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Jeremy Betts Apr 25
Depths of despair
Hang thick in the air
Almost daring me to care
And step into it's crosshair
Not realizing I'm aware
I've lived that nightmare
Been caught up in that snare
Somehow pushed past the warfare
Came through worse for wear
But it no longer has power
Over someone who can't care
Forcing it to find it's next victim elsewhere

©2024
Steve Page Apr 23
I met a tortured poet
In sequins and despair
Her torture was unusual
She's now a billionaire.
Reading about Taylor Swifts new album, The Tortured Poets Department.
A seed of Love that never found
The hallowed path to fertile ground,
The fruitless trees, the orchard bare ---
Bitter pain of unanswered prayer

A tired heart, trampled by Love's feet
Dolefully yields in utter defeat;
No eyes gaze upon its despair.
Although unseen, the pain is there

An outstretched hand that no one holds
As night's obsidian cloak unfolds;
Mournful sobs permeate the air---
O, what pain! And no one to share

Hours of blissful happiness
Followed by guile's fatal caress;
Wretched pain of Love's sad farewell . . .
O, what stories the past could tell!

Though such reminiscing brings regret,
Still, the heart whispers "Never forget,"
And so to Love's treachery we're resigned,
And journey on  . . .  with pain close behind
From one night,
To daylight,
My mind in a haze.
My body in a daze,
My soul full of shame.
As not one moment,
Can I live in present.

For past,
Is where I stay.
There is nothing but darkness here
And rot that fills the air,
Every day I cross murals of my yesterday
And memories I cannot bear,
Dwindling and shattering asking
To why I'm so fragile.
Fragile
I've lived inside a broken shell,
Cracked and leaking
spilling on those who come too close,
I always run away
But no matter how far I go
I cannot escape my fate.
Fate
That binds me to this self-loath
Where flies are my only friends,
This stench that I cannot endure
But now I know too well,
A slave to my misery
A king of this empty hell.
Hell
To offer up my life to the noose
that hangs around my neck,
never tight enough to end this
But with every breath I clench
Reminds me of my worthlessness.
Worthlessness
A burden to my own mind
A wall to my questions of being
Hollow yet overflowing
I've seen enough to know
This tunnel has no end in sight
The light has failed to reach what’s inside.
The Myth of Sisyphus was a heavy read, and I am not recovering from it.
Hunter Dec 2023
It commenced not in the ordinary,
No, it carried a profound yearning,
A yearning to be cherished, not reviled,
To be esteemed, not deemed average,
To experience something, not nothing.

Gradually, it evolved beyond that,
Becoming my sole wellspring of joy,
Aware of the inherent imbalance,
Yet, akin to all my remorseful attachments,
I found myself unable to let go.

Indeed,
The concept of letting go eluded me,
A foreign notion, seemingly distant,
Yet, akin to the frigid days of February,
I understood it would conclude someday,
Nonetheless, I persisted,
Holding on tenaciously.

As the days stretched out,
Snow gave way to melting streams,
Blooms emerged from their wintry cocoon,
And akin to the scorching heat of summer,
My affection blazed brighter than stars.

Picture winning a grand lottery,
That's how it felt,
A sensation of prevailing in life,
The notion of letting go never occurred,
It seemed unnecessary.

Then came September,
A month I abhor with fervor,
When everything crumbled beneath,
Love waned,
Evaporating like recollections of better days,
And the embers of letting go flickered anew.

Fear settled in,
Reluctant to relinquish,
I convinced myself it would mend,
For I acknowledged,
I couldn't let go.

Fourteen,
Fourteen,
Fourteen,
Etched clearly in my consciousness,
That's the date it unfolded,
The day I dreaded,
The day I was compelled to let go.

Anticipated as it was,
Those phrases,
"This isn't healthy,"
"It's irreparable,"
"I'm sorry,"
Tore me asunder.

Here I am,
Penning this poem,
Still in pain,
Still shattered,
Rife with remorse.

Such is life,
A journey void of utopian conclusions,
A cycle that persists,
Until the day we depart,
Until the day we dissolve,
Until the day we finally let go."
B Nov 2023
Your mom still calls me pretty
even though I pretend you don't exist.
I know I've loved you forever
built a house and a bed out of sticks
then burned it all down
like a candle to the wick.
Look at you with such admiration
and I start to feel sick.
Sealed by doom, in 2017
healed by your lips.
Seeking out a brand new lover -
it's you that I miss.
Made out of nerves like second hand china,
always shattered like this.

I hope you'll choose me
repair me, take me to your place
know this rejection is something
I must finally meet face to face.
Calling on your landline, late and weary
it's like screaming into space.
Drove around in a circle
because you always know what's right
with the windows down, I'm blinded
your smile so unbelievably white
and I wish I could stop feeling
like I'm such an ugly sight
maybe then you'd want me
and I'd have less to write.
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