Poems About Myself Published by Members Recently Online
#myself
Poems about myself published by members recently online.
Fallen_Angel_194
Angel.
Angel.
Poem Published
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
PCOS
She lives inside my body like an unwanted house guest ; unwelcome by all.
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
#illness
#MentalHealth
#myself
21 reads
0 Comments
Fallen_Angel_194
Angel.
Angel.
Poem Published
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
PCOS
She lives inside my body like an unwanted house guest ; unwelcome by all.
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
#illness
#MentalHealth
#myself
21 reads
0 Comments
Fallen_Angel_194
Angel.
Angel.
Poem Published
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
11th Jan 2021 2:21am
PCOS
She lives inside my body like an unwanted house guest ; unwelcome by all.
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s...
#illness
#MentalHealth
#myself
21 reads
0 Comments
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
I think you’ll find I am not a spill, Sir
Listen
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself
#frustration
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
13 Comments
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
I think you’ll find I am not a spill, Sir
Listen
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself
#frustration
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
13 Comments
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
I think you’ll find I am not a spill, Sir
Listen
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself
#frustration
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
13 Comments
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
I think you’ll find I am not a spill, Sir
Listen
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself
#frustration
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
13 Comments
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
20th Jan 2021 10:15am
I think you’ll find I am not a spill, Sir
Listen
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
I’m over the ‘s’ word
implying only
that these lines
were accidents
that this poem flowed
with purpose and grace,
filtering itself until pure
there’s no river here;
not even a damn pond
I don’t pour majestically
from babbling brooks of dreams,
paddling half-heartedly
in the shallow pools of cynicism
neither should I be compared
to dry rice
milk
a loose shit
on the way out—
I want my words
to strike the Earth
like a wet lamb ...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself
#frustration
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
13 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
Alone, In a Booth
I do this sometimes-
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
#silence
#peace
#food
#dialogue
#myself
135 reads
17 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
Alone, In a Booth
I do this sometimes-
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
#silence
#peace
#food
#dialogue
#myself
135 reads
17 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
Alone, In a Booth
I do this sometimes-
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
#silence
#peace
#food
#dialogue
#myself
135 reads
17 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
Alone, In a Booth
I do this sometimes-
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
#silence
#peace
#food
#dialogue
#myself
135 reads
17 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Myself Published by Members Recently Online
