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Literature Text
I am trying to cover my sadness with words.
Tape them against my scars
& wear them like worthy paper cuts.
My tears are alcohol swabs, burning & cleansing
wounds of my own making. Sometimes,
I wish I could hide behind them forever.
But not even this journeyed flesh can stand
castle strong against speechless ink stains.
I know the code. This body does not deserve
a warriors death. & poetry, you're a monster—
a creative monster, but evil nonetheless.
I wish to string you into knots, force feed you
down the throats of others. De-format you
& leave you empty; freeversed-
to hang loosely along the heartstrings
of strangers, & past lovers.
We are the perfect poster children for
battered homes, aren't we poetry?
The dysfunctional couple
black-eyed and angry love.
You can't protect me from myself forever.
Tape them against my scars
& wear them like worthy paper cuts.
My tears are alcohol swabs, burning & cleansing
wounds of my own making. Sometimes,
I wish I could hide behind them forever.
But not even this journeyed flesh can stand
castle strong against speechless ink stains.
I know the code. This body does not deserve
a warriors death. & poetry, you're a monster—
a creative monster, but evil nonetheless.
I wish to string you into knots, force feed you
down the throats of others. De-format you
& leave you empty; freeversed-
to hang loosely along the heartstrings
of strangers, & past lovers.
We are the perfect poster children for
battered homes, aren't we poetry?
The dysfunctional couple
black-eyed and angry love.
You can't protect me from myself forever.
Literature
Love
Love is when somebody gives you a shoulder to cry on.
Love is when somebody makes you laugh when you're sad.
Love is when you miss somebody whenever they are gone.
Love is when whenever you see that person you feel glad.
Loving somebody is choosing not to see their flaws.
A human being will never be perfect.
Everything that person does you will give a loud applause.
Cause in your eyes everything that person does is correct.
You want them to smile.
You would work extra just to be with that person.
Even if it would be just for a while.
Love is unconditional, that's the truth.
Literature
Wish for Privacy
I live behind a locked door,
And no one has the key.
It has been years, maybe more
Since someone talked to me.
The solitude was nice at first,
The quiet let me think.
But soon it took a turn for worse—
Now all I do is blink.
So be careful, my dear friends,
When you wish for privacy.
Count to 5 when patience bends
Or you'll end up just like me.
Literature
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
Giving them kisses in the dark
to numb their headache from
drinking too much and yet
not enough to kill lust.
She was always adored by boys, who,
if given the chance, would rebuild
the world for her.
But she wanted to be the heroine
and refused to see
she needed saving, too.
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The title is also my username, sue me.
Sorry, I'm depressed today so this piece is just me trying to make myself feel better. I don't think it is working.
Edit:
I need to clear some things up, because a few of you are quite confused. I have been writing poetry since I was in the 8th grade. During that time, I was sick and depressed--and all around not right in the head. I was into self-harm, and I tried to commit suicide. It came out later that I had Major Depressive Disorder. ( And because I am adopted, we hadn't known it ran in my family. My biological brother killed himself, for apparently 'no given reason'. ) Doctors make me sick, I even see a white coat and I will throw up. Therapy pisses me off, and drugs do nothing. So, I found an outlet--through writing I am able to channel all this negativity and throw it out for everyone to see. But, sometimes it doesn't work and I feel like I'm taking one step forward, and two back.
Sorry, I'm depressed today so this piece is just me trying to make myself feel better. I don't think it is working.
Edit:
I need to clear some things up, because a few of you are quite confused. I have been writing poetry since I was in the 8th grade. During that time, I was sick and depressed--and all around not right in the head. I was into self-harm, and I tried to commit suicide. It came out later that I had Major Depressive Disorder. ( And because I am adopted, we hadn't known it ran in my family. My biological brother killed himself, for apparently 'no given reason'. ) Doctors make me sick, I even see a white coat and I will throw up. Therapy pisses me off, and drugs do nothing. So, I found an outlet--through writing I am able to channel all this negativity and throw it out for everyone to see. But, sometimes it doesn't work and I feel like I'm taking one step forward, and two back.
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My dear Kayla, I, and certainly others, of a creative nature can relate to this.
Muses can be terribly terribly unkind.
I do love this poem. And I do love you.
Muses can be terribly terribly unkind.
I do love this poem. And I do love you.