Learn more about other poetry terms

daddy. i know i no longer call you this way. there are some nights where i catch myself thinking about your wounds. your hurting heart.
In and from this world what do we really want?
These are your hands and This is how you tell the world you’re not all bad These are your wrists, those are your scars, This is your story This is how you dodge the shattered glass around your feet
Sometimes it occurs to me That everything I struggle with Is because of you You will never wear a welcome mat As well as the porch steps And now I struggle To answer my front door
From Your Father: I was not raised to be what you need. I will never love you And I left to spare you that pain. I was never ready to be your father, And so I chose to never be one to you.
Screaming only not to be heard, not a word spoken just a glimpse of the emotion,hurt the wondering soul that just wanted to run and hide, could only find a little corner, the girl who cried inside
18: that's the age I have to be. I have to wait three long years, And it's killing me! But when that three years is up, I get to find out how my life fell apart, I get answers.
If I had it my way… I would pass back over the infinite abyss of rocky, tortuous paths Of Failed Attempts to Save Your Wretched, Reckless Soul And frantically collect the pieces of me I've lost along the way,
Sitting in this hollow room alone , Screaming , crying , cursing at whats unknown If there were some way to make it through the night If there were some way to make everything right I'd give anything tonight ,
What is distress in the land of opportunity My life is a snitch because in the end she's always telling on me I'm falling further into the abyss and its taking a tole on me
It feels like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff next to a calm sea and at any moment I could slip into the blue abyss quietly, the water would burden my lungs and with my last breath,
Once upon a time There was a little girl She had a mother and father And a small black puppy And her room was blue And her sheets were blue And she was in preschool, Where she made a friend
Subscribe to familyissues