Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Poet. Dreamer. Hopeless Romantic. Music Lover. Avid Reader. Writer. Mother. Storyteller. Neurotic.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Jun 2013 10:21pm
8th Jun 2013 10:21pm
Sylvia
What do you know about Sylvia?
Do you know that she had depression?
Do you know the electroshock therapy that she endured, not only her silently named alter ego, Esther Greenwood?
Do you know about The Bell Jar?
Did you understand the words?
She had so much to look forward to.
She had dreams she wanted to live.
And she had people call poetry merely dust.
She wanted to write so that something out lived her, herself.
If you read her journals, you will feel so happy for her.
But when you remember the end of her story.
That there...
Do you know that she had depression?
Do you know the electroshock therapy that she endured, not only her silently named alter ego, Esther Greenwood?
Do you know about The Bell Jar?
Did you understand the words?
She had so much to look forward to.
She had dreams she wanted to live.
And she had people call poetry merely dust.
She wanted to write so that something out lived her, herself.
If you read her journals, you will feel so happy for her.
But when you remember the end of her story.
That there...
1074 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jun 2013 8:03pm
5th Jun 2013 8:03pm
The Only Story I Cannot Rewrite
I want to go back to standing in the hallway that day.
I want to not just walk away and have you grab my arm.
I want to not pull you into me and pretend to love you for a few more minutes.
Not let you put your faith in me one last time.
I want to step back from you, ignoring your tears.
Though you and I both know that it killed me to see you cry.
I wish I could go back and redo this but it was always be a fading daydream, a story that can only end one way.
With tears, someone being broken and lost in the end.
But this is the right way, the way things...
I want to not just walk away and have you grab my arm.
I want to not pull you into me and pretend to love you for a few more minutes.
Not let you put your faith in me one last time.
I want to step back from you, ignoring your tears.
Though you and I both know that it killed me to see you cry.
I wish I could go back and redo this but it was always be a fading daydream, a story that can only end one way.
With tears, someone being broken and lost in the end.
But this is the right way, the way things...
747 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jun 2013 7:25pm
5th Jun 2013 7:25pm
Push
Push.
Grabbed by both my wrists.
Heaved backwards when I just want to go.
Not go as in die.
Not go as in cry.
Just go...
Into another room, away from arguments and pain.
But you.
Of all people.
Grab my wrists and twist.
Shoving my back into the room.
Making it worse.
How could you to this?
Slam the ring on the table.
And tell you to get out.
Scream at you with tears in my eyes.
How could you?
But you don't leave.
You stay outside the door and than come back to make sure I'm okay. ...
Grabbed by both my wrists.
Heaved backwards when I just want to go.
Not go as in die.
Not go as in cry.
Just go...
Into another room, away from arguments and pain.
But you.
Of all people.
Grab my wrists and twist.
Shoving my back into the room.
Making it worse.
How could you to this?
Slam the ring on the table.
And tell you to get out.
Scream at you with tears in my eyes.
How could you?
But you don't leave.
You stay outside the door and than come back to make sure I'm okay. ...
739 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
4th Jun 2013 11:41pm
4th Jun 2013 11:41pm
Fly Away
Fly.
I want to fly.
Like a bird.
Like a plane.
Like a superhero man.
I want to fly away from the pain.
And the hardships that are (what could be) a simple life.
Why does everything hurt?
And everyone hurt me?
I will not let these battles break me.
I am standing on the frontlines holding my head high.
The guns are being fired.
And the bombs are being dropped.
Blood is shed and tears are cried.
And I put my arms up ready for a fight.
I think of a music video I saw once and when the enemy is about to deliver the final...
I want to fly.
Like a bird.
Like a plane.
Like a superhero man.
I want to fly away from the pain.
And the hardships that are (what could be) a simple life.
Why does everything hurt?
And everyone hurt me?
I will not let these battles break me.
I am standing on the frontlines holding my head high.
The guns are being fired.
