Poems about Sadness

Poems about Being Sad

Feeling sad is no crime although the world might wish you to think so. All the feelings in the world never did anybody any harm. It is our feelings that make us human and connect us to the rest of humanity. When you feel sad, it is important to give yourself permission to feel the sadness. Share your feelings with someone who has the sensitivity to give you the space to let the feeling fully be felt. Only then can you begin to let go.

28 Poems that Capture the Pain and Suffering of Sadness

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1. My Feelings To You

A daughter writes about how she feels towards her mom, who abandoned her when she was little.
- By Katarina Alexa Arruda
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2007 with permission of the Author.
Abandoned By Mom Poem

Behind your shadow,
I stand and fall.
It's a tough battle,
In which I feel so small.

Behind your shadow,
I stand and fall.
It's a tough battle,
In which I feel so small.
My feelings toward you
you might think are dumb.
Sad, upset, confused,
angry, hurt, and numb.
When I needed a mom,
you were not there
to talk about boys
or to fix my hair.
Yes, you did call
every once and a while,
but an ocean of tears
hides behind this smile.
Tormented, trapped, and torn,
my heart says I feel.
Seven years after I was born
my heart won't start to heal.
I see other girls
laugh with their moms,
I go dizzy with swirls
and crash like a bomb.
The anger in me
rages in fright.
Always staying angry,
I just think I might.
Time heals everything;
I don't think that's true.
I know something
time did not do.
Time has been flying.
For a long while
I've always been trying
to show a real smile.
One thing that hurts,
and I don't know why,
you moved far away,
and it makes me cry.
When I think about this,
to myself I lie.
I've gotten over you,
that I would not try.
You are a mother,
a mother of two,
me and my brother.
We hardly know you.
Every night I think
of how my life could've been.
tears run down my face,
and my world starts to spin.
These past few years
have been really hard.
For the rest of my life
I'll be severely scarred.
It took me time to realize
what you did to me.
Tears in my eyes,
and you're clueless it seems.
I try to be brave,
it really hurts.
You could've stayed,
instead of making it worse.
I want you to know this.
It's sad but it's true;
you hurt your little girl
and your little boy too!
You ruined me,
you made me cry,
you really hurt me,
and to laugh I try.
There is a hole in my heart
the doctors don't see.
I guess they don't know
what my mommy did to me.
If you want me back,
you have to prove
you can be a mom
to me and Andre, too!
When I screamed for you,
did you hear a sound?
I guess you didn't,
because you were never around.
I will tell you something
you cannot forget.
Once you hurt your kids,
it will soon come to regret.
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My mom abandoned my brother and me. When I was only 11 and my brother was only 10, I took care of him and my little niece and nephew when my mom went out and did her drugs. She'd tell me...

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2. Falling From Darkness

The inspiration behind this poem revolves around a time in one of my personal relationships. At the time, things were really stressful, and I was really unhappy. I felt I had no one to turn to or could escape from the hell I was in.
- By Anne Powers
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 2011 with permission of the Author.
Falling from darkness
To a place I don't know,
Everything's moving with no place to go.
I feel so alone and scared.

Falling from darkness
To a place I don't know,
Everything's moving with no place to go.
I feel so alone and scared.
As I fall, I wonder, "Is anyone there?"

As the days and nights pass right by,
I count the nights; I just lay and cry.
Falling from faith, falling from love,
Please, is there anyone up above?

Never did I want to feel like this
When the answer lies with the slit of the wrist.
My mind is racing to find another solution
Before it's too late and I'm just an illusion.

No one knows how I really feel.
I just want him to hold me and help me heal.
As I fall, I feel the rain.
I begin to think that maybe he isn't the key to ease my pain.
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I can really relate to this poem. I have depression, and there will be days where I just don't want to get out of bed. I'll just cry for no reason sometimes. There is also days where...

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3. Sometimes I Get Lonely

I am always the one waiting for the phone to ring.
- By Emily B
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2015 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Waiting For The Phone To Ring

Sometimes I get lonely
Instagram, Twitter, Facebook
Always connecting but not connected

Sometimes I get lonely
Instagram, Twitter, Facebook
Always connecting but not connected

Sometimes I get lonely
Looking to the future
Forgetting to be in the present

Sometimes I get lonely
Thinking someday, one day
Never thinking right here, right now

Sometimes I get lonely
Phone's on, WiFi's up
Waiting for it to buzz

Sometimes I get lonely
Just waiting...
Always waiting...
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Before Covid hit, I was very happy living my 11-year-old life, but when it did, well I felt very lonely. I relate to this poem so much because everything described (and more) is exactly how I...

