sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Shattered Mirrors
‘Mirrors symbolise the threshold between the conscious and unconscious mind’ All the mirrors around me, infinitely smooth,
What's That Smell
Do you remember the first car you got for me when I was in high school? It was a Monte Carlo. I remember thinking that it looked like something an old lady might drive. Boy was I wrong after my first ride I knew that my car and I were destined for each other. I know you told me that I was to only drive to school and back. I had promised that I would, but something or someone convinced me otherwise even though I remember there were consequences if I didn't follow the rules you had given me. If at any point I used the car for any other reason than for school, you would send my car back to the car dealership, so easy set of rules to follow, I thought. We´ll somehow I let my friends talk me into taking her for a joyride one night. We will be back before she even notices that you´re gone my best friend says reassuring me. I remember getting to Padre Island and just punching the gas making all kinds of doughnuts in the sand. Yes, we were drinking some but I was driving and I made sure not to get drunk. That was my way of stating that there´s no defiance here. In all the fun, the laughter, and beer drinking I somehow lost control of the wheel and hit a dune. Holy shit I fucked up now is what went through my mind and out my mouth. We all got out to see the damage that I made to the car. I sure did pray to any gods at that time. Hear me he did there was no damage to the car. All we had to do was clean the sand out of the car and close the trunk. As hard as we hit that damn sand the trunk opening is all that really happened, after all, it was just sand. It took the rest of the night to clean the car but I had it back in the garage with an hour to spare. Everything was as it should be or so I thought. Never in a million years would I have guessed what happens next. Now you know how the fish got into the trunk, mom. I remember the confused look on your face when my uncle told you it was a fish that was stinking up the garage in the trunk of the car added to your confused look. My only regret in all this mom is that I´m telling you the truth finaly but your not here to hear it no matter how loud I scream it. I miss you ,Mom.
Rose RosalesPublished 2 years ago in PoetsBound
I am driven, but have no purpose. I seem like a calm before the storm. I am so sensitive, I feel others pains. I want to help, but I cannot heal what is not within reach.
Danahae BarracloughPublished 2 years ago in PoetsOverthinker
My minds evolving Or getting more lost, With no consideration For the sanity it’s cost. Unrealistic theories It strings together,
a letter to lost joy
Hey joy A friend asked me today To write you a letter I told him I would, so here we are My friend asked me to think About what it is that's missing
Starlight StormPublished 2 years ago in PoetsLet me be
“CDO,” you say, joking If you call it that, You don’t know what it’s like At least not for me You might think you’re funny
Starlight StormPublished 2 years ago in PoetsFriends
You say To focus on homework And not let my mind go astray You ask Are you online with friends If you are, get off now – back to work
Starlight StormPublished 2 years ago in PoetsForever Alone
I have no ambition. People always tell me to be optimistic. Then maybe I can escape this intense sadness. But they don’t know what it’s like to be born miserable.
Jada AlstonPublished 2 years ago in PoetsFitting In
I remember that day as clear as if it were now You, sending me to camp Telling me to be good Play nice Make friends
Paul GarlandPublished 2 years ago in PoetsC Marsh B Warne
And now ladies and gentlemen We come to you live from the HCG The best and fastest wicket This side of purgatory
Trainwreck
you can tell by her lies and the look in her eyes she's a trainwreck you can tell by her sighs and all the fakes highs she’s a trainwreck
To be free
Is it the trees that fascinate me Or the change of color in the sky Perhaps the thought of running wild
Ascella NahumPublished 2 years ago in Poets