And the bombs are being dropped.
Blood is shed and tears are cried.
And I put my arms up ready for a fight.
I think of a music video I saw once and when the enemy is about to deliver the final...
747 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
4th Jun 2013 00:30am
4th Jun 2013 00:30am
Kiss the Cuts Away
I've started again.
And it hurts more than it did before.
Because I thought I was cured from this sickness.
I thought I had left the valley of razors and knives behind.
But now I'm back inside of that same darkness.
As a tally board becomes of my left arm.
With every hurtful word.
Every scream or yell.
Every fight that breaks out.
More cuts appear on my wrist.
I last a year.
And than feel back inside Depression's cold and hungry grasp.
And now I hold the razor close to my chest and the knives had many hiding place inside of my house.
And I...
And it hurts more than it did before.
Because I thought I was cured from this sickness.
I thought I had left the valley of razors and knives behind.
But now I'm back inside of that same darkness.
As a tally board becomes of my left arm.
With every hurtful word.
Every scream or yell.
Every fight that breaks out.
More cuts appear on my wrist.
I last a year.
And than feel back inside Depression's cold and hungry grasp.
And now I hold the razor close to my chest and the knives had many hiding place inside of my house.
And I...
745 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
27th May 2013 4:09pm
27th May 2013 4:09pm
Sellout
You are a sellout.
Yes, you.
I am talking to you.
With the dark make-up.
And the expensive punk clothes.
With the dyed hair you're going to change again with five seconds.
You holding a bottle of allergy pills, threatening to kill yourself.
Yes you.
The one that cut herself and I cried for because I thought you needed help.
I kept it a secret from your brother, my boyfriend.
How does it feel to get whatever you want so easily?
Your brother wanted to talk to both of your parents and you wanted to kill yourself.
"Sorry Andrew, we...
Yes, you.
I am talking to you.
With the dark make-up.
And the expensive punk clothes.
With the dyed hair you're going to change again with five seconds.
You holding a bottle of allergy pills, threatening to kill yourself.
Yes you.
The one that cut herself and I cried for because I thought you needed help.
I kept it a secret from your brother, my boyfriend.
How does it feel to get whatever you want so easily?
Your brother wanted to talk to both of your parents and you wanted to kill yourself.
"Sorry Andrew, we...
743 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th May 2013 6:39pm
26th May 2013 6:39pm
Distance
Friends once again.
Mended a broken heart.
Fixed a broken bridge.
Now we talk,
sometimes. . .
sort of. . .
maybe. . .
a little bit at a time. . .
But it's been months that feel like years.
And we live so faraway even though in retrospect we're so close.
I miss you.
And am glad to have you back.
But there's the wall.
The thin ice that I am to walk on.
This renewed friendship is new, but sometimes it's old.
But I feel like we're still miles and miles away.
There are tears that we have cried that we not seen.
There have been...
Mended a broken heart.
Fixed a broken bridge.
Now we talk,
sometimes. . .
sort of. . .
maybe. . .
a little bit at a time. . .
But it's been months that feel like years.
And we live so faraway even though in retrospect we're so close.
I miss you.
And am glad to have you back.
But there's the wall.
The thin ice that I am to walk on.
This renewed friendship is new, but sometimes it's old.
But I feel like we're still miles and miles away.
There are tears that we have cried that we not seen.
There have been...
735 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th May 2013 10:28pm
16th May 2013 10:28pm
A Strange Logic
I hate those dreams, when good people come back in your life and then you wake up and they're still gone.
But then I kind of like the nightmares where bad people come back in your lives and try to hurt to hurt you again.
Because then you wake up, and they're not there anymore and they can never hurt you unless you imagine it so.
It's a very strange thing that I have discovered.
I just wish that the bad people sometimes just left and the good people stayed just a little bit longer.
It would make a lot things easier to understand.
But then I kind of like the nightmares where bad people come back in your lives and try to hurt to hurt you again.