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4. Stress Affects Life

How stress takes over with all life's ups and downs.
- By Jody Mark
- Published by Family Friend Poems December 2007 with permission of the Author.
Stress is eating at me every minute and second of the day.
How do I cope with the horrible effects and make it go away?

I feel so tired and run down and I don't sleep.

Stress is eating at me every minute and second of the day.
How do I cope with the horrible effects and make it go away?

I feel so tired and run down and I don't sleep.
I lie in bed at night and wonder why it runs so deep.

Everyone asks why do you look so sad.
Do I tell them that my stress is eating me up and that I feel really bad?

Does everyone notice how I walk around in a daze,
and that I have deep black bags under my eyes nowadays?

I wake up every morning feeling so hopeless,
like nothing ever goes right and wondering why my life has to be such a mess.

Stress is my one worst enemy.
It's taken over my mind and my whole life in every single degree.
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Hi everyone! My name is Tanya Joshi and I live in Almora, Uttrakhand. I am in class 11 and I am much obliged with the fact that stress effects life. However, to some extent I think it can be...

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5. The Girl I Used To Be

I just made so many mistakes in my life that I wish I could take back, but I know I can't. Even though I made many mistakes, I wrote out my true feelings. This poem helped me so much.
- By Laura
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2009 with permission of the Author.
I tell myself that everything's going to be ok,
that there is no reason for all this pain.
The time it took to change, the time it took to
see all those mistakes.

I tell myself that everything's going to be ok,
that there is no reason for all this pain.
The time it took to change, the time it took to
see all those mistakes.
The life I had, I can't have back. The choices I made,
affected me in all those ways.

The mistakes I made have not been forgotten.
The tears I shed, the sounds I made, the feelings
that left me feeling in a different way.
Yet I can't see why these tears feel so unreal.
I'm not the same, my words are unsaid.
What I hide is buried deep inside.

To know, to love, to breathe.
It hurts to know that I'll never be the
girl I used to be. The one that would always laugh,
the one that you knew would always be strong.
The feeling is real, the truth is sealed.
I cry in the dark, 'cause I know I cut too deep.

The blood is like the rain,
in every way it drifts away.
The scars are real, but the wounds in the heart
are another mark.
If you only knew what I've been through,
or maybe you could take a walk in my shoes.

I'm not fake, I'm not a doll,
I just don't think I'm the same in any way.
So where did my soul go?
Why did I ever let it run away?
What happened to that girl?

The one that could make you laugh,
the one that would always take you out?
What happened to that girl,
'cause I'm lost without her?
I'm no longer me, the mistakes changed me,
but did they change her?
If only I would know.
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You are right. My parents say that I’m a loser. My sister says I am very bad. Nobody in my family likes me because I’m not so good with studies and I’m not as beautiful as everyone, but I...

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6. We Wear The Mask

Both of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s parents were slaves, and he was born less than a decade after slavery became illegal. “We Wear the Mask” was published in 1896. Dunbar wrote about what it was like to be African American during the late 1800s and the pain experienced by the black community. In this poem, he writes about how the truth is not always what it appears to be when a mask is used. In addition to applying to race and society, this poem can be applied to any situation where someone uses a mask to hide the truth.

Famous Poem
- By Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
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A wonderful poem Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote many years ago, after slavery was abolished.
How it must have hurt to know his parents had been slaves...

Imagine the pain that slavery...

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7. I Wish, I Dream

I am 11 years old and I have two best friends. Although they are funny and great, I just feel like they don't understand me. I keep all of my sadness inside, and it's killing me. I can't help dreaming of something I'll never have. I have a very heavy heart and sometimes I just cry and cry and cry...
- By Isabel S.
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2015 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Wanting Things To Be Better

I wish I could stop crying,
I wish I didn't have to try.
On the outside I'm smiling,
But inside I'm dying,

I wish I could stop crying,
I wish I didn't have to try.
On the outside I'm smiling,
But inside I'm dying,
I wish I didn't yell,
I wish I didn't pretend,
I wish I didn't feel crazy,
I wish I didn't always feel stuck,
I wish I didn't feel different,
I wish I could start over,
I wish I didn't feel so worthless,
I wish I didn't feel empty inside,
I wish I could just let go,
I wish I didn't need help,
I dream of a life, though I know I'll never have it.
I wish, I dream.
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My smile is fake...
I feel like dying through the darkness...
I try to be brave, but no...
I need friends...but I don't...
I always walk alone...in school and anywhere...
I feel like an...

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8. The Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

Edna St. Vincent Millay was an American poet who lived from 1892-1950. This poem is about maternal love and self-sacrifice. Edna St. Vincent Millay's own mother was very sacrificial. She divorced her husband and worked as a nurse to support her children. Even though they were poor, Edna's mother was an incredible support and encouragement. She made sure her children had access to a variety of reading materials and music. This poem won Edna St. Vincent Millay the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1923. At the time, she was only the third woman to receive this honor.

Famous Poem
- By Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Son," said my mother,
When I was knee-high,
"you've need of clothes to cover you,
and not a rag have I.

"Son," said my mother,
When I was knee-high,
"you've need of clothes to cover you,
and not a rag have I.

"There's nothing in the house
To make a boy breeches,
Nor shears to cut a cloth with,
Nor thread to take stitches.

"There's nothing in the house
But a loaf-end of rye,
And a harp with a woman's head
Nobody will buy,"
And she began to cry.

That was in the early fall.
When came the late fall,
"Son," she said, "the sight of you
Makes your mother's blood crawl,--

"Little skinny shoulder-blades
Sticking through your clothes!
And where you'll get a jacket from
God above knows.

"It's lucky for me, lad,
Your daddy's in the ground,
And can't see the way I let
His son go around!"
And she made a queer sound.

That was in the late fall.
When the winter came,
I'd not a pair of breeches
Nor a shirt to my name.

I couldn't go to school,
Or out of doors to play.
And all the other little boys
Passed our way.

"Son," said my mother,
"Come, climb into my lap,
And I'll chafe your little bones
While you take a nap."

And, oh, but we were silly
For half and hour or more,
Me with my long legs,
Dragging on the floor,

A-rock-rock-rocking
To a mother-goose rhyme!
Oh, but we were happy
For half an hour's time!

But there was I, a great boy,
And what would folks say
To hear my mother singing me
To sleep all day,
In such a daft way?

Men say the winter
Was bad that year;
Fuel was scarce,
And food was dear.

A wind with a wolf's head
Howled about our door,
And we burned up the chairs
And sat upon the floor.

All that was left us
Was a chair we couldn't break,
And the harp with a woman's head
Nobody would take,
For song or pity's sake.

The night before Christmas
I cried with cold,
I cried myself to sleep
Like a two-year old.

And in the deep night
I felt my mother rise,
And stare down upon me
With love in her eyes.

I saw my mother sitting
On the one good chair,
A light falling on her
From I couldn't tell where.

Looking nineteen,
And not a day older,
And the harp with a woman's head
Leaned against her shoulder.

Her thin fingers, moving
In the thin, tall strings,
Were weav-weav-weaving
Wonderful things.

Many bright threads,
From where I couldn't see,
Were running through the harp-strings
Rapidly,

And gold threads whistling
Through my mother's hand.
I saw the web grow,
And the pattern expand.

She wove a child's jacket,
And when it was done
She laid it on the floor
And wove another one.

She wove a red cloak
So regal to see,
"She's made it for a king's son,"
I said, "and not for me."
But I knew it was for me.

She wove a pair of breeches
Quicker than that!
She wove a pair of boots
And a little cocked hat.

She wove a pair of mittens,
She wove a little blouse,
She wove all night
In the still, cold house.

She sang as she worked,
And the harp-strings spoke;
Her voice never faltered,
And the thread never broke,
And when I awoke,--

There sat my mother
With the harp against her shoulder,
Looking nineteen,
And not a day older,

A smile about her lips,
And a light about her head,
And her hands in the harp-strings
Frozen dead.

And piled beside her
And toppling to the skies,
Were the clothes of a king's son,
Just my size.
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The poem is a short, sweet, and precise journey of a great son-mother relationship. It takes one through the sacred and holy shares of time given by a mother in dedication to her child. The...

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9. Different As Black And White

A relationship that was once so in sync is now as far away as black and white.
- By Natasha L. Damian
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2006 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Heartbreak And Confusion

I don't understand
why can't you see
just what your yelling is doing to me
open your eyes

I don't understand
why can't you see
just what your yelling is doing to me
open your eyes
take a look
you used to read me like a book
but times have changed as they tend
to do
and my life is turning into a zoo
tears fall hard
my head starts to pound
and all at once my heart hits the
ground
I don't know what I did to make you
think I can't do anything right
for lately it seems our hearts and
our dreams are as different as black
and white
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10. Skeletons

A child sexual abuse survivor looks at where she is at in life. Lots of Metaphors in this sad poem about skeletons left locked away in a closet.
- By Debbie Grenier
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2011 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Traumatic Memories Like Skeletons In A Closet

The welcome mat outside my door
is dusty, old & worn
'cuz people have been entering in
since the day that I was born

The welcome mat outside my door
is dusty, old & worn
'cuz people have been entering in
since the day that I was born

Most people find my home
to be secure, peaceful, fun
A place you can be yourself,
hang out, enjoy the sun

The walls are splashed with color
each room's a different hue
The halls are adorned with pictures
Some old, some new

There are lots of empty guest rooms
At your beck and call
But there's one room that's off-limits
The one at the end of the hall

This room is the oldest,
been empty many years
Now all it holds is memories,
of pain, lost innocence, tears

In the back stands a closet
locked many years before
A door that will never be opened,
padlocked to keep it secure

Have you ever heard the sound
of rattling bones?
It's an eerie, creepy sound
when on and on it drones

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11. I Sit And Look Out

“I Sit and Look Out” captures the corruption of the world. Walt Whitman, an influential American poet, lived in the 1800s, a time that saw things like political slander, Trail of Tears, slavery, and the Civil War. In this poem, the speaker is merely an onlooker, not someone to get involved in all these negative affairs of society. However, readers might be inspired to do their part to create a positive influence on the world that will lessen the destruction.

Famous Poem
- By Walt Whitman
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;

I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look
out upon,
See, hear, and am silent.
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12. Hope Behind The Shadows Of Pain

Some people hurt us in many ways. They leave us alone to suffer from a miserable life. But no matter what pain we are in, we still have faith, and we hope that our lives will be lightened in a way that we'll be free from the shadows of loneliness and pain. Yes, there is always hope for every darkness in our lives. We just need to have hope and believe we can be free from such pain.
- By Shermain Joy Lipao
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2009 with permission of the Author.
Encouraging Poem For A Lonely Heart

In some people's pretty eyes
There's a great painful disguise,
Disguise that dressed their lonely heart
With devastating cuts that ever hurt.

In some people's pretty eyes
There's a great painful disguise,
Disguise that dressed their lonely heart
With devastating cuts that ever hurt.

Their smiles turned into sobs.
Their laughter turned into screams.
Their days turned into nights,
And their joys turned into sorrows.

But no matter what caused their pains,
They move forward as they wipe their tears,
For in every beat of a lonely heart
There is hope that lights the path.
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13. Sorry

Strength will help you move on. I dedicate this to everyone whose heart has been stained.
- By Teona Johnson
- Published by Family Friend Poems May 2008 with permission of the Author.
A Poem Of Compassion And Understanding

We are sorry for all that has happened.
It hurt us too,
And together we will mend
Your heart all the way through.

We are sorry for all that has happened.
It hurt us too,
And together we will mend
Your heart all the way through.

We will help you realize
That you are not alone.
All that you need is strength, the real prize
And let the true you be shown.

You have not yet noticed how strong you really are.
You could make it too.
With help from us, you could go far.
We can help you make the ultimate breakthrough.

We can help you escape the river of sorrow.
Your heart's been stained with dirt.
We want to help your bloodstream flow.
We understand your heart's been hurt.
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14. The Face In The Mirror

I went through a tough stage in my life, and I started writing bits and pieces down, and eventually my feelings and emotion turned to words on a page. I want to share this with others so that maybe they could relate and I could know that I'm not the only person who feels this way...
- By Catherine S. Liebenberg
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2019 with permission of the Author.
How People See Themselves In The Mirror

What do you see when you look into a mirror?
Do you see a face of grace
or the belief of grief?
Do you see a blessing of success

What do you see when you look into a mirror?
Do you see a face of grace
or the belief of grief?
Do you see a blessing of success
or a complete defeat?

When a girl looks into a mirror,
she sees fat,
so she pays the bills for her diet pills.
She sees hideous,
so she touches up her make-up
and compares what she wears.
She sees undeserving,
so she reclaims the blame
and hides her connection to any affection.

