Sick Poems | Examples of Sick Poetry

Having been so long untouched, I’d become a child beyond touch and unclean. So, when suffocatingly roused from a nightmare of death to unbreathable silence in an oxygen tent, I cried afraid of dying alone. From somewhere (outside of all darkness) you appeared (starched-pinafored and perfumed a student nurse working nights after classes) bringer of light restorer of air redeemer. At your...

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From whence it came and for what purpose, completely mystifies. Could be from earth's galaxy with The One God to look toward or another universe, though those with degrees say such is jive. Perhaps, said denial is one omnipotent wisdom has long adored. Here it did appear, causing humans to endlessly, painfully agonize, as it senselessly, cruelly, ever stains us...

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I remember in every detail the kitchen where my grandmother worked while helping out at my uncle’s convenience store. There was just a flimsy curtain separating the living quarters; a bell would announce when customers walked in. I remember that big window by the table where there was a tiny 6” tv and the far corner where once in a while she would pull...

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These stairs have wept a million tears walking from parking lot to hospital room Hearts travel them, to meet their worst fears Through shadows and shame, past years Blessed by the memoires who consume These stairs have wept a million tears With the music of a soul ringing in my ears There’s more love and grace than gloom Hearts travel them, to meet...

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i wonder if this feeling will pass. if the skin rotting beneath my eyes will become a permanent color of blue, if the bruises on my knees will fade to nothing more then flesh. they say this feeling goes away as you age- im not so sure about that. i feel the agonizing sensation of pain rotting...

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A single tear is all I can give, For my body is drained of that pleasure. I’m too weak to remember the years I lived, Or the days too heavy to measure. So where does that leave me falling? What is it that could cure me? A single walk would tell me nothing - But at least for a moment I’d be...

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Bloodlet me, my precious You can make this my willing sacrifice To cure me of impurity, of sickness. Cut gashes into my face. Discard chunks of my body. These cliffs into my mind, Scars of unhealing, they save me. Blotch my red everywhere. Nobody wants my stained mind, but you— You save all the sympathy— Iridescent, darling, could you ever understand? Can't you see, I want to...

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Just thought of the B-word, Perhaps it’s tied to the F-word. Now I feel like the S-word— They all strike sharp, like a sword. Cutting both edges, cold and fierce, Though I remain just a piece. But my mind pleads for peace, To understand and release. B for bad, of what just came, I hoped for more, maybe fame. Yet the result spelled more shame, Replaying...

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Bad sick brains/ A jolt to the soul Energy raw, untamed, a primal scream/ Then Blink-182, "First Date," pop punk dreams, sixty million views, a digital stream, what a bad dream/ is anybody makin’ money nowadays? But views ain’t loyalty, tour duty, the grit and the grind/ The scar tissue earned, a chair...

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The outside world makes me sick, suffocates me, dissolves my essence beneath my own skin, Home seems like a distant illusion, reality—a thin veil ready to tear, I beg for other shells to cover my body, to hide my vulnerability, Loose clothes, shining chains, quiet shoes—all to divert attention. I try to hide the pain, to blur the days...

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Why am I so different? Why does the world look at me as if I am broken and lost? Tragedy does not define me touched as a child now forced to wear the scars of my generational curse.Due to one man’s uncontrollable lust the world treats me as if though I am better off dead....

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Heartthrob in damsel drag Belief of human bile Completely instilling cascading dregs of mechanical flesh, bones and spit 64th avenue And coiling deft doom Winged balls of bulging blood and speckled steel Merry wails and flutters of moths unsealed Fitted upon falling kneel And reckoned release of rotten roadkill- Rats and babes and brats Congealed candy and sickeningly sweet brandy And hailed light of...

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chest cold in april weird time to get it fishing out my vicks...

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Walking on her way to class she developed poison ivy Chants of ‘Kill the Jews’ – crude and crass have now replaced in 'Crimson’s yahd’ * ...

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fifteen and fragile, I carry storms in my chest no one asks about....

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