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elizabeth Mar 2017
My anger comes
In the form of tears.
I control myself
But the tremors take over.

My anger comes
In the form of silence.
I control myself
But my thoughts run wild.

My anger comes
In the form of weakness.
I control myself
But they don't know that.

My anger comes
In the form of control.
Because I know
The havoc I could wreak.
March 2, 2017.
Lately I've just been very angry. I think it's mostly stress but I believe it's also built-up resentment against those around me.
You think you can just bid me adieu
What the heck is wrong with you
You say that I am just too needy
I said that I could change if need be
But no, you still wouldn't hear it
Seemed like you were going to throw a fit
Well forget you, you heartless little witch
I'll forget all about you once I become filthy stinkin rich
Having befriended you will be a distant memory
Something that will have contributed to the new me
The new me that doesn't reminisce about the past
Just so your memory can fade away real fast
Fade away from any and everything that reminds me of you
All because of how you bid me adieu
Another one targeted at her.
I always wondered how I could get so broken
You never listened to the words that were spoken
Telling me I'm the one but why was I chosen?
You admired me but not my devotion

I don't understand how I got so open
For you to act right, that's what I was hoping
But every time you ****** up and I exploded
I got so angry and started spillin' my raw emotion

Played and used like a token
All the love I gave you, I'm revoking
This poem I'm loathing
****.. I need to get back focused
Joshua Dougan Jan 2017
California is a *****.
She's rude and obnoxious and
She doesn't give a ****.
She doesn't care about me...
Or my family...
Every threat I face she blames MY anatomy.
California harbors resentment, look at the lot of coverage.
Except it's directed east of LA and at laws that govern it.
It's really despicable, dare I say "deplorable".
Don't put your eggs in this basket trust me it's horrible.
Can I help build this wall. I will gladly volunteer my work towards this project if by doing so I can possible got out of the hell hole that is California. In fact I will volunteer under no pretense if we extend the wall to seal the inside of California from the rest of the country.
Ella Gwen Dec 2016
I let the water seep into my skin
lying on the balcony in the mist,
head down, searching for the sky.

I won't tell you I did this
you would only say I was insane.

He won't be back at 9, like he said,
or at 10, at 11 or 12,

what is here
to come back for.
Felicity Smoak Dec 2016
You said you'd always love me.
And you never did.
You said you'd always be there.
And you never were.
You said you'd help me get through life.
And you never helped at all.

My only question is "how?"

How did you manage to aid in my creation,
stand there in the hospital room when I was born,
hold me when I was only a child,
and then leave me?

How could you sit in a jail cell,
knowing I was alone,
without a father,
without anyone to even model one for me?

How could you repeat your mistakes,
knowing how much it would affect me,
knowing how much it would affect my mother,
and my younger sister?

How could you leave me alone,
without a care in the world,
without a meaningful existence in my life,
without the slightest feeling of love from you?

Was I a reminder of your long lost youth?
Did I threaten your freedom?

You're supposed to embrace that your era is over,
that it was time to let your kingdom fall.

When you have a child,
you're supposed to love them.
I never felt that from you.
Instead, you left.


I thought I was over this,
writing about you,
missing you,
crying because you'll never love me like you should.

I guess some feelings just never die down,
especially not abandonment from someone
who's never supposed to leave you.

Most girls my age share stories of how their fathers
taught them how to fix cars,
or threatened to **** the boy who took their virginity.
The only thing I have to share of you is your never ending abandonment, sorriness, and the resentment I have for you because of them.

They think I'm crazy,
to hate the man who made me.

It's not crazy,
it's just justice.

f.m.s.
When will I ever stop feeling this way? I guess we'll never know. But until I do, all I can do is cry and write.
trf Dec 2016
Up high above in the dark nights of fall,
Shines a Star that’s more stark than other flashing lights that lure,
Burning since the birth of time, hazy hindrances still may obscure,
Like bait that patiently awaits the oblivious all.

They say one is born every day, but only you illuminate bliss,
You can escape from this infinite space and when shooting make a wish,
Radiate through the hate, create a new fate, you are unique- Not a spate- and amaze everyone,
Oblique where I gaze you are nigh shiny sun.

She came, she saw, she wondered in awe, “where will I be?”
Are the words that pierced Stella’s skin written as a scrawl? Time will tell and we will see.