When a boy looks into a mirror,
he sees unloved,
so he goes through books on how he should look.
Though it seems fair,
his heart is never really there.
He sees weak,
so he hides, sealing his feelings
and turns into someone stern.
He sees disappointment,
so he confides in their lies,
and his fears become his tears.

When you look into the mirror,
you allow the face you see to speak:
You're not good enough,
you're not smart enough,
you're not strong enough.
You're not
enough...

Shake your head
and tell them no.
Look again, just a little deeper
and you will see

that there is a strength you hold,
your beauty untold,
your love unfading,
your glory awaking,
a passion you hide,
a light living inside.
It's your story,
and it is full of glory.

A mirror is just glass,
and you are so much more.
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15. Darkness Befalls

This is about when life is at its darkest moment and waiting for the light to shine through.
- By Amorita Maharaj
- Published by Family Friend Poems May 2008 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Waiting For Light To Shine Through

Gliding deep into the forest
Darkness covers me like a blanket
And the mist surrounding me
I feel like there's no way to flee

Gliding deep into the forest
Darkness covers me like a blanket
And the mist surrounding me
I feel like there's no way to flee

I look beyond the broad horizon
See the moon shine over the sea
Like the ocean's filled with sadness
I run, stumble, and try to break free

The path encloses and I'm shattered
Tears of rain encumbers me
Darkness embraces me like a child
Now I wait for him to let me be
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16. Disappointment
- By Coral Leffew
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2009 with permission of the Author.
No one always tells the truth,
Everyone likes better to lie,
No one keeps their promises,
That they would keep me alive,

No one always tells the truth,
Everyone likes better to lie,
No one keeps their promises,
That they would keep me alive,
No one wants to see the tears,
But they're not afraid to make,
No one wants to watch me crumble,
Though honesty they'll fake

Why does everything I love get torn from me?
I'm sure you've heard a hundred times,
But sorrow please let me be,
Just a day I want to live that I don't think of home,
Because here I'm by myself a lot,
Once I was never alone,

You'd think by now these impressions would fade,
But they're set here to linger,
I have self inflicted scars from my elbow to my finger,
Nothing ever happens, no one even sees,
That behind this curtain is the broken, bloodied me,

It's true I write with anger and sadness,
For of all my emotions those are strongest,
This deep, deep, resentment towards the world,
For making me a woman when I want to be a girl,
I loved planting trees and watching scary tv,
Now I'm afraid to go outside, hate's like angry bees,

And no one seems to notice,
No one seems to care,
They've heard this story,
Too many times,
To give a single hair,
Well I know that this will fade,
After all it's just hormones, right?
I really hope my teacher wasn't lying that night,
That one day these cuts will leave,
On another way,
I hope someday I'll find my smile,
That seemed to run away.
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17. Aerialist

Sylvia Plath lived in both the United States and England during her life. Most of the poems written by Plath were crafted in the last months of her life. This poem was written on her 30th birthday, just a few months before her death in 1963.

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- By Sylvia Plath
Each night, this adroit young lady
Lies among sheets
Shredded fine as snowflakes
Until dream takes her body

Each night, this adroit young lady
Lies among sheets
Shredded fine as snowflakes
Until dream takes her body
From bed to strict tryouts
In tightrope acrobatics.
Nightly she balances
Cat-clever on perilous wire
In a gigantic hall,
Footing her delicate dances
To whipcrack and roar
Which speak her maestro's will.
Gilded, coming correct
Across that sultry air,
She steps, halts, hung
In dead center of her act
As great weights drop all about her
And commence to swing.
Lessoned thus, the girl
Parries the lunge and menace
Of every pendulum;
By deft duck and twirl
She draws applause; bright harness
Bites keen into each brave limb
Then, this tough stint done, she curtsies
And serenely plummets down
To traverse glass floor
And get safe home; but, turning with trained eyes,
Tiger-tamer and grinning clown
Squat, bowling black balls at her.
Tall trucks roll in
With a thunder like lions; all aims
And lumbering moves
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18. Suffocating

I wrote this poem when it seemed like my whole life was closing in around me and everything that could possibly go wrong was happening to me. I was losing my family, my friends, everyone who I cared about. And I couldn't seem to see the bright side to any of it. Things are starting to get better now though. It will never be the same again though. Nothing could ever erase all the things that happened...and that will never change.
- By Shalisha Martin
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2009 with permission of the Author.
The clouds are rolling in
And I can't see the sun
The raindrops seem to shatter
Any good that has become

