Confusion Poems
white sparkling wine
by Ella Sophia
poor girl keeps getting haunted
deep in mind , she’ll done be screaming
all words rushed down throat
throughout left and above , nothing made sense
jostled yet stayed
pinned up against all crosses ;
she’ll be living solely in delusion
fantasy at twenties , be fearless they say ,
here in square-tinted blue room
one knees bent crying it all-out confines of
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
n0n3xistent
by Mister Rotten
I attempt to belong as a hunter, someone standing apart from your entity,
to restrain tautological blunders; yield myself to the sedative’s lenity.
I attempt to belong as a seeker, be of significance on my own right,
but contrary to all these endeavours… I collide with my own despite.
I whip myself on like a horse, trusting failure to be hematobic,
advancing excessive wars, self-sufficient and misanthropic.
under pressure of ceaseless wantage, I obsess about being faultless,
yet I’m at absolute disadvantage, unmindful if I endorse this.
......
Exposed to Rain...
by Fariha Farid
Watch the sky stumble.
As the clouds bundle,
Let them all fumble.
For such ignorant blunder.
Just a little rumble.
Jolting a crackle.
And it'll all crumble.
The water pringles-(to tingle persistently or annoyingly).
......
life of a 14 year old.
by genesis riddle
its 1:47 in the morning.
i cant sleep.
i have no emotion, yet im overly stressed
i keep zoning out
letters are moving, the walls are shrinking
i feel like i cant get out of bed, but i can
my head doesnt hurt but its still pounding
i cant stop biting the skin around my nails
my heart hurts, it feels as if my chest were being punched.
......
white sparkling wine
by Ella Sophia
poor girl keeps getting haunted
deep in mind , she’ll done be screaming
all words rushed down throat
throughout left and above , nothing made sense
jostled yet stayed
pinned up against all crosses ;
she’ll be living solely in delusion
fantasy at twenties , be fearless they say ,
here in square-tinted blue room
one knees bent crying it all-out confines of
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
life of a 14 year old.
by genesis riddle
its 1:47 in the morning.
i cant sleep.
i have no emotion, yet im overly stressed
i keep zoning out
letters are moving, the walls are shrinking
i feel like i cant get out of bed, but i can
my head doesnt hurt but its still pounding
i cant stop biting the skin around my nails
my heart hurts, it feels as if my chest were being punched.
......
dfvsdg
by Adriano Radadadadadad
Continue readingThe Maze of Truth
by Lamar Yousif
Hello, I'm aiming to get better at writing poetry. So, I decided the best course of action was to write whatever came to mind to the best of my ability and then get personalized guidance rather than the generic and repetitive "helpful tips" I find on websites. Be as mean and brutal as you see fit, as long as it's honest and helpful. If you can, give me tips on what to name this thing, I think "The Maze of Truth" is a bit bland. Anyway, here it is:
The Maze of Truth
We all jump often, and leaves glide down, but birds are the ones with flight
Humans try so hard to dream away,
As from reality, we all try to flee.
......
