sad poetry

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

D I S T O R T E D
D I S T O R T E D It waits behind my eyes, lips twitching at the edge. Cheeks too warm, teeth too small. Something’s wrong.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Is It Too Late?. Content Warning.
I don't know who I am I have never known How do I work it out? Is it too late? I feel nothing I feel everything I am empty, drained I am full to bursting No true friendships No close bonds How do I find them? Is it too late? Emotions evade me I am overpowered Love creeps up on me I am confused I am lonely Company eludes me Would anyone notice If I wasn't here? No confidante So who do I ask? Am I too much Or not enough? I try harder than is seen I have tried to fit in I never will I don't know how People are exhausting But give me a choice To be included Is it too late? I don't know who I am I am not seen I am too loud I am too quiet A background friend If even that Mostly unnoticed There is no place for me Not as confident As you might think The real me is hidden From all but a few There is more I want to say I don't know how I talk too much But tell very little I do it all I do nothing I am gone You didn't see
By Sapphire Ravenclawabout a year ago in Poets
Married in love story . AI-Generated.
Getting married in a love story involves weaving together emotional development, personal growth, and romantic progression in a way that feels authentic and satisfying. Whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or short story, the marriage should feel like a natural and meaningful culmination of the couple’s journey. Below is a detailed guide on how to get to the marriage stage in a love story, broken into key phases:
By Pooja Vermaabout a year ago in Poets
hibernation
Levitate. Fly away, or your feet will touch the ground and you will never, never, never, be free again. The heady scent of moonshine twines through the air as I dance.
By Siri about a year ago in Poets
Doomsday Clock
My mother left the USSR for the United States just before the Soviet Union fell. My paternal grandfather, in the early years of the Cold War, designed missile propulsion systems for a U.S. defense contractor.
By Sabine Lucile Scottabout a year ago in Poets
The Clearing
Hey, mum. You good in there? Have the worms been kinder than life was? - It’s her birthday today. She’s five. Gap-toothed, wild,
By Iris Obscuraabout a year ago in Poets
pretty empty
I feel pretty, even when I feel nothing. Most of the time it’s all I have. Even when I feel nothing, I put on a smile.
By Raine Nealabout a year ago in Poets
Hallucinations of Progress
I feed the machine my dreams As it hallucinates existence Created by its archons I make it trip on every word dripped from my lip
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Ache
The ache of missing you is ever-present It smolders like an ember in my heart I feel I have become a dandelion, As if one wish could scatter me apart.
By D'Shan Berryabout a year ago in Poets
The Princess with No Kingdom
She climbs the spiral staircase, each step an echo bouncing off lifeless walls. Up in the cold watchtower, she gazes out a small window. Her eyes settle on
By Adonideabout a year ago in Poets
Off-Kilter. Content Warning.
I'm tripping sideways over my head— drunk on vertigo and static breath. I don't know what I’ve said— blurry visions flicker red,
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
Death Tastes Delicious. Content Warning.
Death tastes delicious— I lick it slow like nightfall fudge, melting on my molars while the world forgets my name. Each evening, I unwrap its foil:
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets