sad poetry

The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.

howling.. Content Warning.
Surprise attacks The fox's claws are halfway lodged through my throat Unclenching the muscles won't help now Nor will removing the palms pressed to where my Adam's Apple would be
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Poets
The Weight of an Unsent Letter
I found your name in the quiet rain, A soft reminder, sharp with pain, The ink had blurred, yet still it stayed, Like truths too heavy to be displayed.
By Emma about a year ago in Poets
When the Moon Forgot to Shine
The night was heavy, the air was still, A shadow clung to the windowsill, The stars looked on but dared not speak, While the moon grew faint, and pale, and weak.
By Emma about a year ago in Poets
The House Where Seasons Wait
There’s a house at the edge of the fading lane, Its windows pressed with dust and rain, The paint is cracked, the roof leans low,
By Emma about a year ago in Poets
The Phantom Embrace
The world feels a ghost, A room where a chair is gone, Not empty, just changed. A sweater still holds A scent the mind can't forget,
By Karl Jacksonabout a year ago in Poets
What Do You Feel?
My biggest fears pop around but I can't bring myself to face them. I used to love to chase them, guess its time I embrace them....
By Anonymous Writer 378about a year ago in Poets
Detachment. Content Warning.
The room was anechoic, yet his words echoed… surely he knows this. But to oppose his psychosis of course he would notice.
By Caitlyn Wenzelabout a year ago in Poets
I Never Asked You
The night the call came, I watched the ceiling fan carve the dark into pieces. The words slid through the phone like oil under a door—
By Iris Obscuraabout a year ago in Poets
Things Left Where They Were
I still hear the kettle sigh in the kitchen, the way it used to when we were too tired to speak. You’d lean against the counter,
By Brie Boleynabout a year ago in Poets
🤡 the clown, in the mirror.
My Looking Glass Am i a clown? Cause all i can do is frown. I cant even see me, walking around, all i see is fun mirrors looking back at me with distorted pictures of what could be me? But doesnt feel right to me. I know god, and can feel god but where is god?
By Blackwood the Teenage Witchabout a year ago in Poets
The Night Didn’t Come
The Night Didn’t Come The sky held its light too long, as if the sun refused to leave, shadows stretched thin but never deep,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Blue Psyche
If I didn't peer within, all would be well, I'm sure. His seasoned features spoke volumes, I could tell, of journeys, and of wonder.
By Sun Beeabout a year ago in Poets