Andrew

Ignorance and stubbornness is everything of you,

Treating her like a slave is true.

Her time, energy and love is what you consume,

Leaving me with nothing, but her gloom.

Blame is what you give to her for all she helps you with,

Saying all your problems she made forthwith.

All she does is not good enough in her eyes,

Still, she will do anything to please you until her demise.

I’ll never understand what she sees in you whom is so cruel,

Someone who cheats and lies; you’re some tool.

One day soon she’ll leave you,

Then all you will feel is rue.

Finally she’ll be free and abloom,

And leave you alone to suffer your doom.

Once again we’ll be happy as goldsmiths,

Our memories of you will be only myths.

I hope your tears for her never dries,

Feel all the pain we felt from your lies.

This fantasy of mine is my fuel,

To get me through my life that you made into a whirlpool.

Emotional Loneliness My Personal Life Pain Poetry

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

Sleep

My mind is always going,

Wether I’m depressed or glowing.

It’s overanalizing everything I hear,

Making me wish I’d just disappear.

It’s second-guessing all my decisions,

And wariness of all in my visions.

It never stops, never ever.

It drives me into insanity,

But, there’s one thing that saves my humanity.

A thing that everyone does everyday,

A simple thing called sleep keeps my mind a bay.

God, how I love sleep,

It make me not feel like a sheep.

I can forget every problem without a care,

In my dreams my true colors can flare.

Those good night sleeps are the only time,

That I am sincerely happy for a quicktime.

 

 

 

 

 

My Personal Life Poetry

What If

What if someone already wrote this?

What if I post too many things at once?

What if I don’t post enough?

What if my writing’s too generic?

What if no one reads it?

What if I made mistakes?

What if I’m not a good writer?

What if I just stopped writing?

What if they can’t tell what I’m writing about?

What if I accidentally offended someone?

What if I lose all my writing?

What if this doesn’t make sense?

What if I never become a noticed writer?

What if someone hates my writing?

What if… I stopped being paranoid?

Would I be able to write something that feels original?

Would I be able to post as many things as I want?

Would I be able to not posts things for a few days?

Would I be able to write something comepletly unique?

Would I be able to overlook how many views I have?

Would I be able to write something flawless?

Would I be able to not care if I’m a good writier or not?

Would I be able to never stop writing again?

Would I be able to write things that gave people meaning?

Would I be able to make someone feel good about themselves?

Would I be able to make my writing last forever?

Would I be able to write carefree?

Would I be able to become a well-liked writer?

Would I be able to write something everyone loved?

Would I be able to… be content about my writing?

What if I could stop asking myself these questions?

Would I be able to see through my strengths and weaknesses?

Monologue My Personal Life Poetry