Because then you wake up, and they're not there anymore and they can never hurt you unless you imagine it so.
It's a very strange thing that I have discovered.
I just wish that the bad people sometimes just left and the good people stayed just a little bit longer.
It would make a lot things easier to understand.
637 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
9th May 2013 5:38pm
9th May 2013 5:38pm
Paranoia Diary: Entry V
Let me begin by stating that a person living with any form of mental illness never wanted to be this way, they never asked to be like this. No they just are, I just am like this. From an early age of twelve years old I was diagnosed with depression, and then again when I was sixteen along with anxiety disorders and than when I was eighteen I was labeled disabled because of social phobia. I never asked for any of that, never asked for the bad things to happen to me. My grandparents and father to die, my friends to abandon me at the drop of a hat, a girl to abuse me to the point of insanity, to...
890 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2013 5:35pm
23rd Mar 2013 5:35pm
The Death of the Writer
Here lies the Writer,
she died alone in vain.
With stories all broken
and characters gone a stray.
Here lies the Writer,
broken pens in her wrists.
She was ignored by those she cared about.
Their uncaring actions gave the knife on final twist.
Here lies the Writer,
no poison is the blame for her great fall.
She wanted to please everyone,
but ended up disappointing them all.
Here lies to Writer,
her lover sits alone
placing a red rose on a placid stone.
Here lies the Writer,
her mother cries silently for her...
she died alone in vain.
With stories all broken
and characters gone a stray.
Here lies the Writer,
broken pens in her wrists.
She was ignored by those she cared about.
Their uncaring actions gave the knife on final twist.
Here lies the Writer,
no poison is the blame for her great fall.
She wanted to please everyone,
but ended up disappointing them all.
Here lies to Writer,
her lover sits alone
placing a red rose on a placid stone.
Here lies the Writer,
her mother cries silently for her...
690 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 9:53pm
10th Mar 2013 9:53pm
The Best Smile Ever
Tiny little hands, fit perfectly inside of mine.
Cute little feet that kick around inside his swing.
Small, chubby cheeks rosy and soft when I touch them with my fingertips.
"Mommy loves you, Gaige."
I whisper the words gently, so only his ears can hear them.
As sweet and gentle as the coos he makes when looking around the room and moving around in his swing.
I brush against his cheeks again, and he widens his eyes up at me.
It is one of the first times that I get to play with my son and it doesn't hurt.
I have the room to play with him...
Cute little feet that kick around inside his swing.
Small, chubby cheeks rosy and soft when I touch them with my fingertips.
"Mommy loves you, Gaige."
I whisper the words gently, so only his ears can hear them.
As sweet and gentle as the coos he makes when looking around the room and moving around in his swing.
I brush against his cheeks again, and he widens his eyes up at me.
It is one of the first times that I get to play with my son and it doesn't hurt.
I have the room to play with him...
721 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Jan 2013 4:35pm
22nd Jan 2013 4:35pm
Obselete
I hate being broken.
I hate being weak.
I hate being unable to move.
Or too afraid to speak.
I hate my tears.
I hate my stupid, irrational fears.
I hate that my weaknesses stop me from doing what I was made to do.
I hate that my disabilities are taking away these opportunities that were made for me.
His cries can't go unanswered.
His tears I cannot ignore.
He's my son.
But if my pain stands in front of me taking care of him--
Then what good am I?
Is this the beginning of that depression all these nice doctors keep telling me that...
I hate being weak.
I hate being unable to move.
Or too afraid to speak.
I hate my tears.
I hate my stupid, irrational fears.
I hate that my weaknesses stop me from doing what I was made to do.
I hate that my disabilities are taking away these opportunities that were made for me.
His cries can't go unanswered.
His tears I cannot ignore.
He's my son.
But if my pain stands in front of me taking care of him--
Then what good am I?
Is this the beginning of that depression all these nice doctors keep telling me that...
700 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
