@Annie thank you so much, sorry for the late replies, 7 cups does notify me but idk where to find the tags because they don't direct to it. I've always been grateful of your supportive and honest feedback.

I think and I listen,
I scream and I cry,
None of which you're seeing,
For you're nowhere near my side.

But if we were sitting,
on each other's lap,
None of it would cross your eyes,
For none of it shows outside.

I wish you would listen,
hold me and sigh,
of course you were seeing,
for I'm always on your mind.

But for it to happen,
right here and right now,
I'd have to be dreaming,
for you're nowhere in sight.

@DuckBook

This poem touches a core feeling, a truth. Thanks for sharing your work.

This is my body. It is covered in sores and scars from when I had them before and yes they do still hurt.

But the hurt is the pain of them picking at my scabs asking why I don't just stop picking them myself.

And I can't tell them that it doesn't hurt when I do it it's just impulse like a third kiss. And they scrutinize my skin asking if I'm on drugs or if I have a sickness. Yes I have a sickness it's you and they're quick-to-judge-I-can't-help-you-but-I'm-curious-mentality. How they stare at my wounds and not at my eyes which are not the windows to my soul but they contain it.

My eyes are my telescopes, they let me see galaxies in other's. My eyes are my judgment and my scrutiny but they are also my love because I see you and my red and purple decorated body tightens and my heart which lets me see further temporarily stops. My feet take the weight of my heart and move me towards you because you see my galaxies instead of my individual stars.

Because my stars are my flaming Cardinal spots and my scars are the debris left behind when they die. Or heal and those are synonyms because to die is to be born as a scar on the universe's back.

Your scar travels around in your loved ones cortex's and in their brains they see your stars and they push them away because you are so much more than your scarlet circles of festering fire. This fire fuels my soul which is my eyes and when the fire runs out they can see your debris through they're telescopes and when they do they will name it and find it stunning.

@Flowersofevil

I love the innovative imagery! This poem has substance.

Now

When there is space and time…
Awful things creep in my mind
Lingering at night in bed
My thoughts fill with dread

@TiredWithJoy

I love the interior exploration here and the process of discovery that takes place. Also, the technical aspects are impressive as well. Congratulations on such fine work.

The flower meadow was in full bloom. The daisies were popping up and giving the meadow a yellow life. The poppies were randomly plotted around in clusters, like little families in a neighbourhood. The rocks were covered in frog green moss, attached like best friends. The blue bells were swaying in the wind, and I half hoped one would ring like a real bell. The buttercups were shining like gold and were waiting to be picked. The snowdrops were hanging in the wind, and if I didn't know better I would have thought they were sad and needed cheering up. A hare popped up out of its burrow and dashed to munch on one of the buttercups. I sat down to make a Daisy chain like in elementary school and scout for four leaved clovers. Oh how nice, the wind smelled like sweet flowers.

@Firepenguin711 how pretty! It's like a lovely fairytale scene! Thank you.

Thanks! I was hoping it would seem like a fairytale.

[Trigger warning, suicide]

I've been wondering for a long hours now

Why I'm sitting here in a corner of a room

Looking at myself on that bed

Void of any breath or a tiniest pulse

O...that's right, I was dead...

I wonder what they will do with that lifeless body of mine

Will they just buried me with black clothes that probably not my ideal size

Holding the rosary that isn't my usual praying beads( as if I ever even pray)

In a coffin with design that isn't suit to my liking?

I wonder who will come to my funeral

Will it only be the relative of my parents whom I rarely spoken to

Will my friends even come to pay me a last respect

Or will they just texting among them with my death as topic

Heck, will they even know I'm dead?

I wonder what kind of words everyone will say about me

What kind of nice but nonsense words they will say out of formality

What kind of graceful but empty words the priest will say

What kind of honest words will everyone say when they barely even know me

I wonder where they will buried my remain

Will they put some decoration or just a plain wooden cross with my name

Who will even visit my grave

Will they bring flowers or at least offering some prayers

How long will they even remember me

I wonder if they really know my dying last words

If they really know my true dreams and ambition

If they really understand my inner feeling

Do they really even know me as I am aside my name?

Well then, I guess that isn't important anymore

As now I'm waiting for someone to pick me up

I wonder which side will pick me

The happily ever after of heaven

Or the everlasting fire of hell

Because the last sensation I felt while being alive

Is the choking at my neck and me gasping for air

I must be very good at tying knot then

At least I have something to be proud about.

@Junerodas

A very compelling poem. Haunting.

You

@astuteScorpius

Initially, I liked this short poem for its lyrical rhythm and accessible imagery. Then I realized there's more going on. More complexity. I like it a lot!

Scream

For pain
For passion
For people
For problems

For you
For me
For us
For them

For future
For past
For now
For that

Scream for our true colors

@kindPlace131

This poem has a lot of power. The words are simple but the rhythm builds, and the ultimate message feels like an anthem, a call for truth.

So embarrassed to share my Spoken Word Poetry here. But here it is:

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1LcVqVrcOLl

No need to be embarrassed. You sounded lovely. Good poem too! ☺️

I'm working on being brave enough to share some of my creative ideas and endeavors with my friends. Very encouraging to see you share.

@RenStorm you have a lovely voice, and I loved the poem! Thanks for sharing.

X

Thank you both.

