Learn more about other poetry terms
To the skeletons in my closet and the demons in my head, I just need you to that I need to sleep when I go to bed You come to me in the middle of the darkness of the night
Bumps of ketamine. Go to bed real late. It’s not what it seems, Hell is a soulmate. Vodka made of tears,
Can somebody call for help... Get me out of this cell... I don't belong here...in this insane asylum... It just amazes me... That nobody cares.. That I am stuck...in this insane asylum...
I am a prisoner to the world I live in. I am told how to be. How to be perfect, how to be loved, how to be worth something. I am dictated by numbers. My weight, my GPA, my class rank, my waist measurement.
They say your eyes, When given time, Become accustomed To the night. Though dark and eerie One great shadow, Night penetrated Glows to light. It is a lie.
Note: A short story based of of the Warrior Cats book series written by Erin Hunter.
My demons Have your face now. Haunting my existence. Creeping into my dreams. My nightmares. Keeping me awake Keeping me on edge. Keeping me your prisoner…
For over 5 years, a prisoner to myself Shadows of isolation cast upon my very being Searching for traces of sanity, satiated in a cell Of my own design, questioning another breath
There's a peculiar type of loneliness incurable by just your company.
Life is a tricky game to play Coasting through, not a care in the world Like kids in a game of hide-and-seek Making each move, not knowing What's behind the corner? Growing older, time still isn't winning
I struggled against my restraints I was forced here, into a cage I wasn't meant to be locked away I have things to do, Places to see, People to meet
I look in the mirror My reflection cackles back at me A smug grimace consumes its face Pain fiercely burns throughout my body like a million hot rocks on my tender skin
I look out the window on a cloudy dayOnly to see the pellets of rainKeeping the illustrious sun at bay. I notice the drops as they feignA glorious waterfall of glass.The sapphires will twinkle and reign
My mind is a prison The prisoner locked inside the cell is me Why you may ask because i can't gain control so i lose it every time and when the control is lost the pain takes over
When darkness falls he raises his head. He's free, not a servant of the light. He ventures to paths no-one has tread, Keeping the night obscure and bright. Is there a reason for irony such as this?
You say you’d like a poem To explain just why I write So I thought hey! I’ll show ‘em There’s no recipe? Right? I’ll guess as to criteria Flow: naturally Relatable: I feel ya! …Originality
What is wrong with the world?
Time enchants her victim, begs me near to sharp being… Wraps round frail shoulders as she tickles porcelain cheek.