[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.

Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.

They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.

It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.

Th

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.

For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.

Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.

Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.

Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.

To a judging stream near the g

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 728 bytes more ▶

More from ~LovelyZ

Strike Of The PenThe black ink smears across the paper,
It curves and turns to make small letters.
They form lyrics,
Which tell not just a story, but mine.

With a flick of the pen,
Another line is printed.
The poem is beautiful,
And not just because of the fine lettering.

The ink drips down my pale skin,
Making it seem like I am the paper.
It could be true,
For I do tell a story.

My poetry is not just me,
I am my poetry.

Last BreathThe end will come,
The darkness will fall,
And the light will flicker.
The end is coming.

Every day is a day,
Getting closer to our falling.
To our fate,
For everybody has an end to their story.

I hate it when people say,
The world will end.
For in my opinion,
The world will end for me,

When my last breath is out.

Just a BotherMaybe they just want me away,
I could just be trouble waiting to happen.
I might be just a lost thought,
With no one who really wants me in sight.

I could've been alone,
I might be now.
Just another one who is still trying,
To not annoy.

I might be just a simple bother,
Something for you to say to go away,
To leave them alone.
Am I?

I might be a toy,
A thing that you may throw out at any time,
I was for some.
Am I for you?

Am I really that bad,
That you had to shadow me away from everyone else?

Hope Is A Small FlickerJust a small flicker,
Nothing special,
Nothing big.
Just a fleck of light.

It disappears often,
But always comes when needed.
But for me,
It is nothing but always a flicker.

It is what we think,
When all is lost.
When darkness has taken over,
But darkness is not all bad.

It glimmers bright for some,
And never comes for others.
It chews at you,
In a wish to have it.

Sometimes I want it,
But usually, I know it will never come.

UnseenJust another fading shadow,
Never seen, Never heard.
Nobody will ever really see me,
For me.

They can never read me,
I am never open.
And if so,
Just a crack of light will shine through.

I sit in the back,
Writing my emotions out in these poems.
Thinking of how they might see me,
If they even do.

Slightly talking,
Trying to keep my head down,
Just in case my name is said.
It isn't very often.

I am just a small flicker of light,
In the darkness,
Not seen well, But sometimes,
It's just enough.

I am not just unseen anymore,
I am invisible.

EverYou find me weak,
You find me small and useless.
I am not.
You don't understand.

You say I am Ugly,
Maybe your right.
But I believe that my looks are not what defines me,
You still don't understand.

I am not perfect,
I pour my emotions into words on paper,
And my thoughts into lyrical poems that piece together.
You will never understand.

Understanding is not just knowing,
It is seeing it their way.

You still, will never, Understand.

Ever.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself

Details

Submitted: December 29, 2012
File Size: 728 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 2
Favourites: 5 [who?]
Views: 22 (0 today)
Downloads: 1 (0 today)

[x]

Love's Torture When Dead

by ~LovelyZ, Dec 29, 2012, 10:05:17 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

The hand grasps my soul,
The feeling rips at my side and stomach till I can no longer breath.
It's cold hand pricks my heart,
Making my gasps of pain more real.

I scream in frustration as it whispers in my ear,
"Love is beautiful" some will say.
I think it is a one way ticket to hell.
Especially when you are still unsure about what love is.

Loves cold body wraps around me,
Choking my breath.
I bite my tongue so hard that it bleeds,
I will not be saying anything now.

Love when dead is just a thing that makes us cry,
And die on the inside.

Love's Torture When Deadby ~LovelyZ

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Love can not be torture, but when someone dies. That you love, it is. Some of you might have read this and thought me wrong but I only meant it as loss, and struggle in the time.

Enjoy and Please comment!

~LovelyZ Dec 30, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

thank you for the comment and a very good suggestion. next poem I will try to explain it a bit more

~winterkate Dec 30, 2012 Student Writer

Hm...........I think that there's a lot of really great content in this work, but it's waiting to be freed. I love the 'love is a one-way ticket to hell' - that's really unique and personal. I think you should really continue in that vein, maybe consider shaking it up with the line breaks a bit.

Hell: love's one-way ticket stop
is papercutting through my chest,
such-cold hands carving tracework
around my much too-burning weak heart.

You've got all the sentiments you want to express in there, but there's an odd sort of hesitency to your words. Be confident! This has all the hallmarks of a really great poem.

More from ~LovelyZ

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

Love's Torture When Dead

Love's Torture When Deadby ~LovelyZ

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style