sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Well Old Son: Part Four
IV Liquid fire burns but does not shine in misty night skies. In the shadows of a broken imagination, a bewildered body cowers. A simple remedy: spoonfuls of psychedelic poems stirring the sound of colour. Toxically allured by scintillating oil rainbows, more vivid and less illusional than those of pure rain.
Stevi-Lee AlverPublished about a year ago in Poetspurple
Amidst the chaos of life, Purple longed for a love that felt right, A love that would heal her wounds, And chase away the darkness that loomed.
Hammd AhtishamPublished about a year ago in PoetsThe Darkness That Lurks Behind The Smile
The Darkness That Lurks Behind The Smile Disclaimer: This poem is dark and it deals with mental health issues. It can be triggering to some. Reader discretion is advised.
The Filtered Self
Scrolling through my feed, A curated image of me I see, With filters and edits, Perfectly polished and ready to be.
Nick TomkoPublished about a year ago in PoetsThe Power of Words
Words have power beyond measure, A force that can unite or sever, They can lift us up or bring us down, And shape the world we're living in forever.
Nick TomkoPublished about a year ago in PoetsGrowth
A process that can sting, For it requires us to shed, The skin of who we were and what we said. As we grow, we leave behind,
Jazmin FernandezPublished about a year ago in PoetsJust For Context Purposes
For context: I have not been hurt I have not let it destroy me I only look like I have been Circling The Drain
Jay,when I writePublished about a year ago in PoetsStillness
If I sit still And fill the cracks Build up my bones I’ll not collapse Feelings churned And emotions ground Stir the spackle
Kristen HavemanPublished about a year ago in Poets- Top Story - April 2023
pen
i lost my favorite pen today smooth and perfect for my imperfect writing slicing through the page white on black permanent and beautiful
Change begins again
4.3.23 I am ready for something so deep that it changes me, that it unlocks all the power within me. Something that nobody’s never seen in me, a permanent glow that will never leave me. Something that turns me away from all sadness and anger buried deep inside me. All that won’t bubble to the surface at one time because of the pain that comes to mind. The agony that takes over my body as I can’t even breathe because of the anxiety, the “heavy weight” sitting on my chest full of upset. I’m ready for a new chapter that will cause me never to look back because as a matter of fact I don’t want any of that old shit back. I don’t want none of that life that I used to live. I am still angry that I still deal with the same issues from the same people that I did as a kid. The same folks who know how to make me feel small. Although I don’t think about them at all until it comes down to how they’ve treated me and made me feel. I am the main one I know fighting out of the old life that I’ve lived and the old person that I was. I know the cause of mostly all of my trauma. I need something so deep just for me. Something that prepares me to no longer explain my reality nor myself. It’s okay to ask for help but I’d rather suffer in silence by myself than to cut myself deeper from the ignorance in response from others. I have often times discovered that many are disgusted by my survival alone but they have no idea how many times I would have laid down and died just because. The dedication to misunderstanding me has been astonishing. Mentally it makes me stronger when I keep to myself. The softer side of me I’m ashamed to be they can never and could never just love nor accept me as me. Never wanting to accept better from me they just want to use and see the broken me. Astonishing, I’m over translating my soul, especially to those being easily manipulated into the oblivion. A new beginning that completes me feeling safe and healed. Putting myself back in position to win again.
HerBrownProductionsLLCPublished about a year ago in PoetsGhosts Do Not Walk
No matter how much we want ghosts to walk, they do not. No matter how much we project them on the walls, no matter how much we want to feel their weight shift,
What is Wrong with Me?
What is wrong with me? I don’t feel right what could be amiss? I don’t feel like a woman but feel feminine… But toxic masculinity has told me that I am wrong…
Vex Luther LionheartPublished about a year ago in Poets