Thoughts from my past are creeping up on me fast As a child of many many children in the family I was born third so no one gave a damn about me! 17 years old I saw my dad cheat on...

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Melt me across a sidewalk and walk all over me. I hope I at least smooth out the cracks. I hope one less person trips over because of me. Crave away my flaws and make me into the most beautiful sculpture. I hope no one sees my shavings. I hope you look at me in awe. Burn me when you want...

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In depths of solitude, I stand forlorn, With shadow as my sole and steadfast friend. By society shunned, from kinship torn, I ponder on life's edge, its bitter end. Upon the bridge, where thoughts of ending bloom, My shadow's form beside me makes its stand. This grim moment, midst the gathering gloom, I gasp, “l'm not alone in this bleak land!” For shadow's...

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Words encouragement Bounce off with no meaning Meaningless rumors Absorbed like a dry sponge Torments from others Like a raging flood Face hidden by his hoodie He pretends to ignore Rumors & torments Scarred and torn by the words He’ll fade away slowly Not a single soul noticing No emotions at all after his family's betrayal ...

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I'm something I'm not proud to be, but what if this something has always been me? What if the monster that crawls in me is just my heart? What if it explodes before I tear it apart? My ruins will fly, like vultures in the sky. Picking on the dirt they find, of the ground and my dead body's hind. I tore papers...

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I walked knowingly into the trap as a boat sails over Charybdis. Afraid of showing tell-tale marks up and down my arms. I gave in to the lesser evil, went astray, searching indiscriminately for an escape. My search lead me to a certain type of website. Taking refuge in my libido, I removed my clothes, alone. My body laid bare, for the asking. My hands...

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Should I be reminded of being a freak I shall fall onto my knees And cry before I break But try before I wake From this sleep so blinding black I will look for what I lack A sense of beauty on my face The only sight of a disgrace They see me as a freak I must have had a leak I cry and...

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O look in the mirror Who stares back is never the same We should change Not stagnate Yet I see different people Those who I am proud of Ashamed Disgusted Hate Despise I never know who will look back She looks a bit like me But that's only on the surface That loathing runs deep...

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There are so many trapped and tortured souls in this desolate place. We are ghosts, screaming for freedom, darklings, crying for light. Never sure how to grasp onto something invisible, without strangling it. Even before the cold bars made of murk and gloom there was no hope, only bleakness. Now "lost'' takes on a greater, deeper meaning for us here. Lost in the abyss of incarceration, groping for strands...

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it's about to hit midnight. I'm in the bath crying. I'm crying not because the cuts I just made sting like mad as I hit the water, but because I feel disgusting and angry and sad all in one. I had a horrible nightmare last night about Jack and what he did. I woke up knowing it...

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For once we want to feel content With the story the universe chose for us And the person we were born and meant to be We’re tired of longing To be like that girl To be like the girls on instagram and pinterest Who have aesthetic feeds Always put together and neat Everything about them screams Perfect From...

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May 30 was the day you left You took my heart like a nigh time theft Heart so broken I couldn't find a cure Narcotics and Alcohol helped me endure Smoke in my lungs gave me peace Clouded the memory of when you decided to leave It made everything seem alright But your memory never stayed behind Nights of smoking with the skunk...

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Wolfgang sits alone in a Berlin bar Plying drink to drink's still darker state, Depressed, alone, and full of hate For what he has become. Young backpack enters and with uncertain Tongue a conversation starts, until late Drinking talk is done and Wolfgang must Depart, but bids young backpack home With prospects of a sheltered night and promise Of...

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