The clouds are rolling in
And I can't see the sun
The raindrops seem to shatter
Any good that has become
I need someone to save me
To save me from this fog
It's trying to suffocate me
It's already begun
It fills my every being
And chokes me at the thought
That everything that used to be
Must be somehow lost
Now I can barely breathe
Yet no one is around
To save me from this torture
To find me in this crowd.
Just hold me in your arms
And tell me its all right
I need someone to save me
Please save me tonight
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Featured Shared Story

This poem is wonderful...it has touched me in soo many ways....I'm currently going through the same things right now and having a hard time in life and it just seems like its not getting any...

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19. Victim Of Poverty

This is a look into what goes on in the mind of someone who is stuck in the hood and how they fall into a rut that feels impossible to get out of.
- By Tommy B
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 2009 with permission of the Author.
From Dreams To Drugs Poem: A Journey Through Poverty

Poverty stricken youth jus trying to make a buck
mom working two jobs and pops don't give a f**k

daddy never comes around

Poverty stricken youth jus trying to make a buck
mom working two jobs and pops don't give a f**k

daddy never comes around
at night the only sound

that can be heard are the sounds of the ghetto
drug dealing, gang banging the sirens of the po po

he finds himself posted on the corner slangin dope
to him it seems like the only hope

to finally get off the block or stay at a dead end job with no raise
so on the corner he stays

high school dropout with no time for class
time at a desk could be spent in the spot making cash

scarface dreams are clouding up his mind
cocaine sales taking up his time

greed has polluted his brain, spirit, and soul
hatred and a heart as black as coal

have takin over him what is he to do
no one gives him an answer looking for a clue

looking to the sky for some kind of sign
all he can see is a life full of crime

until the day the cops get him or his enemies catch him in the wrong hood
wearin the wrong colors, throwin up the wrong signs if he could

change things he'd do anything for a second chance
times up he has a dance

with the devil that's going to last an eternity
another soul lost, but others see it as another victim of poverty.
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20. Tulips

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) wrote “Tulips” while she was in the hospital. It reveals the struggle she had with her mental state. Sylvia wants to die at that moment, but the bright red tulips make her think about life and living. She almost feels as though the flowers are taunting her. “Tulips” was written in 1961 but wasn’t published until 1965 - a couple of years after her death.

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Top 100 47
- By Sylvia Plath
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage——
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free——
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
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Seasonal Poetry Collections

Poems about Sadness

Poems about Being Sad

28 Poems that Capture the Pain and Suffering of Sadness

1. My Feelings To You

A daughter writes about how she feels towards her mom, who abandoned her when she was little.

2. Falling From Darkness

The inspiration behind this poem revolves around a time in one of my personal relationships. At the time, things were really stressful, and I was really unhappy. I felt I had no one to turn to or could escape from the hell I was in.

3. Sometimes I Get Lonely

I am always the one waiting for the phone to ring.

4. Stress Affects Life

How stress takes over with all life's ups and downs.

5. The Girl I Used To Be

I just made so many mistakes in my life that I wish I could take back, but I know I can't. Even though I made many mistakes, I wrote out my true feelings. This poem helped me so much.

6. We Wear The Mask

7. I Wish, I Dream

8. The Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

9. Different As Black And White

A relationship that was once so in sync is now as far away as black and white.

10. Skeletons

A child sexual abuse survivor looks at where she is at in life. Lots of Metaphors in this sad poem about skeletons left locked away in a closet.

11. I Sit And Look Out

12. Hope Behind The Shadows Of Pain

13. Sorry

Strength will help you move on. I dedicate this to everyone whose heart has been stained.

14. The Face In The Mirror

I went through a tough stage in my life, and I started writing bits and pieces down, and eventually my feelings and emotion turned to words on a page. I want to share this with others so that maybe they could relate and I could know that I'm not the only person who feels this way...

15. Darkness Befalls

This is about when life is at its darkest moment and waiting for the light to shine through.

16. Disappointment

17. Aerialist

Sylvia Plath lived in both the United States and England during her life. Most of the poems written by Plath were crafted in the last months of her life. This poem was written on her 30th birthday, just a few months before her death in 1963.

18. Suffocating

19. Victim Of Poverty

This is a look into what goes on in the mind of someone who is stuck in the hood and how they fall into a rut that feels impossible to get out of.

20. Tulips