Posts Tagged ‘hurt’

A poem I’ve written under the name “Lauren Black”

Voling Thermo

How subtle this gathering
How lovely this family is
With their eyes locked at
With their lies sealed in
Open lips smacking
When chatting and dining
How so cultural
See how we keep on pretending.

Glory to the queen
And her servants
Here comes the princess
I’m not up for the crown.

How inspiring this welcoming
How faultless everything is
With their mouth murmuring
About outspoken chattering
Bright faces smiling
When inquiring and indicting
Such professionalism
On how we keep on dissembling.

Glory to her majesty
And one of her heir
Here comes the parade
I’m not up for the charade.

I may be never be your favorite daughter
Under secrets and false pretenses attempts
Oh how you’ve become such an exemplary mother
To the neighbors, my sister and both’s friends
But to me you will always be a symbol
One that I could never dare to interrogate
Excuse me for being so upfront and so bold
For I cannot excuse the things you allegate.

Glory to her illustriousness
May the children of her children
Follow on her footsteps
Cause I…
I’m not up for the pretense.

Excuse me for being so upfront and so bold
For I cannot excuse the things you allegate.
Sorry for not trusting the pretexts I’ve been told
For I can never truly depend while you dissimulate.


Deaf Ears

Posted: December 20, 2017 in Angry Poetry, Dark Poetry, Hurt Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Deaf Ears

Nothing that I say will hurt you
Nothing will haunt you in here
And I’m trying as to hurt you as you’ve been hurting me
But you have your apathy which rules over your feelings
And your denial, and you “get out of jail free” card
And the friends who are hypocrites and suck it up to you
How can someone have so much power?
But every empire fall to its feet
Every empire eventually turns to dust
I’m the one to tell you that you’re wrong
While everyone else has been too afraid to
You have too much self-centeredness
I’m the one to pull you down to level the inequality
You feel too proud for the things you do
Like anyone owes you anything
Your lack of self-consciousness
You don’t think about the consequences of your actions
And you deny the aftermath you’ve caused in the lives of others
As if you’re not at fault here
As if you’re not to blame
You’ve been put on a pedestal by wealthy people
And those in need don’t ever deserve your pity
But you’re looking down on them
As if saying “they got there because they didn’t try as hard me”
When you have been given everything on a silver plate
Except for the essential
That’s why you’ll never find out where you come from
You’re half a person
Tearing everything in half
Your heart is putrid
And your love is tainted
You cannot relate
Cause you feel confortable
You feel in the position to say or do whatever
You think that the womb of your procreator is your place in your bigoted empire
You think you come from monarchy
But you have no respect for the respectable, the poor, the needy and the humble
Cause inside your black heart you’re like your ancestors
Selfishly proud of thinking your untouchable
But for me you have become nothing but scum, the worst kind
Let this fall on your deaf ears
‘Cause you only have hearing for those who come to praise you
But for me, you’re insignificant as long as you hold onto your self-delusion of greatness.

That Muscle Called the Heart

So the ghost of the face of you stood frozen in my screen
It’s the most beautiful and heart-breaking thing I’ve ever seen
My fingertips try to feel your life, but they can never reach
I imagine where you are, maybe out there in the mall or enjoying the sun in the beach.

This road here is leading nowhere, I’m stuck in the same place
When I first came I promised my love I’d overcome all this pain
Now I feel like I’m at the end of my rope, the end of this race
And I never amounted to anything, and I have nobody else to blame.

So when will, if ever, this show finally close its curtains?
I’ve exposed my life to the point that everyone knows a piece of me
Don’t you know I want to run and be like it was in the beginning?
With the innocence, and a smile and the hope that everything will fix itself.

So the ghost of the face of you stood frozen in my screen
Reminding everything I’ve lost, and how lost I have been
My fingertips try to feel your life, but they can never reach
I wish I could be for you a good example, but the distance won’t allow me to teach.

You’ll only know what they’ve told you about me
The only person that you’ll have missing in your life
Oh, my children, you don’t know much I wish to have you here with me
But instead I have to confront this endless loop of strife.

This is the last one for the day…

Mouse Wheel

Without this I’m nothing
I think we were designed to feel like this
Feed on your ego, choke on your pride
Cause right now I only feel dead inside.

Without this I’m nothing
I don’t have another way to let it go
You might’ve found success
You might’ve made it
But I’m still battling to find my spot.

I’m not the master of my art
But a slave to it
For everything that hurts
I scribble it.

Without this I’m nothing
And even with it I feel the same
Maybe it’s time to see a therapist
And play their chasing game.

Without this I’m nothing
I only wish for anyone to relate
And help me feel something
When the times come that I can no longer take.

I’m running on this mouse wheel
Chasing dreams that I’ll never catch
How do you think that makes me feel?
That from this pain I can’t unlatch?

When your mind wanders off…

Scribbles on a Note

I wish I was better than this
I wish I could grow some confidence
Cause inside of myself, me,
And I, never trust enough to overcome.

I wish I was better than this
I wish I could believe what you tell me
Cause inside I, die, little by little
Trying to figure out the answers to these riddles.

It’s nothing that I haven’t said before
I’m just lying here in the corner
Crawling here on the floor
Trying to find the missing pieces
That could make myself complete once more.

Nobody wants you to be losing
But nobody likes when you win
They want you in between these two things
But I’ve always liked the extremes.

I wish I was better than this
Wish I could live a simpler life
*Sigh* What is there for me?…
If all that’s true turns into lies?

A poem I wrote last week.

Master of Anxiety

Wasting all of my time doing nothing
But thinking how much of a loser I am
How I am always disappointing everyone
And how much I’ll fuck up again next time.

I’ve tried to overcome all of these thoughts
Tried to medicate with high all of my lows
Swallowed one too many pills attempting to kill this disease
Wishing I could kill my body if it comes to it.

I wish I could disappear in silence
But how much more invisible can I become?
I wish you could understand my anxiety
I was raised to feel like nothing and be alone.

Wasting all of my time here complaining
And thinking how much of a whiner I am
When I’m having it “good” even when I’m bleeding
Always above others as from this belt I hang.

I’ve tried to keep my stupid mouth shut
Tried to swallow my pride and confront my doubts
Zombified my mind with mindless TV ads on display
Wishing I could put my fears right where my body lays.

I wish I could undo this inner violence
But how can you fight something that has become much stronger?
I wish I could get rid of all of this anxiety
But I was taught only to fail miserably and become a loner.

Wasting all of my time staring at nothing
Thinking how much of a fucked up I have become
How I am always disappointing everyone
With the things I’m doing, with the things I’ve done.

I feel like the master of anxiety
But I know I’m more like its slave
Worrying about every little thing constantly
My own soul I cannot even save.

The Narrative

It feels lonely in this empty place of my mind
The ghosts are taking a vacation on the world outside
It’s just me with no other self, no other version
Is this a trap set by them? Are they trying to create a diversion?

The other day I received a message from the land of the living
Those beautiful words gave me a false sense of hope
My heart is convinced that the things to come will be disappointing
Like any suicidal body hanging by the end of its rope.

It’s been week since the last discussion we had about life
You made me enter to that place I hate the most
Jaws semi-open, ears pent up, when you talk of your wife
There’s no expectancy when you’re just a ghost.

I received a phone call the other day; it was a long lost friend
We laughed and smiled and pretended that we were doing okay
How can friendship ever evolved if it doesn’t become trenched?
Over that conversation there are a millions things one could say.

This is the story that has been dictated by the ill-fated mouths
They like to put a little a bit of gore where my body bled
There’s not much hope for Heavens when you’re heading south
They tend to remind about things I try so hard to forget.