OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

@HauntingFeelings00

Beautifully said, and very true.

They're monsters n her closet

Who only come out at night

They tease her and make fun of her

Through out the night

She breathes quietly

Afraid they'll get her

But once she looked in the closet

They were no where to be in sight

She heard them behind her

Believing the monster were inside her

But really

The monster were her fear.

Dear @FindingAWay5011, Although a little fear can help keep us safe, sometimes a fear can be so powerful it paralyzes us -- keeps us from living fully.

Your poem highlights how fear can have a terrible grip on us . . . .

I've always

listened

to your secrets,

but you've never

wanted

to listen

to mine.

Dear @piunpeun, This gentle statement is very short and simple, but it carries a world of hurt, I think. That kind of imbalance of generosity -- it tells us a great deal about a relationship, doesn't it?

TRIGGER WARNING: Child Sexual Abuse

who are we?

we are the pain seeping through us every day

leaking into our blood

poisoning our core

eroding our essence

locking us inside the pieces of a home we never really knew

i am a wounded heart

a body scarred

fear digs into me deeply

embedded in my mind and flesh

an eternal mark, saying:

I am wreckage. Do not salvage me.

she is

a smile painted on

a disgraceful face rearranged

into ‘why would he?

‘how could they not?

words unspoken

and tears that fall heavily

onto quivering lips no longer pure

twisting her into painful waves

trembling in the feelings

of memories that chain me forever

who are we?

she was a good time

a good girl

all the right body parts to satisfy you

and i am worthless trash

dispose of me

you say I have no feelings

you are our every nightmare

but we are your life

what your best dreams are made of

we are parts of you

who are we?

we are hands that harm us

holding us down in unison

words like weapons, warning us

this is our little game

we are secrets that silence us

the voice of darkness that whispers

he loves me in the dead of night

we are

the breath of life

bleeding out beneath you

we are the rising sun of daylight

where no reassurance is offered

where no comfort lives

only more hurt

a pressure for perfection

a promise for silence

that is painful to the touch

we are tangled up in your obsession

living the lie is killing us

we are the lack of love

a soul feeling broken

while he is masquerading

with a perfect façade

underneath it all

we are an empty blackness

under the weight of the world

she is lifeless

dying from the thirst

and i am drowning beneath the waves

fighting to stay alive

there is no one paying attention

why doesnt anyone care?

who are we?

we are their daughter

terrified and trapped

all alone

we are nobody

we are nameless

Dear @unsinkableSpirit312, It hurt to read this poem -- the child's emotions are so real and so intensely painful. You eloquently portray the confusion and feelings of having little intrinsic worth. (deep sigh) Thank you for having the courage to share it with us.

@Annie, thank you. It's so frightening to share your most vulnerable emotions for everyone to read, but I feel it's also liberating in a way. Though it upsets me that anyone understands these same feelings and can empathize with this kind of pain, it makes me feel better that I'm not alone. Thank you for reading my poem and responding. I appreciate it a lot.

Why do you hate me?

Why do you bash me so?

I've always tried to respect you,

and be my best. though,

It's never enough.

Never good enough for you.

I do my best to help,

to succumb what is left.

I'm stuck cleaning,

this beaten down nest.

So why do you hate me?

Why do you push me down?

It seems to me my head is buried

deep

under

ground

@beautifulWaterfall101

*Hugs* Don't worry about the haters, the fakers, the two-faced manipulators. You are stronger, braver, and better than any of them could ever dream of being. Here, you are one of us. Someone who wears shining armor is a man or woman who hasn't put their metal to use. Have pride in your battles and victories. You are a survivor. And we will always be here for you.

Some creative ways to create a poem

Newspaper blackout poems - where you colour in a newspaper page with black, and only leave key words in to complete your peom.

The Unwanted Friend

If period is alive,

If period is a person,

If period is here,

I would hurt period,

And there will be no more period.

Period.

- A poem dedicated to all the young girls and women in midst of their monthly visit.

