Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
poetry i do believe
soon will be the death of me
as it takes over heart, mind, and soul

at my detrimental cost
it's all i ever think about
as it burrows deep to gain control

at this edge of time all i find
is my live as one long rhyme
with the need to stamp on it a title

for all the world to see and read
yes he caved to poetry
and completely lost out on the battle
 Aug 2016 Kelsey Lauren
Stephan


The sunrise was singing
as I rose from bed
The sweetest of melodies
played in my head

Harmonies floated
so soft on the air
Apricot skies
on this morning did share

Then when you kissed me
I found it was clear
It was not the sun
on this morning I hear

This wonderful tune
that sang down from above
Was the perfect sound
of our beautiful love
 Aug 2016 Kelsey Lauren
NV
i sometimes wonder why you still visit my mood swings,
left in abandoned playgrounds between my chest.
why you still visit even though the slides may only carry you down to somebody like me.
somebody difficult to love,
somebody who cannot tell the difference between crying and laughing anymore.
why you haven't left this soul,
who's bones can't seem to find enough strength to push my side of the sea saw,
who can't seem to move past three poles on the monkey bar,
simply because of the weight on top of my shoulders.
this flesh of complete brokeness that couldn't bare ringa ring rosie,
because at some point one gets tired of always falling.
i often wonder, why me.
why me, with all my chipped paint and countless dents.
why you still visit,
when this isn't the grass on other side that's greener.
because God knows,
i'd understand if you look for a park elsewhere.
a park worthy of you.
Taking a sip of that bitter coffee,
Tiring my eyes with a sleepless night, again;
My mind running circles, setting its path ablaze with thoughts,
Listening to sappy love songs that don't really matter;
Another midnight awake for me.

Lyrics greet me as if they'd expect me to listen;
Then get distracted by my drunk father's sleeptalking;
Hear the dripping of the faucet, seemingly making a rhythm;
Making a song up for my non-lover, then get lost in thought, again;
Yet, another midnight awake for me.

Occasionally, I'd think of that person and smile like a ****,
Then burst out crying for a love that can never be real;
Then watch BuzzFeed for someone-knows-what reason,
Then laugh and cry like an idiot, yet again;
Conjuring myself a midnight wake.

I'd rather not get bored with the latter,
I'd not have much to do;
"How 'bout sleeping already, *******?"
I could try that, in all honesty,
But closing my eyes makes me more and more awake.

I would like to write this longer if I had the patience,
But I'm fed up googling words that sound fancy but talk the ordinary;
I guess this is it for me.
Another midnight awake,
Another day to cringe again.
If I had someone to talk to, that'd be grand. But instead, I binge watch. What a basic ***.
It seems that my heart is made to be tortured;
It always fell into people who don't understand.
It seems my joy is in not knowing,
Because pain is the only thing I get.
I'm ashamed of my words.
I'm ashamed of myself.
I'm ashamed of my thoughts.
I'm ashamed of my heart.
I never get to say what I want to say,
I never get to say a truth,
Because once I do, all will change;
I'll lose the ones I love;
Though they don't love me that much.
It's hard to be different,
Knowing that all you hold on to will let you go,
Knowing that you're not yourself anymore.
I can't stretch enough what I want to shout.
Instead I write words that don't make sense.
At least in nonsense, I find myself.
I want to leave it all behind.
I want to find the things that make me smile again.
I want to find true people.
I want to find, me.

**But that'll never happen.
I'm that lost. I need someone.
When I rot,
Will you tend to me?
Will you comfort me?
Will you stay, even at my worst?
When I rot,
Will you hold my hand?
Will you tell me everything's fine,
Even if it wasn't, and never will?
When I rot,
Would you make me feel alright?
Would you lay beside my casket,
And hum my favorite tune?
When I rot,
Would I still be your love?
Would you still be patient,
Enough to see me dwindle to nothing?
When I rot,
Will you still see me as me?
Would you not change for me?
Would you still find the good that's long not within me?
Oh—that's right;
You never felt real;
You weren't even here to begin with.
A prequel to the ramble I shouldn't have written
Next page