BasilThePlant
Member
- Aug 13, 2024
- 41
Because I haven't had a resource to share my poems due to different topics, I thought this would be a good place to start. Feel free to give feedback, but these are a way for me to express myself, so I am sorry if they are not the best.
`````````````````
The lamp flickers nervously.
I bathe in the glow, smiling, unsure.
It flitters about the room
On, off, on, off,
A surge of electricity fills my body.
The lamp dies.
So do I.
````````````````````````````
She looks at me, red eyes blinking
She stares, judging
Pupils dialating.
She talks to me,
Her voice harsh against the waves of the wind,
Scolding me.
She holds me,
Her hands as soft as one can imagine,
She caresses me.
She strangles me,
Painted nails digging into my neck,
She kills me.
Her voice cut through the air,
Knives to my skin,
Goosebumps
As she yells at me,
Screams at me,
Her anger red and bleeding and bruised,
Soaked in lemon.
````````````````````````````
She looks at me, red eyes blinking
She stares, judging
Pupils dialating.
She talks to me,
Her voice harsh against the waves of the wind,
Scolding me.
She holds me,
Her hands as soft as one can imagine,
She caresses me.
She strangles me,
Painted nails digging into my neck,
She kills me.
```````````````````````````
It stares at me all night,
A guardian angel,
Pure and telling.
It lulls me to sleep,
Sings to me,
A song of crickets and cicadas,
In the dewy grass.
I try to visit it,
But it stays outside my grasp,
Watching through glass,
Large and elusive,
Misty eyed, it leaves,
Leaving me in the care of its sister,
A bright-faced clone,
Shining and radiant,
As she scars me,
Leaves me a bit darker than before.
But soon enough it comes around again,
Comforts my wounds,
Wrapping me up into a cool blanket of promises,
Dark yet light,
Heals me,
And lets me breathe in fresh air,
And sleep, in its watchful care.
```````````````````````````````
Its dull,
A faded piece of paper,
Yellowed with age,
But bursting with life,
His smile shining through the page.
His arm is slung around a girl,
My mother,
Doe-eyed, and slim, and beautiful.
He is tall, muscles showing through his shirt,
His dark hair slicked in a fell swoop.
How did I become so unlucky,
My eyes mismatched,
My smile crooked,
My stature fat.
I must have took the spare parts,
As God made my parents too perfect,
And had to sculpt me with the scraps.
`````````````````````````````````
I want to be recognized.
I want peoples faces to light up when they see my face.
I want to be worthwhile.
To be important.
To be real.
I want potential.
To be great, to be smart, to be loved.
Instead, peoples heads drop in disgust when they see me.
Scoff when they hear my name.
Wrinkle their noses, and move along their day.
Not even the grocer looks me in the eye,
As if afraid they could catch a virus.
It wasn't always this way,
No,
Not until I disappeared,
No,
I was once normal,
Beautiful, even.
Sad, downturned green eyes now plague my face,
Where bright, meaningful ones once lay.
A tight-lipped frown is plastered on,
Where full, pink lips used to smile in joy.
My once clear, pale skin
Has faded into a white canvas,
Blank of thought or inspiration or feeling.
Now I can only dream of purpose,
Of happiness,
Of beauty,
As I watch from afar at the children that have what I didn't,
The love and attention and recognition.
I hate them.
Smug and arrogant,
Their sticky fingers grip at they pacifiers and bottles,
As they scream for "More! More!"
And their mothers simply place them near her breast,
Happy to indulge in their child's desires.
They don't need it,
Yet they get it.
I hate them.
Instead of being recognized,
I now dream of ripping their throats,
Slicing open their little chubby bodies,
Crawling inside,
And taking their place,
Surrounded by blood and fat.
I would happily attend to my mother,
I would never scream, or demand.
I would ask for nothing for Christmas,
Just for my mothers love and approval.
But who cares about a mothers approval, anyways?
Its a birthright.
Mothers must care for their babies.
A sickly sweet love that's fake,
Meaningless.
Id rather just be myself,
With my down-turned eyes and tight-lipped frown,
Gloomy,
And critical with this world.
With my dark thoughts, and dark desires,
And moody daydreams,
And unintelligible rambles.
With the dark smudges under my eyes,
With the scars on my wrists,
With the growling stomach.
Am I so undeserving of a mothers love?
A mothers touch?
Why could I not have a mother who I could cry out to,
"More! More!"
Who would happily set me by her breast,
Selfless, and caring, and loving?
Was I just destined to be gloomy,
To make the happy people feel even luckier?
I hate them so much, yet I know I am playing my part.
I wouldn't wish my fate on anyone.
Rather it be me to be this outcast, then anyone else.
I've tried to hide it, of course.
I put makeup on my eyes,
Painted my lips,
Hell, even plastic surgery,
Yet that made me even more horrendous.
