Self Hate Poems - Poems about Self Hate

marionette of grief

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

the Soul

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

The Past

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

People-pleaser

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

My Silent Companion: A Sonnet for Shadow

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

Fighting Rumors That Hurt

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

Vultures

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

What I Have Left Far Behind

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

Freak

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

The Mirror

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

Incarceration's Abyss

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

About To Hit Midnight

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

That Girl

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

The Day You Left

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

Wolfgang

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
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