ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
you’re a
temperamental bitch
that moans when I go.
You compare
alcohol
to happiness.
You creep
from throats
& bones
like some
hungry monster.
But Poetry,
language
was invented
for you.
You awoke
a rhythm
between my
fingertips
that still
taunts
me.
You’re either a
vital organ,
or blood.
However, Poetry,
are you cheaper
than the women
in the empty spaces
of my life-
or the secrets
I write
between my thighs?
Poetry,
I am Fifty Shades
of girl.
Why should I feed you?
Do you know
what to do
with my body
when you are merely
ink stained fingers
soaked in passing
& the fevers
conjured
within burning stars?
I didn’t think so.
temperamental bitch
that moans when I go.
You compare
alcohol
to happiness.
You creep
from throats
& bones
like some
hungry monster.
But Poetry,
language
was invented
for you.
You awoke
a rhythm
between my
fingertips
that still
taunts
me.
You’re either a
vital organ,
or blood.
However, Poetry,
are you cheaper
than the women
in the empty spaces
of my life-
or the secrets
I write
between my thighs?
Poetry,
I am Fifty Shades
of girl.
Why should I feed you?
Do you know
what to do
with my body
when you are merely
ink stained fingers
soaked in passing
& the fevers
conjured
within burning stars?
I didn’t think so.
Literature
Two Years Later
She asked him gently, “Do you love me?”
In his long silence, she found closure,
And left her love under a willow tree.
Literature
Bipolar Disorder
Dear everybody,
I’m not just moody.
I have Bipolar Disorder.
I don’t choose to have this unbearable depression,
Where I sob uncontrollably and the most unpredictable times.
A sadness that paints your entire mind,
And drips
Down into your soul.
And you don’t know when it’s suddenly going to
Change.
Change, from being a terrifying unhappiness,
To being such a fantastic happiness
So spectacular,
That you can’t even connect your thoughts with your own brain.
Where you challenge the world,
Because you feel bigger than a speck of dust for
The first time in your
Life.
And then?
It changes.
It changes from being such an
Literature
I can't write poetry for dead girls.
there are too
many pills in this
world and too
much misery in
the human heart
but that didn't mean
that you could just
up and leave when
we both know it
could have gotten better
and i miss you like
a wolf misses her pack
or a goddamn dragon misses
her fire and i'm sorry
that i can't give you
a bouquet of jasmines
(they were your
favorite, after all,
because that was
the only princess
with a pet tiger)
because poppies are
too cliche and i'm
sorry i wasn't there
when all you needed
was a hug and for someone
to whisper "it's okay,
you're perfect enough
for me, don't listen
to that junkie bitch
who just happened to
give birth to you" and did
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Another randomly generated facebook status poem.
Interested in seeing what you can make? ---> what-would-i-say.com/
Interested in seeing what you can make? ---> what-would-i-say.com/
Comments59
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
i have no words to say how beautiful is