speaking out
Learn more about other poetry terms
Talk to me about depression
And what it feels like to be lost and hopeless
Where loneliness exceeds all expectations
Where darkness is smelled and tasted and felt
Around you like a very wet heavy blanket
I remember crying myself to sleep,
seeing no hope for the future.
If only Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother could see
the damage they inflict on me.
Would I still stand up? Even if all are against me?
Would I still help out? Even if my pockets are empty?
Would I stand my ground? Even if the foundation is weak?
Would I be willing to lose it all? Even if I'm at my peak?
Pain doesn't have to be the universal crash-course workshop for art, but poetry is a thing like no other.
It flows from fingertips and mouth, easy like Monday morning.
Teeth grit to hold tongue and thought and sentiment.
I’ve heard of guys like you my entire life
The type to dumpster dive
Instead of revive
There were times I wished I’d died
If I died, you would’ve taken everything
Including my voice
I know truth to be little else than a blade
which use changes with the wielder.
Molded to a scalpel, it is made as a doctor
bringing relief from tender, hidden pain.
Truth can be a saw, gnawing through
You walk into that new shop on the corner. You've never seen it before. It's inviting store windows and beautiful exterior pull you inside. What are they selling?
words.
Why do i complain? What can i solve?
Just a girl standing at five one, I couldn't stand tall if my God had blessed me so.
A loser from a small town,
in one small school
in one small district
I was depressed at a young age,
Becoming a new person every day,
Never crying, emotions looking for a way out.
It came to me three quarters into sixth grade.
I paused from running away to stare at a golden page.
Fly on the Wall by Christian Betancourt
The fly on the wall
Sits silently in the room
And says nothing at all
Empty streets in my mind
I walk through them all the time
the silents breaks under my feet
and I remember when we truely meet
when I was sleeping and you were there
and all you did was stare
If I were to harm myself can you tell me how you'd feel? Would you feel ashamed of it, of how you made me kneel?
At the age of 18, most kids got their first tattoo.
I went to my first open mic.
And I was so scared to push my tongue and go,
I didn't want to know
I still wrote with training wheels.