Sanctuary (or Awakening Into a Nightmare on a Saturday Morning)

My bed, my sanctuary

Wrapped in comfort, I escape

In my dreams, I can start over

New possibilities exist

I'm no longer bound by my past decisions, mistakes or fears

But it's fleeting

The slightest sound - the bird chirping, the neighbors' voices, the dreaded alarm

Jolts me into reality where I am bound and trapped

In the stress spiral of my own creation

So I lay in my sanctuary

Dreading the first step into the field of life

Rigged with mental land mines of crippling fear

I lay hoping to doze off, once again

Into the land of infinite possibilities,

If only for a minute

Before I embark on another day in a hopeless reality

From which I cannot escape

Unmasked

All these changes, they're breaking me,

Piece by piece they're drowning me.

I don't know what to do,

I don't know where I am,

Is it a cul-de-sac or a metropolis that I glimpse?

A guiding light,

I desperately am in need,

Please tell me, where do I seek?

I strived to be perfect,

The person they wanted to see,

The individual I didn't want to be.

I tried to slip on a masquerade,

To create a flawless illusion,

To conceal the emotions,

And the truth that lied within;

But I guess that is stabbing me,

And my petty little conscience.

I just don't know what I should do,

I am lost for thoughts, words and deeds.

Do stay motionless?

Or stand up to the accusations?

A steady life I long for,

In this topsy turvy world of mine,

Oh what do I do? Maybe just sit here and whine?

I am afraid to raise my voice,

To unleash my identity,

I am not as ideal as they describe,

I've got my own differences to tackle when thrown aside,

It just gets exhausting, the more I try to suffice.

Oh, I want to stand up to the allegations,

And yes, I want to prove to them I'm right.

Sucking up to all the changes

And pretending that I'm fine?

That's not how I feel,

Oh you need to know what's on the inside.

Drowning in my fears,

Facing it all alone,

Will someone come to help me,

I can't do this on my own.

Distorted shapes and hooded figures

flitting in and out of my vision,

mocking me of my cowardice.

I shrank back into the comforts of oblivion,

refusing to acknowledge something

that isn't even there.

A scream pierces the silence of the deadly night

continued by convulsions raking my body.

I see figures surrounding me,

holding me down, drowning me in

a wave of emptiness.

a cool sensation spreads through my veins

as i effortlessly slip into the void.

will I ever rid myself of these

chains of a twisted mind?

Well written. Very dark. I really like it.

Thanks for the compliment! :)

How to cope.
(TW: Self-harm, trichotillomania)
This isn't the best poem I've written, I didn't edit it. Sorry!

I used to feel bad,
but that was a while ago.
I used to feel bad,
but I scratched lines, marked with red.
I used to feel bad,
but that subsided.

I feel bad again,
it's been going on a while.
I feel bad again,
it'll be bad to tell anyone.
I feel bad again,
it'll be nice to let those lines heal.
I feel bad again,
it'll be nice to...

Wait. Is this okay?
...Yes, it is.

I still feel bad,
I close the bathroom door.
I still feel bad,
I feel the hair on my head.
Thick hair.

It'd be a shame to ruin it...

...Screw that.

I'm starting to feel worse,
My hands go to my head.
I'm starting to feel worse,
I begin to pull.

One more...
one more...
one more...
Just make it stop...

Too late.

@Monarda, I've missed you. Very much. (This poem is heart breaking. But I'm glad to see you again!! I hope you're okay.)

Hi, @Annie! I'm fine but I was doing really badly when I first wrote the poem down. I guess I posted it to show my raw emotions and thoughts when I start to remember certain things. Also, I'm glad that you welcomed me back, so thank you!

Currently Untitled

Why do I do this to myself? This constant corruption of who I am for the sake of a moment lived in shadows?

Why do I open my eyes to a face that cannot be mine when the sun rises?

As haunted as my dreams are every waking moment is spent waiting, longing to return to them.

Because she will be there. She is always there. Even when she wasn't here.

I can have her in my dreams completely, without hesitation or question. In my dreams the possiblities are endless.

In the night I can have almost everything, but I must give her to the morning.

I don't want to. She doesn't want to.

Why do I feel what should be pain but feel it only as desire? I should hurt but I just love her more.

Pain is gone, I gave at the office. Pain has been replaced by something greater, but why the --- can't I feel pain just one more time?

GODAMMIT I want my pain back!