-TRF
Written on two cocktail napkins for a sad stripper who was stage named Star and who's real name was Erika. She was only 20 years old and had "Veni Vedi Vici" tattooed across her shoulder. She may have come and she may have saw, but I wanted her to conquer all and to free her from this despicable place where bachelor parties and creepiness blend in with the smoke and glitter. This Soul Snatcher of 20 year olds. Bouncers getting ******* and still keeping 20 percent. Using that tip money to pay off the cops so they can nearly **** Bachelors in the half empty parking lot for "getting too close and rowdy". **** this sinister industry for existing to allow even the option for people to make decent money. It's costing them too much for too little.
AD Sifford Nov 2016
You beat me and bruised me
You left me broken
You drained the blood from me,
Cut my heart open
You hung me up
And watched me die
You spit in my face
You laugh while I cry

I want to still love you
But there's nothing to love
You burned most of my heart
Now there's just not enough
But amidst my pain
I start to remember
That I've done my own part
To kindle embers

Still, the fact remains:

You beat me and bruised me
You left me broken
You drained the blood from me,
Cut my heart open
You hung me up
And watched me die
You spit in my face
You laugh while I cry

You did what I did
To my Lord, my King
Despite all of it
Our God still loves me
So I will not hate you
When there's nothing to love
I'll follow the way
Of my good Savior above

For amidst my resentment
I can hear Jesus
Heart pounding, I hear Him
Saying to us:

"
You beat me and bruised me
You left me broken
You drained the blood from me
Cut my heart open
You hung me up
And watched me die
You spit in my face
You laugh while I cry*

But still I will always
Love you, O child
Of the glorious Father above
Yes I will still love you
When there's nothing to love
So when others hurt you
Show them how to know love"

God said to me today:

"When they beat you and bruise you
And leave you broken
When they drain the blood from you
Just keep your heart open
And teach them how to love

Children, don't hate each other
Just love one another
Always, don't hate each other
Just love one another

Even when there's nothing to love"
|Written by early 2012|
(possibly written Oct. 3, 2011)

**Story**
Like many of my 2011 & 2012 poems, this was written amidst pain from a devastating heartbreak. I'd started developing some resentment and anger in the pain at this point, and began this poem by simply describing how I felt emotionally, through the imagery of physical torture.
I was very religious, and partway through this poem I began "hearing the voice of God" (as I used to be trained to often interpret many spiritual thoughts and emotions) and the direction of the poem changed, as I remembered the Christian conviction to have love and forgiveness for others because I myself am not perfect and yet had been allegedly forgiven even by my perfect savior. The imagery quickly shifted in my mind as I realized how well the chorus I had written applied to the image of Jesus being crucified. My emotion had changed from anger in the beginning, to joy at the end. I truly think these values of humility and forgiveness are some of the best effects of Christianity. That is a lesson I hope to learn more of in the future. It has helped me much in the past to be a better person.
To clarify, Christians believe that everything each individual does wrong, every sin, contributes in someway to why Jesus allegedly had to sacrifice himself. Additionally, shame of my personal struggles was still a pretty heavy weight on me at this time.

**Trivia**
If I recall correctly, this is one of the only poems I've ever written pretty much straight through, in one go. Eventually a few subtle changes were made, but this poem has essentially always been completed in about the same form from the minute I finished, and I finished it without stopping from the moment I started. It's practically pure free-flowing thought as I had it that night, captured in text.

___

© 2017 A.D. Sifford
I'm okay with you sharing my poems, but I ask that you show courtesy. Please be honest about the authorship by attributing it to my name. Thank you,
- Sifford
storm siren Oct 2016
I've never had a good relationship with my father.

The moment I started forming opinions of my own,
The moment I started to spit fire and venom,
Instead of smile in a sugary sweet way at every turn,
He decided I wasn't really worth all the effort,
Or any kindness whatsoever.

He thinks I know too much,
Or I know too little.
He thinks I talk too much,
Or I talk too little.

He thinks I'm too cold,
Or foolishly warm.
He thinks I'm too open,
Or much too closed off.

My father cares more about a bottle,
Than he ever cared about me.
And you wonder why I have trouble
Bringing myself to drink.

And the thing I hate most about me,
Is that I prefer the smell of books
Over the smell of flowers,
And that I prefer the typing of a keyboard
Over the notes of a piano.
I'd drink scotch over wine,
Every time.

And that's my father's blood
Running through my veins,
And I hate the person
He's made.

I am cold and I don't trust.
I don't smile and I don't laugh.
I have a hot temper
And I always react.

My father is the type of guy
Who goes on and on about being liberal,
But thinks dancing wrong
Or touching someone the wrong way
Is an invitation
For ***.

And if I disagree,
We fight and we fight,
And he's ashamed of me,
But I don't care anymore.

And you can agree with any point he's made,
But you disagree with one key factor
And you're the enemy,
And you're wrong.

He thinks people who are on medication
Are always wrong.
And he thinks people who don't take meds,
But need them,
Are batshit.

My father doesn't care about
Others feelings
Or the damage he does,
He sometimes only cares about
His pride
And his ******* scotch and *****.

I am hot headed
And stubborn.
I am a smart aleck,
And I'm way too sarcastic.

But I am my father's daughter.

And I hate the person he's made.
I miss the days when he was proud of me and I miss the days when I wasn't such a ******* problem.
Àŧùl Oct 2016
But a really dire bitter resentment still stays,
Languishing in my memory are those days,
When she was directionless I guided her,
When she felt loveless I pampered her,
It was when she felt physically unfit,
Then I instilled confidence in her,
My social work's she is an heir.
HP Poem #1204
©Atul Kaushal
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