Learn more about other poetry terms
*THIS POEM contains bad words and other nasty, gritty, poo-poo. DONT read if you are easily disturbed or young.
Dear Mom, why do you hate me? Is it because of secrets that have come out lately? That I do not love the same way you do, Or do not follow religion as if by voodoo?
The sky was black and gloomy, clouds drifting in and out of my line of sight from the window pane. The rain would come soon, nothing for help me again. When I looked into the mirror on this cold and miserable day,
She could spread her wings with the birds and the bees and follow the sun as they became one Rays of fire soaking through her pores and wrapped around her bones it lifts her up higher than everyone else
How did I spend so long dreaming Thinking I was worthy of...love What disease caused this vile idea to spread in my head that I was anything but unwanted
I am nothing like you want me to be I am not smart I am not funny I am not strong I will never be what you want me to be Instead of inspiring me
“Why do you think you’re not a craftsman?” I don’t make perfect things Or things that others appreciate Or things that serve a purpose
*Before you read this poem I wanted to add a trigger warning. This poem is about self-harming. If things like that bother you then do not read this poem.* I sat there and stared How could this happen?
A small step forward A little too close Beautiful rose admired Not like most I may see The dark side But to what degree?
I don't belong I'm broken. I can't understand It's unfathomable. I scare myself By being me. I want to kill this life Its not worth living. I'm always sorry For your struggle.
My Vanity, Is turning to extremity. I'd say its a necessity. The best damn part of me, it's like I won the lottery. Of all the insecurities, mine is an impurity. Have you got the cure for me?
Five little words swim round and round in my head, You'll never be good enough, Because that's what they all said.
All my life I wished to be special. I've never been quite sure why and perhaps I never will but I always dreamed of being unique.
I killed that little girl Thought she wasn't good enough for this world Buried her deep in the past She was unearthed at last My darling, I'm so sorry for what I did Everything good about you I hid
You don't comprehend. ∴ My thoughts, my dreams
Imagine a ten-year old you sitting in front of you. Tell that kid that they are: Worthless, Nothing, Stupid. Tell them that they're fat, That aren't good enough, That they should kill themself,
No, my parents do not fight. No, my grades aren't bad. No, my family's wallets aren't tight. No, I do not appear to be sad. No, I am not called ugly or fat.
I was three the first time i remember
lay on my bed crying until I had nothing left.
Here's what I do remember about this particular rape.
I didn't want to, but I picked the glass up and took a sip.It was horrible and I told my father there was no way I could get this terrible tasting st
One day when I was 13 and in the 8th grade, I had gotten the stomache flu and had to stay home from school.
My father took his trusty knife, wrapped her hands around it and they slit that rabbits throat without a sound.
I started feeling really dizzy and nauseous and was crying so badly, I could barely see nor breath through the tears.
I don't remember what set this next incident off with my father, I just remember it was one of the things that showed me just how much of a psyco nut
Coming back from the dead was always a terrifying experience for me. I hated it almost as much as the dying.
I remember wondering if my father could hear my heart pounding, then realized it didn't matter.
Have you ever been in an accident or so near death that at that very moment, you thought your life was over?
hello daddy !
I lie here not knowing if I’m awake or asleepI quickly open my eyes to realize the reality I once knew no longer existI no longer existA darkness now consumes me
One brown paper bag. It all started with one brown paper bag Against the charcoal of Mother Africa And the sandpaper of Nefertiti, And the rift grew into a canyon. The cocoa-drenched emperors
Too many teens sit on the steps in their house after school with tears on their face and blood on their wrists. They get out of school and they load their home screen on facebook or twitter or tumblr
You made who I am today and for that I hate you You made me see what others couldn’t dream You made me think I was nothing You made me sell coke every night
There are just something you cannot fix Trust me, I know I used to write letters to a girl who had slits on her wrist To say the least, she was sadistic She was sad and had a sickness
I close my eyes, and understand, The only way a child can, To be beaten down with soap, and socks, I beg forgiveness, the paradox.
shut them out, as I suffer to breathe Where are the words? Can we talk instead of scream? My opinion remains unheard The violent escapade on the frigid ground, I laid he charged at me,
Why I write, is so I can have an outlet. My lips are frozen, my voice is broken, I can't express how I feel because I- am softspoken. Why I write, is so I can vent.
He'll soon see Through your ways And finally know What I know You'll try and tell him it's ok And put on that phony show You'll make him believe it's all his fault
Father, don’t I look pretty? My mouth is sore and my tongue is gone. All I have is anger and love and I have smeared it on my lips and cheeks for you.
I understand why you hate me, because I hate myself. I understand why you left me, because I left myself. I understand why you hurt me, because I hurt myself. I understand why you reject me,
With lips painted so perfectly, And eyes as hollow as a rotten tree She haunts my dreams, killing me Who is this woman Whose hatred for me burn brighter than the hottest flames on the surface of the sun