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Best Poems Written by Christina Peters

Below are the all-time best Christina Peters poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Christina Peters Poem

I Am Not An Addict

Spinning, and spinning, I am spiraling down, my feet have envy for the hard, solid ground. I cannot differentiate the earth from the sky. I cannot tell what I feel, if I laugh, or if I cry. Do my eyes lack such focus they've no more ability to see? Perhaps it's not that I need the drugs, perhaps the drugs need me. I do so miss the innocence, the days of remembering "when". I miss the beauty I could once see within my fellow man. I find I'm wishing for the time when I was most free. I feel such longing for the days I felt beauty inside me. Now I'm cast in shadow, in a world I don't belong. A lonely note in a chaotic score, off key in an empty song. And here in darkness, I'm struggling to spark a tiny flame. Over and over, it flickers out, unable to sustain. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I have not lost my way. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, inside me still burns a blaze. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I refuse to wear this brand. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, sifting through the sand. My screams they are exploding from a voiceless lung. Can no one hear the music? In silence are my songs sung? The stairway I've been climbing has begun now to decay. Can't go back, can't go on, I swear I'll find a way. There has to be some reason, somewhere within these rhymes. There must be some kind of connection, a way to join these lines. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, there must be so much more. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I swear I'll reach the shore. Once upon a lifetime ago, in the beauty of my youth, within my innocent wonder, I knew a different truth. A time in which I dared to dream, once when I believed I would be a force so great..."When I grow up, I'll be...". I AM NOT AN ADDICT, this life's become so hard. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, with shame, I bear these scars. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I will not fade to black. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, my soul remains in tact. This road, so rocky and uneven, so treacherous and steep. I'm tripping and I stumble, it's hard to find my feet. I try to recall a time in my life when my path was smooth. For maybe, I went wandering off, and slipped into this groove. I do not ever remember having an easy go. It's always been a beaten path, my row's been hard to hoe. Regretfully, on my journey, a part of me gave in, and in my efforts to numb the pain, I almost let it win. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I will force my will along. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I've been coping with this all wrong. I AM NOT AN ADDICT, I have to again believe. I AM NOT AN ADDICT...no I am not...I am me.

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The Songbirds Anthem

So inspiring and with such great admiration 
I marvel at the caged bird as it sings 
I’ve concluded that is how the bird must fly 
Having been orphaned from the use of it’s wings

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Save Your Judgement

You'd think that it would be easy 
to malfunction as I do. 
In the eyes of those who see me
clearly one and one are two. 
However, it's not that basic,
for, when in these shoes, they'll see, 
that it must be quite the trick,
when one and one are three. 
They all seem to know the "right" answers,
yet if they were in my skin,
they would be frozen, just standing there,
when I must run for my life, once again. 
Something that they need to learn,
as they holdfast to their grudge,
my life, my problems, they're my concern,
who the hell are they to judge??

Details | Christina Peters Poem

Convictions

It seems to be so odd to me
The way we accept these casualties
They fall before our very eyes
And somehow we just walk on by
We avert our stares, we turn our heads
Oblivious that we stand on a ledge
Unaware of our own mortality 
Seeking to mesh with normality
Lost and wayward, pretending to know
Exactly where we're trying to go 
Inappropriate, incognito, in denial
Those who are judged are placed on trial
Without even knowing the crime 
In daily life we serve our time

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Born of Bad Dreams

Descending deeper with each passing day
into some bittersweet abyss. 
Unraveling fast and beginning to fray,
I wonder if I'll even be missed. 
Married now to the newest of pains,
conserving such mystery. 
I fear I can no longer refrain
the demon that lives in me. 
Do I remember what it means
to love myself inside?
I am a creature born of bad dreams,
running out of places to hide. 
How much longer can I evade
the truth that's given chase? 
Void of soul, I'm a renegade,
haunting this horrid place. 
Perhaps there is but one way out
that I'm hard pressed to learn,
face your fears to remove all doubt. 
Stop running now and turn. 
Yes it's going to make me bleed, 
and tears are yet to be cried. 
Maybe this time I'll succeed
in releasing the monster inside.

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Plagued

I feel a plague of loneliness
from deep down in my soul. 
It seems to want me to forget
so it can take control. 
Each one of my memories
that I cherish from inside,
It hunts them down making them bleed
until each of them has died. 
Inch by inch I feel it creeping 
through all the parts of me. 
Before long, I'll start believing 
the lies that it's conceived. 
Day by day, I feel it growing 
who I once was begins to blur. 
All the while my consciousness knowing
there's little hope for a cure.
I guess I'll just give in,
all that remains now is to succumb.
Stop fighting and just let it win
be the monster I'm meant to become.

Details | Christina Peters Poem

Giphetto Kept a Secret

The harder the wind blows in my face 
The more determined I am I’ll leave this place 
The faster my feet desire to flee 
The harder my eyes have yearning to see
What is it that keeps on surfacing 
How does one measure their own suffering 
Can this really define what life truly is 
There must be something more I’ve missed 
They’re all melting together, each of my days 
Scurrying along like mice in a maze 
Baited by a variety of things 
Still merely puppets dancing on strings 
No one seems to comprehend 
They’re no more than one tiny grain of sand 
How hard it may be to gain control 
To cut the ties that bind the soul 
It just spins on faster and faster 
Will I ever become the puppet master 
Or lost in the masses am I to remain 
Dancing for peanuts while someone else gains

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W Are All Mad Here

Do you think that you would know 
if you’d lost your mind?
For if one did go crazy 
I’m sure they’d miss the signs. 
And if indeed there’s “no one home,
yet all the lights were on”,
could someone still find their voice,
to lift them up with song?
Certainly if I feel perplexed 
by the loss of such a thing,
that in itself should then disprove 
that which I’m pondering. 
So, surely as I’m sitting here,
racking my functional brain,
I must exist inside myself. 
There’s no way I am insane.

Details | Christina Peters Poem

Treading Waters

Swimming in a sea of pain 
Doing laps inside a brain 
Corrupted by a loneliness 
A soul has ever-long repressed 
Every time I push through a wave 
I consider that which I gave 
To a life of yesterday 
With ghosts that linger as they prey
Upon the essence of my soul
Making it impossible to be whole 
Here I float, in this abyss 
Feeling the cold of the water’s caress
Alone and tossed upon this sea
A ed up broken entity