Tiresome Tears

In my youth I always cried easily,

I’d cry until I was puffy and wheezily.

I’d cry over toys to over my sister,

The tears in my eyes always seemed to glister.

So many tears I’ve cried in my youth,

No one ever thought it was worth to sleuth.

 

Now as I’m a newly-born adult,

My conscious reveals to me it’s occult.

With the help of my mother and her neglect,

I have now firgured out why I’m always a wreck.

Always alone and always put last,

All of these emotional flaws have amassed.

Now the littlest things can make me cry,

From a homeless man to not having pie.

 

The saddest part is that she doesn’t know,

All the mental anguish she always bestows.

She keeps on living happily and fully,

Not knowing that in my mind she’s a bully.

So I cry more everytime she denies me love,

Until a day when my blood covers my hand like a glove.

Emotional Graphic Loneliness My Personal Life Pain Poetry

Ocean Waves

Some days they’re strong and others they’re not,

They can’t control their own plot.

Those ocean waves are but a marionette,

To what ever disturbes them yet.

The poor ocean being used and abused,

While not being able to punish the accused.

Her waves are never orderly anymore,

Always high or always low like a war.

Her want to be free from control,

Is overpowered by her inability to in a whole.

So she takes it all in,

The hurt and the happiness with a grin.

Forgetting the one who caused it all,

The moon which is too far to hear her bawl.

Emotional My Personal Life Poetry

Drip, Drip

Alone she kneels on the ice,

As liquid falls in groups of trice.

The piercing wind consumes her in it’s cold,

But it’s not the reason her emotions are so bold.

Echoes of a sound come from the icy hilltop,

Drip, drip, drop.

 

Clear and crimson circles in the snow appear,

The perfect blend of vivid and austere.

Her tears aren’t for the pain,

They are for the love she never gained.

She does this for the suffering to stop,

Drip, drip, slop.

 

A silvery blade in her hand,

Causes the blood to paint the snow that’s so bland.

Everyone tried to help her,

Except the one who could make her as she were.

Now her blood and emotions are in a glop,

Drip, drip, sob.

 

Her skin turns to the color of the snow,

And her sobbing begins to slow.

Her gray-blue eyes are hidden by her eyelids,

And her breathing is dull like her life is.

Her smile signifies her last yopp,

Drip, drip, plop.

 

 

Death Emotional Loneliness My Personal Life Poetry Twisted Meanings

Hunger

In my brumal world I have everything,

Except for the things that make me zing.

Those things one can’t touch nor see,

Mean everything to me.

I had them once before,

But now they are all like lore.

I hunger for them to be mine again,

So I can remember my zen.

They give me materials to fill the void,

But I want what they’ve destroyed.

Those things that make one feel alive,

The ones that would make me strive.

I hunger for those feelings,

I hunger for the emotions they bring.

Emotions like hope and happiness,

That kept away despair and vileness.

I’d ruin every material I have with a bat,

To once again feel an emotion like that.

Emotional Loneliness My Personal Life Poetry