I couldn't hide my soul,
Which always escapes through my hideous eyes,
Making me untouchable.
Oh well, I guess im just a face that even a mother couldnt love.
`````````````````
The lamp flickers nervously.
I bathe in the glow, smiling, unsure.
It flitters about the room
On, off, on, off,
A surge of electricity fills my body.
The lamp dies.
So do I.
````````````````````````````
She looks at me, red eyes blinking
She stares, judging
Pupils dialating.
She talks to me,
Her voice harsh against the waves of the wind,
Scolding me.
She holds me,
Her hands as soft as one can imagine,
She caresses me.
She strangles me,
Painted nails digging into my neck,
She kills me.
Her voice cut through the air,
Knives to my skin,
Goosebumps
As she yells at me,
Screams at me,
Her anger red and bleeding and bruised,
Soaked in lemon.
````````````````````````````
She looks at me, red eyes blinking
She stares, judging
Pupils dialating.
She talks to me,
Her voice harsh against the waves of the wind,
Scolding me.
She holds me,
Her hands as soft as one can imagine,
She caresses me.
She strangles me,
Painted nails digging into my neck,
She kills me.
```````````````````````````
It stares at me all night,
A guardian angel,
Pure and telling.
It lulls me to sleep,
Sings to me,
A song of crickets and cicadas,
In the dewy grass.
I try to visit it,
But it stays outside my grasp,
Watching through glass,
Large and elusive,
Misty eyed, it leaves,
Leaving me in the care of its sister,
A bright-faced clone,
Shining and radiant,
As she scars me,
Leaves me a bit darker than before.
But soon enough it comes around again,
Comforts my wounds,
Wrapping me up into a cool blanket of promises,
Dark yet light,
Heals me,
And lets me breathe in fresh air,
And sleep, in its watchful care.
```````````````````````````````
Its dull,
A faded piece of paper,
Yellowed with age,
But bursting with life,
His smile shining through the page.
His arm is slung around a girl,
My mother,
Doe-eyed, and slim, and beautiful.
He is tall, muscles showing through his shirt,
His dark hair slicked in a fell swoop.
How did I become so unlucky,
My eyes mismatched,
My smile crooked,
My stature fat.
I must have took the spare parts,
As God made my parents too perfect,
And had to sculpt me with the scraps.
`````````````````````````````````
I want to be recognized.
I want peoples faces to light up when they see my face.
I want to be worthwhile.
To be important.
To be real.
I want potential.
To be great, to be smart, to be loved.
Instead, peoples heads drop in disgust when they see me.
Scoff when they hear my name.
Wrinkle their noses, and move along their day.
Not even the grocer looks me in the eye,
As if afraid they could catch a virus.
It wasn't always this way,
No,
Not until I disappeared,
No,
I was once normal,
Beautiful, even.
Sad, downturned green eyes now plague my face,
Where bright, meaningful ones once lay.
A tight-lipped frown is plastered on,
Where full, pink lips used to smile in joy.
My once clear, pale skin
Has faded into a white canvas,
Blank of thought or inspiration or feeling.
Now I can only dream of purpose,
Of happiness,
Of beauty,
As I watch from afar at the children that have what I didn't,
The love and attention and recognition.
I hate them.
Smug and arrogant,
Their sticky fingers grip at they pacifiers and bottles,
As they scream for "More! More!"
And their mothers simply place them near her breast,
Happy to indulge in their child's desires.
They don't need it,
Yet they get it.
I hate them.
Instead of being recognized,
I now dream of ripping their throats,
Slicing open their little chubby bodies,
Crawling inside,
And taking their place,
Surrounded by blood and fat.
I would happily attend to my mother,
I would never scream, or demand.
I would ask for nothing for Christmas,
Just for my mothers love and approval.
But who cares about a mothers approval, anyways?
Its a birthright.
Mothers must care for their babies.
A sickly sweet love that's fake,
Meaningless.
Id rather just be myself,
With my down-turned eyes and tight-lipped frown,
Gloomy,
And critical with this world.
With my dark thoughts, and dark desires,
And moody daydreams,
And unintelligible rambles.
With the dark smudges under my eyes,
With the scars on my wrists,
With the growling stomach.
Am I so undeserving of a mothers love?
A mothers touch?
Why could I not have a mother who I could cry out to,
"More! More!"
Who would happily set me by her breast,
Selfless, and caring, and loving?
Was I just destined to be gloomy,
To make the happy people feel even luckier?
I hate them so much, yet I know I am playing my part.
I wouldn't wish my fate on anyone.
Rather it be me to be this outcast, then anyone else.
I've tried to hide it, of course.
I put makeup on my eyes,
Painted my lips,
Hell, even plastic surgery,
Yet that made me even more horrendous.
I couldn't hide my soul,
Which always escapes through my hideous eyes,
Making me untouchable.
Oh well, I guess im just a face that even a mother couldnt love.
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