#pain poems on Hello Poetry

eliana Jun 21

This ink, it runs.
This paper is stained
Tears run free as
I'm stuck in a daze.
I put this pen to paper,
To write the words
This voice can't deliver.
My heart is heavy
With pain and despair.
Can't breathe.
I'm fighting for air.
My mind is spinning
At the speed of light.
This pain in my life
Has clouded my mind.
The thoughts are deafening
Of my life you took away,
But after all my
Heartache,
Someday I'll be okay!

you can lose everything in a blink of an eye, and be lost trying to find the answers to why.

#okay #pain #heartache #voice

Shiva Chauhan Jun 20

Still Waiting

In the echoes of love untold,
The very heart I kept her hold,
Burned and ripped apart, my soul,
I shall sit and request my tears to fold.

She's not coming back, I know, I do,
I choose waiting, that's surely true,
The love I once had, so divine,
Oh, I'm dying to call her, "MINE".

Still waiting… even when I know she won’t return.

#love #loss #waiting #pain #echoes #heartbreak #longing #tears #memories #despair

Aaamour Jun 20

sleepless nights

Sleepless nights
Never ending thoughts
All of my life lost
Reminding time never stops

Heart full of love
Mind filled with pain
Too late now to express
All of it goes in vain

Unsent letters, Lay by my side
Once filled with love
Now fills me with pain
To get out of this, I can't find a way

Starts, I see in the sky
Shining even when it's dark
Telling me it's fine
To be better next time

  I am shining too 
I reply  no one sees me shining
 in these vast skies

The room is dark and cold
Slowly sleep unfolds
To wake up in the morning again
With nothing to gain

#sleepless #loss #love #unrequited #hopeless #night #pain

Marisa Lu Makil Jun 17

Eight, Six, Three, Five.

I was not raised by my sister's mother
Though the same woman raised she and me
I did not live with the same older brothers
Though we lived with the same older three

I was not cared for by the same father
As my sister had caring for her
The same person, he was, but I guess that's different
She had softness and I felt his burns.

I did not live in the same home as she
Though we both grew up on Fallow Street
I guess we're all changed by the parents we have
And more by the parents we meet

I did not have my sister's childhood
Hers seemed very soft to my eyes
While mine was a horror, tragic and bleak,
I fought very hard for my prize

My sister was raised in a different house
Different parents had she
We both grew up with the same people
But both had different families

As I got older, it took long to learn
That though we grew in the same mud,
My blood shared with her is thinner than water
For water is thicker than our blood.

The same two people raised my sister and I–JK and BK. We have the same brothers, P, N, and J. But I was raised with a mother who didn't understand me and a Father who didn't want to. She got the parents who had learned from raising me and decided to try harder with her. I got the brothers who should have protected me and all three failed to do so. She got the brothers who would have done anything for her. I love my family. I love who they are today and I am learning to love myself as well. But some days, it's so easy to remember how things were–they should have protected me. The five of them should have been my protection, but instead I had to learn to hide who I was and what horror lay beneath my smiling exterior because I had to protect myself since no one else would.
I love my family. I am fortunate to have three brothers who love me, a sister who is trying to love me, and parents who are trying to learn who I am now. It's just hard to remember my fortune when it's stained with the memories of the people I shouldn't have needed to mistrust. I should have been able to rely on them, and it still hurts no matter how much or how often I have forgiven them. I still remember.

#mother #sister #brothers #father #damage #pain #blood #depression #growingup #water

Marisa Lu Makil Jun 19

Prone to Wakefulness

My shoulders ache, my bones forlorn
I don't recall my acts this morn'

I've purple bags beneath my eyes
My head's in pain from midnight cries

My back–it hurts, my jaw is tight
I know I didn't sleep last night

My demons came to call again
Lying to me about my friends

With weary blinks and bleary eyes
I sit right here and I realize

I don't remember what it's like
To not be so exhausted.

#hurt #weary #pain #exhausted #depression #thinking #bones #insomnia #sleepapnea #crying

Tuyet Anh Jun 20

A Candle Inside The Child

People count the years
by candles and quiet tears.
The twenties, they say,
are when we wait
for the first cry
from a miracle
just learning to breathe.

But some of us, like me,
never quite grow up.
Peter Pan weeps
each time the rain brushes my shoulders.
I come alive again
only in fleeting moments,
like the string that’s slipped
from a flying kite.

Just days ago,
that child stirred again —
flickering like a candle,
reaching toward her teacher,
a man with nothing
but quiet grace,
yet rich in the kind of ways
that make you believe in yourself.

She longed to share
a small bright win,
a spark like a candle’s tip —
just enough to set a heart aglow
beneath the gaze
that once gave her
presence
when the world turned away.

For the first time,
I wanted to tell
someone —
so fully —
like a child
unafraid to confess,
trusting there’d be
an empty seat,
and eyes that wait.

I once thought,
on the day I might break,
as wax melts
over a birthday cake —
would God have mercy
and let me return
as my teacher’s daughter?

But now I know —
even the most beautiful dream
can turn to dust
if we forget to hold the present
while it’s still here.
Even something lovelier
can still feel
like a passing crush —
picked up with wonder,
and dropped
when wonder fades.

From The Desk Where Mr. C Sat

#teacher #lesson #candle #child #wish #hope #pain #warmth

Feyre Jun 20

a writer's mind

writing and scribbling and scrawling down my all thoughts,
each and every
dark and sinister alley twisting in the curves and
crevices
of my mind.
dusty, hidden corners filled with filth -
hidden by the shadows of my
weighted self.

sometimes my mind feels like it's rotting

#writer #overthinker #mentalhealth #thoughts #struggle #pain #poet