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girl torn tripped poetry

Tripped

Do you not see me When I am around? When you trip me over I fall and break to hundred pieces, How can you be so blind That you fail to see me Sprawled out on the ground? I am looking for comfort In your

pain-t featured image for tragic love

Tragic Love

Words feel smaller, They still call her; You are hazier, I am crazier Than before, And I don’t know, How many lives ago Were you there, Twinkling like a star In my sky. I am a life unlived, Hoping a vision clearer, Things were never

work it out poem image astronaut on fire

Work It Out

Work, I could bring you home, But you wouldn’t stay; I am a man Who knows your secret too much, And you would hear my thoughts, I talk that much. I hate the idea of you To be done, You are a serpent The world

Watch Me Die Poem

Watch Me Die

Consumed, Confused, I lie awake, My life’s at stake, I am back to ground zero. They say there’s no hero; I tried to be one, Son of a gun! They are all blind! My eyes couldn’t find Hope to keep me up at night, Or

swords are needles

Swords Are Needles

Why draw a sword, When you know That it only kills? Nothing good has ever come From a needle that only knows how to cut, And how to taste blood. You are calling out destruction When you know How to use a weapon; Its knowledge

dawn of the living poem

Dawn of the Living

Waking up in your time, I am the night! I see what calls you – A light from the sky, And you walk out like moths To a brimming sunshine; All that glare hides promises Of a bright future That you could make In your

written poetry slow motion photo

Written

Did you know? You were born in kisses, Moulded with slurps Of my sloppy lips, You didn’t know what it was then Or what together meant. You just take love for granted, Just as you take breathing now. Your birth wasn’t a mistake, But a

The Crying Child with Father

The Crying Child

What ails you, child? Why cry you wild? The journey is yet to begin; The world is crook and pain And outright insane; It hides in its ways, Mysterious days, Hurt, that has yet to find a name. It will a play a game That’s

fallen poetry by scottshak

The Fallen

People fall in, They fall out, And yet they never learn That falling in Is supposed to give butterflies, While falling out, ashes. And that’s all there is to it – A series of falling in and out, Of broken hearts and reconciliations, Of tamed