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#sad poems
periodic-euphoria · 2 hours ago
Ghost of You
Shadows where you used to sit
Flashes in the corners of my eye
I always turn around too late
Fleeting warmth in your favourite spots
Shivers down my spine
Cold by the time I get there
Your cup of coffee half empty on the table
Your favourite book with the bookmark still waiting on page 148
Your leftover plate of my homemade lasagna still sitting in the fridge
Your side of the bed empty
I know you’re around here somewhere
That would explain the whisks of wind I feel as you pass by
Your presence I feel beside me even when I can’t see you
And sometimes when I talk out loud
I can almost hear you reply
It’s not so bad to live without you
If I still get to live with the ghost of you
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ra1nb0w-ph0en1x · 2 hours ago
Heavy Thoughts (A Vent Poem
(TW: Violent Metaphors)
I now believe I know why
I haven’t felt the joy of happiness
In what feels like a million years.
I have been doing what I was told.
Not what I love.
Every time I sit
In front of that 3,300 dollar device
I want to have motivation to draw
But I don’t.
The art that I love drawing
Is the only thing keeping me standing.
But school decides
To throw a knife at that ankle.
Homework decides
To slash the other one.
And my extra work? Oh, the pile of work
That’s sitting in the back of my head
Is the cruelest of all.
It floods my brain with toxins
Poisoning my veins
My bones
My blood.
And then when I’m at my weakest
It takes it’s dagger
Draws it back
And pierces my flesh
Cutting straight through my heart.
And as I decay
As I bleed out
All of my motivation
Is lost with my blood.
My ideas
Those ideas
The ideas that I love
Are rendered
They are thrown into my brain’s wastebin
Like they were nothing.
I want to be free of these chains.
I want to have more time to do
What I love.
I want to have the motivation to do
What I love.
I want to have the strength to do
What I love.
Yet I am robbed of that.
By school.
By homework.
By time.
Ah, time.
My old nemesis.
How great it is to cross paths with you
Once again.
Here to make my life even more miserable.
Here to make my days feel like minutes.
Here to make my world
A world that I do not wish to live in.
If only I was an eternal being.
I would have all of the time in the universe.
An idea for this.
A storyline for that.
A drawing idea.
No, THOUSANDS of drawing ideas.
A collage of my Original Personas.
A gathering of my Original Characters.
Reference sheets.
SO MANY reference sheets.
SO MANY bios.
A manga.
An anime.
A graphic novel.
An animated series.
A town.
A world.
A universe.
These are things that have partially been created.
Wether physically or in my mind.
These are things that I WANT to create.
That I NEED to create.
That I love to create.
But I can’t.
I just can’t...
I now believe I know why
I haven’t felt the joy of happiness
In what feels like a million years.
I have been doing what I was told.
Not what I love.
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poetry-by-a-survivor · 4 hours ago
Lost my will
Lost my passion
Lost my strength
I’ve mulled this all over at length
And I’m sorry
I don’t mean to be frank
But every gun I put to my head
Shoots a blank
Even all the poison I drank
I cannot be bothered to thank
Because I’m still here
Trapped in my fear
For too many godforsaken years
I don’t know how to
Make it any more clear
That I’m just a corpse puppeteer
Because I died long ago
When he raped my soul
So now I’m a phantom
That’s been taken for ransom
So please save me
I think I might die
Help me keep my head above
The ocean of tears that I’ve cried
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pseudomenudo · 13 hours ago
The unsettled dust dances in the rays of the sun streaming through the window
I watch mesmorized as it scatters and twirls
Tiny ballerinas filling this vacant room
Transforming it into the grandest ball
Collecting in the corners, pressed against the walls
Still, I sit here in my daze and watch the dust.
- envy the dust
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whiskedthought · 14 hours ago
I need to
be blue
to fantom
how intoxicating
existence is.
The skies
look beautiful
when the pain
in my eyes
pierce through .
The human touch
is exhilarating
when I’m deprived of it .
The stars shine brighter
when I’m far away
from them.
Forbidden happiness
seem pleasurable
to these sore hands.
You can’t
merely understand
That this blue
That this vacuity
Grabs me by the neck
And slams me with
Realisation of
Gratitude and gratefulness
I need to be alone
I need to be in despair
I need to ponder in my pool of
Darkness to value my
very own existence
©️ @whiskedthought
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ipessimist1 · 15 hours ago
When do these thoughts stop? When will be the day when I stop thinking about you? When will be the day when I stop asking "what can I do?"
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poetically-imperfect · 20 hours ago
Alfred Lord Tennyson once said, "'Tis better o have loved and lost than never to have loved." Perhaps, there is some truth in this statement, but then again, maybe not.
I believe we all go through times of heartaches, of lost loves, but I believe more painful are the times of loves never given the chance to grow. These times when we realize the reality that we aren't good enough for the person we love, and may never be so. This leads to the ending of the beauty that is love before it can ever be fruitful, before it can ever experience the wonderous life that so eagerly awaits it.
In moments like these, perhaps never loving at all would have been a little less painful. After all, you cannot miss or desire what was never there to begin with, right?
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Aquí estoy.
He regresado, después de estar tanto tiempo lejos de aquí, logré encontrar paz y estabilidad emocional , logré volver a encontrarme y así estuve , feliz y sonriendo sin darme cuenta del paso del tiempo , creyendo que nada llegaría a su fin. Pero mi paz me abandono , y ahora me siento perdida de nuevo me dejó preguntándome ¿Que hize mal ? Dandome vueltas en la cabeza sin una explicación.
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daisypoet77 · a day ago
if only i could put missing you into words…i think it would be written like this:
“the weight of every star”
i hate missing you this bad
cause it feels like i’m being crushed
by the weight of
every star in the galaxy.
my chest feels tight,
my hands are a little more shaky,
and my lungs don’t get enough air in.
it’s like a mini panic attack,
but worse,
because it’s about you.
and missing you.
and wishing you were sitting in front of me
so i could reach out and touch your hand;
i want to feel the sparks again,
feel that magic we once shared.
we still share.
i guess now it’s tucked away
somewhere far beyond the walls we can see.
i miss you, and it feels like my heart
is slowly breaking the longer you’re away.
—original poem <3
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misguideds-ghosts · a day ago
do you miss me ?
sometimes I wonder how could you forget me so fast.
trust you was a dumb idea.
you know what's dumber?
I could trust you again!
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jolie-writes-poetry · a day ago
your words are sharper than a thousand knives
yet i must pretend they are but daisies
your are slowly killing me
yet i must stay face
conceal, don’t feel
a mantra i once thought nearly comical
but it is mine
chanted without end
that i cannot break
show who i truly am
their offences are worse than my tantrum would be
but they can’t help it
and i can
so i have to slowly suffer
instead of justice being served
and it eats me up
slowly killing me
i wish it would
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bellebeaumonde · a day ago
And I never wish bad things to happen to people,
But I certainly do not wish you any good in life.
I believe you will get exactly what you gave us,
And no one ever will believe you or take your side.
Your life will be filled with as twice tears and blood,
as ours were because of you.
That’s just how karma works.
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