I want to know I can still feel the emptiness, the blackness. I want to know I can still feel human but try as I might I cannot make it happen. The pain won't come. Give me back my ----ing humanity! ---- you! I deserve to feel normal.

---- you? --- Me!

In those dreams, in those stolen moments of reality I feel only joy, only happiness. I only want them. But I deserve to feel the pain. Johnny Cash could Hurt, why can't I?

Why do I torture myself by wanting to feel pain when what's in front of me is a symphony? I hear Beethoven. Ode to Joy is in my soul but I want is Nine Inch Nails down my back and in my heart.

I want to rip my own heart out and watch it bleed as the life fades from my own eyes but I only feel it beating stronger with every moment she is in my arms. Who the ---- am I? Why is this my curse?

When the morning comes, I give her up. I should cry when she leaves. I don't. whatever. Why don't I beg "don't go! Stay with me now, forever. Untill the sun gives forth it's last burst of light and dies in the heavens leaving us to face the final moments of existence together"?

She is not the problem. I am the problem. I know now I always have been. What is pain to the world is joy to me. What is terror to some is pleasure to me. What villifies the damned sanctifies them in my eyes.

I live in Sweet Pain

expletives deleted by forum mentor Annie

@Rainking57 Very powerful poem. So much emotion has been conveyed by you in this. Thank you for sharing with us here.

Where it all started

I was eating my dinner with my mom

When we talked about something

That triggered my anxiety

She doesnt know

I kept on eating and saying

I want to throw up

I told myself long ago

Its already in the past

And I should let it go

But my wounds never scarred

They only scabbed

Dried up blood just waiting

For someone to peel them off

Its still clear to me

The pain of being replaced

Being second best

Being compared

I remember the look on their faces

The disappointment

When they found out

That I just came in second

And the way my old friends reacted

They cheered

They said i deserved it

Good for me

At last someone was better than me

They werent my friends at all

They never were

It is still fresh in my mind

The way I was asked why

Why cant I compete

I cannot because I never wanted to

It all started there didnt it

Why I became neurotic apologetic pessimistic

I always wanted to know

Why

Didnt

They

Understand

W h y

No Bacon for the Commoner:

A mark upon my skin

is a common sin.

However I am still able

to get a tattoo.

Wearing polyester

goes against God.

However I am still allowed

to wear it.

Having an abortion

is frowned upon by both

God and our society.

I can still do it.

Trimming a beard

Upsets God, but

our society thinks it is

weird to not shave.

Have you ever eaten

shellfish, rabbit, or a hamburger?

Well I bet you did not know that

you have angered our Lord.

Out of of all of these sins,

Why do we focus on same sex marriages?

The Bible does not agree with it,

But it does not agree with bacon, either.

So so unless you have

read the entire Bible

and meet all of the criteria,

I believe that your opinions are irrelevant.

PLEASE do not feel offended by this in any way. It was meant to be harsh, and in no way is your "opinion irrelevant." It was just a way to express my opinions on why same-sex marriages should not be forbidden and/or frowned upon, and that you can be straight AND still support those who are not (because really, there is no difference in who we are) :)

@AbbyCDEFG

Thanks for the clarification about the line that the opinions of others are "irrelevant." I appreciate it.

When I disagree with others, I think it's good to be as understanding as possible of their cultural backgrounds and traditions. (Not accepting them, but seeking to understand . . . )

@AbbyCDEFG Preach it! Don't ever apologise for standing up for equality. Have pride in being yourself and supporting those who still feel chained by the beliefs of others. Religion and science have always been manipulated to exclude and oppress minorities - whether it be other races, religions, beliefs, genders, ages and now sexuality and gender identity.