"In the shades of night, past will be there to make you feel lonely again, it will bring all the moment and things you want to forget. You will feel like you are only sinner. And the forsaken one. But over come that you will be someone new."- thenomad007

The Dragon

A few years ago I dreamt about being popular
Gaining friends
Being pretty
I dreamt about when I would be the cutest girl in school when I grew up
Great clothes
Nice people

A few years ago..I met a dragon
He told me he was my only friend
My only thought
My only reason to live
He told me I was hated
I was ugly
I was different
The dragon told me I didn't belong in this world
That I wasn't wanted
Needed
Loved
The dragon told me I hated myself
He told me I thought I was just another problem
That I was never loved
The dragon became my only friend
The dragon became my only hope
The dragon became..my life

In a few years I dream of coming home from work
Kissing my love
Holding my child
I dream of having a family
Friends
A life to call my own
I dream to become what I want to be
What I always have
What I always needed

In a few years I'll hold up my sword
The one I got from the dragon
The one I could never use
I'll hold it up like I never had
I'll make it to where the dragon can never hurt me again
I'll conquer it and leave it sprayed across my life
In bits and pieces
Little slices of hardships
In a few years I'll look back at what i was
Broken
Afraid
In a few years I'll look back at the dragons body
The dragon that nearly killed me
The dragon I didn't fear anymore
The dragon I survived

@DragonSlayer23

This poem is inspiring. That dragon can be a destroyer, but you have the sword of truth and can slay it. Awesome.

Conversations with the Heart - A Poem to Myself

Every little detail adds up.

Like puzzle pieces Put together

For a bigger picture to be seen,

That'll last you now and forever.

Every fall to the ground

Every stumble across the way

Will all make sense maybe not now

Some other fine day.

Every slash across the heart,

Every rip within your mind

Could very well be

Your very reason to shine.

So hold your ground

And dig deep within,

You're losing now,

But baby, someday you're bound to win.

Set your gaze up high

The pain you bear, no body knows

You've got a story to tell

'Bout how your journey goes.

Your every struggle

And painful stops you've had

Put you where you are now,

A magnificent and glorious path.

So take pride in your courage

And the will to fight it all

Not many make it through

Not many can still stand tall.

@Duff26

Wow, this shines.

@odetopie20

An amazing poem. To be able to reject and disregard the hurtful judgments of others takes real strength and vision.

Thrown away heart

I saw it laying

Peace for peace

On the dirty floor

Full of scars

It has be trampled on

It was ripped apart

Not a signal of life

It was handled careless

Overflow with dripping blood

That must have been the tears

For the thing you known as heart

She was standing in front of me

It was me

A hole in my chest

Showing where the thing has come from

On my knees I fell

Dying in my own tears of blood

@wisperpoetry

You make the pain so vivid and real in this poem.

I hope the wound is healing.

Loved or not??

They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all but what if you never had enough courage to take that first step, that first fall? Would it even be worth it at all?

@lynsay31

It was Tennyson who said that about love in his poem "In Memoriam," about his friend who died.

In several poems, he dealt with the comparative value of suffering pain versus a life free of suffering. Keats also explores this issue of how to cope with terrible pain and whether there is any meaning or value in suffering and loss.

Thanks for reminding me of some of my favorite poetry.

Lie???

Sometimes people leave, sometimes people die, sometimes people make you cry but it's worse when people lie. They've hurt you and you don't even know why. It's like a sad song that you can't erase or your own sad story that you can't escape. Maybe it's your own mistake for believing in their deceiving eyes??

@lynsay31

Your poem shares a lot of truth. Lies and deceit can be devastating.

Emotions are already used for marketing.

Emotions is the core of how most businesses sell.

It's the emotional connection of a person towards a moment with an object that causes it to have value.

So why are we still not taught how to handle our emotions like business people?

Nobody taught us,
how hard it is to love.
How it is an investment of time and energy
That can potentially affect your way of thinking
If not used wisely.

Nobody taught us,
that love is give and take
that love is an equal balance
of sharing, of respect.

Nobody taught us,
that love can have limits,
that love is not equivalent to push those limits, and risk self worth.

Nobody taught us anything,
of what love can do.

Or maybe someone did,
Like a concerned mother
Or a strict father
Or apprehensive friends,
Or your bitter aunt,


But the way we learn things, the way we refused to listen
The way we kept choosing to have our feelings ride us,
instead of the other way around.

Has caused us our ruin.


And the ruin of this person we thought would be our other half.

It was never about half and half.

It's two whole pieces,

that mold together to make a bigger piece.

It was never about completion.

It was about multiplying the force you both have, by being complete individuals, together.

Broken people cannot do this.


Broken people cannot expect this from each other.

Broken people demand, they whine, they beg.

Broken people expect.

Broken people don't even know what they personally want.


And yet they keep choosing partners like it was a soul on sale.


Then wonder what went wrong after some time.

Dear @weepingartist, this is amazing. It really made me think.

I love this part about choosing:

"The way we kept choosing to have our feelings ride us,
instead of the other way around. Has caused us our ruin."

And the concept of the soul on sale. So true.

A lotta truth here.

@Annie thanks!...I've just gone through a break-up recently. Writing these freestyle poetries helps me think about what happened to us in a balanced way...

@weepingartist

Yes! When our hearts are full to bursting with pain, writing from the depths of our hearts--it can help.

For me, it is your raw honesty that gives so much power to your poems.

This is fantastic. It gave me chills...

@helloSea4767 thank you :)

I will do as you ask me, Your Majesty.

I will die as you wish.

Cursing whom I love more.

Worshiping the traitors.

Only then I'll be ready.

Only then will you be satisfied.

I don't want my mental illness to run my life. I'm always fighting, but sometimes it wins.

@YourStormWillPass, This is so powerful.

Being compelled to worship the traitors . . . Gah.

This poem grabbed me in the guts.

(I love your member name. The storm does pass. Our best selves can run things.)