vent
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If she were a pot she’d be boiling to the rim.If her hair was her ego she could use a little trim.She should watch her words and make sure she doesn’t blurt,or else she knowsshe’s in for a world of hurt. If she were a balloon, she’d be overinflate
When I was young I loved playing and especially hid-and-seek
I would hide in the closet (she didn't know, but she was in more ways than one)
It's my friends
It’s when they no longer wait for me
It’s being moved to a different group
It’s third wheeling in a relationship they don’t recognize
i was 8 maybe 9
he was my best friend
youve herad it before
the child trusts the boy
the boy starts out good
he cared
i like that
the called me cute
i bushed
he groped me
Oh how the pain
It’s sad and hard to be a young trans boy
No one thinks I’m a real man
Everyone wishes I would die already
Everyone calls me a girl
I’m sick
Take me back
please.
All this wisdom has made me weary.
Like a sickness,
it's etched into my lungs.
And like rust,
it blooms between my joints.
When you leave me, I feel my throat close
my air leaves my lungs and they colaps
I feel suffocation creeping in
it hurts, it hurts
how could you make me feel this way?
When I lose, I can't breathe
Whoopee, new material!!
(New poem, but old frustration... to anybody who can suggest
NOTE: It's a vent poem, please be respectful
Hey.
Everyone makes mistakes.
But it's too much.
Everyone can make mistakes all the time, all the world
But that's too much.
...
I stay up at night
why am I always in fright
I try my best to succed.
but it never goes right.
I lost someone dearest
I never stay fearless
I live in a game, taking the blame
Blossoming remorseSage scented liesBlank minds begging to be divorced from themselvesDiscouraged by the aroma of the room.
I have never doubted the ability
of a womans rage, and
the floppy arc of a chosen mans
black leather belt
marring my skin with the days when
I was bad, but you were good
I gave myself lines
Because I didn't know
I gave myself lines
Because I needed pain
Something other than the
Pain in my head
In my heart
I gave myself lines
SometimesI am a lost causeSomeone who is Too depressingToo anxiousToo broken Too far gone In the silence that isMy own frayed mindAnd you don't wantThat mind receiving
To vent is to relieve yourself
To benefit one’s personal health
To hold things in you are at risk
So let it out
Do not resist
Cry, whisper, shout, speak
Don’t hang on
I can't. I can't. I can't.
It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
Strangling me.
Suffocating me.
Clawing at my heart.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Why can't you just see it?
You're insignificant.
Useless.
Unwanted.
Just a speck of dust that's a stupid little nuisance to everyone.
I knock.
No-one answers.
I peep through the window, no-one is there.
Silence.
I try the handle.
Locked.
Nothing inside.
Nothing at all.
Here I sit.
I want to move, yet I'm completely powerless.
Imprisoned by myself, I'm yours to shape, sculpt, cut and destroy.
A Letter to My Mom:
Mom, did you know?
Did you know it was your time?
You couldn't let me know I wouldn't see you when the sun shines?
You couldn't call me to your room and ask me why dishes were in the sink?
The first time I ever cried tears of stress in front of my dad went the way I expected.
Scarlet romantic aura permeates
the essence of my being, a feeling half
incomprehensible to my own psyche.
Waiting beneath the soft, silky embrace of candlelight,
To you, I gave the world,
Yet to I, you saw no such need.
Under the worst of circumstances, we met,
I, being a mess bent on self-destruction, and you, a loner.
To you, I gave you my world,
To you, I gave the world,
Yet to I, you saw no such need.
Under the worst of circumstances, we met,
I, being a mess bent on self-destruction, and you, a loner.
To you, I gave you my world,
White noise, black noise
roaring, shuddering, nonsensical
silence.
It's loud, isn't it?
There's always something to
listen to.
So why hasn't anyone
My headphones are already loud
But I turn up the noise
in an effort to ignore
the turmoil downstairs
I don't mean to listen
I don't want to listen
I'd rather not but
She is happy, she is sad.
She is excited, she is afraid.
She is confident, she is scared.
She is loved, she is alone.
My eyes are hungry
Desire is just one thing
Ona list that is endless
A misfit maybe that's it
A virus taunting me to slit
My own throat in order to quit
Quitter hoping for admiration
1000 memories and they’re all colored blue
and the darkest shade appeared the day I met you
I never thought much of it, never bothered me nun
Shake and bake you toke and bake
We talk until we see the rising sun
It must feel great that your life has a soundtrack
Forget responsibilities, you'd rather sit back
Relax, just be a character not claiming any agency
How are you your own side role? Wake up, you ain't no baby
NO ONE'S HANDS ARE GOING TO BE ROUGH LIKE YOURS
NO ONE'S LIPS ARE GOING TO BE CHAPPED LIKE YOURS
NO ONE IS GOING TO ASK ME FOR THING LIKE YOU
NO ONE IS GOING TO WRITE ME SONGS LIKE YOU
You know stress?
Worry?
That panic that grips your chest and rips you apart in the middle of the night?
Because thinking about the future incites this feeling of needing to explode because you're not ready.
The memories burn bright, illuminating my soul and keeping me up in the night. Your boisterous yet inspiriting voice dances around in my mind by choice.
I don't think I love you.
I don't think I can.
My broken takes up too much space,
To make room for a man.
Thanks for showing me that I don't fucking need you,
That I should not have been so naive
I should of known you can change your mind whenever you wanted
That the sweet words you said were just to get you by
The girl screams wolf,
And we all arrive,
To find no dog but her reprise.
She lazily asks for a cup of tea,
Ungrateful in our company.
So we turn away to our own lives,
Warning her not to spout lies.
Listen you say to get an A
and do your work to succeed
you say to ask questions about things i don't understand
because there are no stupid questions
but here I am infront of you
I hope to dream a perfect dream,
A dream where my sleep is not disturbed.
I hope to live a successful life,
A life where I can live happily.
I want to give my children things,
it’s hard to love when you don’t even love yourself
you have some problems but too afraid to ask for help
you don’t want this to be the reason why you take your last breath
Maybe there are icicles on your tongue
maybe your tonsils are the poles
maybe you can't help the bitter frostbitten breath you bark at me.
Bottled up with emotion sadness running deeper than the ocean hatred and love such a thin line between both sometimes it is the cause of maturities lack of growth i love you I do but these situations life throws makes it seem like I hate you feeli