@MidniteAngel Bae strikes again

That night they told me i should withdraw my application from the exchange student program even though i already passed the process

It's my fault because I never said anything

I never told you I was hurting

You never knew that it's the only thing I'm looking forward to

I thought it was going to be my salvation

But I was only getting my hopes up

It's my fault because I always think about myself

I can't sit for long at the dinner table because it's so damn hard

It's so damn hard to suck up my tears

I can't talk because I know I'll just break down

Nobody wants drama in this house

I don't want to give it to anyone of you

I don't want to be bothersome

But that's all I'll ever amount to

I'll never be enough

I know it's driving you crazy that I'm upset

Don't worry about me

I'm just trying to cope up with the pain

I'm not mad at you

Because no matter how much I wanted to

I cannot

Because it's the crappiest thing I could ever do

It's just not right

You could hate me all you want

It's okay

I hate myself too

I hate it very much

I believe I'm better off dead

Is love like this, or is this like love:

I feel a tingle in my tummy

Because you are just like honey

You are shining gold and sweet

You are everything I need

Im just so glad youre by my side

When you smile or scream or cry

Youre as beautiful as the bluest skies

You are cute

Yes, you are mine.

Luckily

Love it. If only i could feel it...

We're not even close to perfection

When you're caught up in the moment

Not thinking, numb

You drink the poison

The pain, it stops

Your miseries have ended

Someone else's just started

You can hide, yet you will never be able to run from it

Don't fabricate

Don't be ashamed

Get help, we all need it.

i hope you guys like my poem and I hope I'm posting them correctly:p

In Pieces

TRIGGER WARNING: Child Sexual Abuse

you are a storm
tearing my skin
bruising my bones
breaking me down
penetrating me deeply
making me undesirable
spoiled and unwanted
the world does not need me

i am used up damaged goods
and i pay his price

now i am uninhabitable
a wasteland
made of ashen skin and tired bones
longing to run free
but i can hardly walk
i am the aftermath of a violent storm
the morning after
stern eyes are looking at me
silencing, condemning, shaming
through the thin veil of humanity
there is none
he's looking at the devastation
useless wreckage
broken parts that cannot be remedied
because you say i'm not worth the effort
of a meaningful "i love you"
and a willingness to stop

what does that even mean?
have you stripped it of its meaning?
define it for me

if home really is where the heart is
let her be your sanctuary
she will fill your soul with beauty
bless you with goodness and grace
give you every piece to show you we are worthy
we're one in the same, yet nothing alike
but you live inside us
you make us your home
now all of our constellations are your playground

in the world of never never land
we've never been so terrified
though we're not allowed to run away

this child cannot escape you

you stole her away with a smile
you said it was our special time
a secret relationship, a secret game
"if you really love me..."

we still love you
we have to make you happy

because we want to
we need to
because it hurts us when you're mad
because we have to obey you
we have to respect you
we cant ever say no
we never earned that right

i can't keep going on like this

i remember you said the stars aren't nearly as bright as my eyes
but there isn't any sparkle left
all our wishes were wasted on someone to save us
no one ever did
you killed our shining stars
you took away our hope

and i still believe you
after all these years
i breathe you in
like inhaled cigarettes
i'm wrought with guilt
buried in shame
drowning in despair
and i'm burning inside
i'm burning alive
i regret every day that i survive you

Breathtaking. Sad. Absolutely brilliant.

Thank you @braveSugar7964. I'm very glad you liked the poem and it resonated with you.

Wow. I am in love with this poem.

Thank @toughOak8715. I am honored that you like it so much and that these words resonated with you in some way.

There is only so much will in a person.

When the will is gone, there is no finding the way, anymore.

The way is blinded by the lack of will.

Since will is gone, they will soon be gone, blinded by will.

Sick of Me

If it's possible to be someone else, then may the stars align and let it happen.

If it's possible to cure the sickness of me, then let it be so.

I feel myself itching on the inside, waiting to jump out of my skin and into sanity.

I must be broken, and in my brokenness I must cut the feet that walk over my shattered pieces. And what use is something broken, unless you're willing to spend the time to help me back together again.

I'm screaming for someone to cure me of the miasma of me. I can feel the caustic bacteria festering in my brain, and eating at my heart.

I can feel my blood curdle, like milk, and just like curdled milk, it's useless, like me.

I'm too broken, and trodden, and disgusting for happiness to reach me. I guess it's hard to see me beneath my self prescribed mask of mud, or through the doctor-prescribed medicated silence.

Who can love an pen that's sick of its ink. Or a violin sick of its string?

I'm nothing more than a desperate raindrop, falling from a great height, wishing to wash back into the sea, and to become a new me.