Self-Hate
Learn more about other poetry terms
Stuck in a tightening bubble
As the world around me floats
I reach out to them
But unable to pop the bubble
I'm comforted in this isolation
But yearning to pop it
Simultaneously
Dear self harm see you
and i have a love
And hate relationship
I don't hate you but
You leave ugly scars
On my skin i don't
‘are you okay?’ they ask, and i reply,
‘really, why are you worried? i swear, i’m fine.’
but i know that i’m really not okay
that this is all a mask, a pretty face
My name, Thanatos, resides on all their minds.
Death personified right into its living and breathing form, finds itself in a graveyard as a gravedigger, greatly confined.
came to the house early
my first house party
first of the twelfth month
stayed long after it was done
after the first handshake, the thought of me was a flake
unwanted unneeded
Winter begins when our eyes meet
We cast our icy stares at each other
And I'm frozen where I stand
I pound the glass in frustration
You do the same
The same idea must be crossing your mind
Sewing
What can I say.
What could I type.
Words pop into my head
Despite,
The anger
The wanting
The need.
It’s the devil in DISGUISE,
When you look into its eyes,
You become mesmerized.
An eater of souls and a dark cloud above,
At one point you thought it was LOVE.
You’d give up your LIFE just to have a TASTE.
Look at your face and your hair's small curls
you may not be a stick,
but you have the whole world
in your hands, between your shoulders, and even in your thighs.
How does the narration convey the idea that Meursault is a simple man to the reader?
He’s not
He’s not
He’s not
He’s not
He doesn’t have access his emotions
He’s taking it day by day
It’s tiring to wear a mask
Make sure it doesn’t crack
Make sure it doesn’t reveal the truth
Constant checking
Constant fear
Can anyone love me?
Would anybody be willing to withstand
My horrible insecurity,
The side of me I hide?
Would you be willing to tell me
It will be alright,
When you know I don't believe you?
Like a ballet dance on blades,Your mind is a fickle thing. Relevé, going fully en pointeOn razorblades,Slice your sole to sorry shreds--So very fucking sorry.
I've shed so many tears,
I have no more,
And all that is left is a shell.
A shell of a girl that I used to know,
The girl that I still show.
But no one knows what happens,
It started innocently in high school
Entering those broad double doors
Gazing at the slender and sleek girls
Wishing I could be one of them
I was content with what I had
Until I got those looks of
I've tried to put the pieces together to figure out why I ever cared.I think I tried fixing you, if I could do that simple task I would feel better.I couldn't fix you and I wound up falling for you.
To seem
is to know
you are broken somewhere
with a seam stitched tight with
self-awareness, an attempt at positivity
but knowing still where the rip
once was
and seeming fine
is fine enough
i feel as if those silencing thoughts mean
no more than a whisper in the rain,
because the rain can be so loud
and whispers have no choice but to fade away.
fade away.
The number, the size,the sanity, the happinesswane.
This is what you wanted, isn't it?
Flat stomach, thigh gap,slim waist, and prominent bones,achieved.
Someday I'll be who I want to be.Someday I'll be safe.Someday I'll be away from self harm.Someday I'll be truly happy.Someday I won't be so hard on myself.
If I were on a bridge,
I’d jump off.
If I had a gun to my face,
I’d pull the trigger.
If I had a knife close by,
I’d stab myself.
If I had scissors in my hand,
If i could cry i would weep for all eternity. If i could scream i would, i can do neither so i mourn in the most awful silence imaginable.. The sadness and pain is bottled up inside and i ache to let out.
No one can know about this secret.
This grotesque secret.
It's become a hobby.
Something done daily.
Something that is yearned.
Something that can become addictive.
It smells like death, if death had a smell
She felt a soft breeze while tears streamed down her face.
She stood there not knowing how to feel,
Not knowing what to say.
What she did feel was lost, empty, numb