Dark Poems
Dark Poems about Life
Sadness and darkness are natural cousins. Since ancient times, people have worn black to express their grief. Happiness is attracted to sunshine and depression to darkness. There is a certain romance in darkness and melancholy. There is something mysterious about that which is hidden and unknown. Dark poems may seek to romanticize sadness and depression. Other dark poems are simply poems about sad subjects. The poem "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe is an example of a delightfully spooky dark poem. There is much room for creativity in this genre.
27 Poems for When the World Seems Dark and Lonely
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1. The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore! -
2. The Cremation Of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Latest Shared StoryMy grandfather, Henry Lorentzen, the pioneer artist of ND, LOVED Robert W. Service and would recite this poem from memory to entertain us grandchildren. He also produced a wonderful painting...
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3. The Ongoing Battles With My Demons
Expressing DespairI peek through blinds that are tightly drawn,
Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn.
I shun the brilliance of another day.
Enslaved and entombed, I stay hidden away.
The night was long as I lay awake,
Anxiety choking like a poisonous snake.
My self-hatred grows like some malady
That I pray will soon be the death of me.
Being hated and scorned is painful indeed,
And that love can be torture, we all must concede,
But to be ignored and forgotten can vanquish one's heart
Until it's in pieces, just shattered apart.
To feel nonexistent is so hard to abide,
When you know that your heart is still beating inside.
And how do you save your sinking soul,
When you feel yourself plummeting into that hole?
My dreams don't provide any rest or relief;
They only replay my regrets and my grief.
I honestly don't know how I came to this place,
But it's clear to me now that there is no escape.
You may call me weak and lowly at best.
I'm trapped in self-pity, I must confess.
I long for some quiet, just a moment of peace,
But my negative voice refuses to cease.
My greatest enemy resides within,
But how can I battle myself and win?
I find this a callous, duplicitous life,
Not worth any effort to fight the good fight.
Surviving, instead of living each day,
Sheltered inside sturdy walls I create.
Fleeting moments when hope will linger so nigh,
But those feelings of wretchedness still once again rise.
Getting through every moment and each empty day,
Feeling lost and panicked in this chaotic maze.
Still not giving up and not giving in,
With my greatest fear being that it won't ever end.Latest Shared StoryWhen words spurt the imagination into someone else's conceptualized perspective. This poem has a pure element I can relate to. Thank you
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4. Cold Dark Corner
There's a cold dark corner
in the back of my room,
it speaks to me
and says I'm coming for you.
As I lie on my bed
in the fetal position,
my eyes are closed
hoping and wishing.
Maybe that one day
my dreams will come true,
that I don't have to be here
so down and blue.
The corner keeps talking
about how I'm going to die,
all I can do
is lie there and cry.
As the corner gets closer
and takes me in,
my soul starts to burn
as so does my skin.
My bones shall lie there
turning to dust,
my bed surrounding
nothing but rust.Latest Shared StoryWe all have ways of expressing ourselves. Some chose not to do so at all. I'm glad that I could help find some emotional security during those times. I hope that you found yourself to be a...
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5. Circus In Three Rings
In the circus tent of a hurricane
designed by a drunken god
my extravagant heart blows up again
in a rampage of champagne-colored rain
and the fragments whir like a weather vane
while the angels all applaud.
Daring as death and debonair
I invade my lion's den;
a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair
yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair
defending my perilous wounds with a chair
while the gnawings of love begin.
Mocking as Mephistopheles,
eclipsed by magician's disguise,
my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze,
winged rabbits revolving about his knees,
only to vanish with devilish ease
in a smoke that sears my eyes. -
6. A Hero
Three times I had the lust to kill,
To clutch a throat so young and fair,
And squeeze with all my might until
No breath of being lingered there.
Three times I drove the demon out,
Though on my brow was evil sweat. . . .
And yet I know beyond a doubt
He'll get me yet, he'll get me yet.
I know I'm mad, I ought to tell
The doctors, let them care for me,
Confine me in a padded cell
And never, never set me free;
But Oh how cruel that would be!
For I am young - and comely too . . .
Yet dim my demon I can see,
And there is but one thing to do.
Three times I beat the foul fiend back;
The fourth, I know he will prevail,
And so I'll seek the railway track
And lay my head upon the rail,
And sight the dark and distant train,
And hear its thunder louder roll,
Coming to crush my cursed brain . . .
Oh God, have mercy on my soul!Latest Shared StoryVery well written but a very disturbing situation. Powerful and powerfully sad.
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7. Out Out
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them “Supper.” At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!”
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.Latest Shared StoryWow! I like it! It is wonderful. I like nature and science. It's very interesting.
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8. A Cry From The Soul
Dark DaysTrapped with nowhere to turn, life is changing beyond my control,
causing this deep ache in the bottom of my soul.
Someone else is pulling the strings,
oh to fly, oh for wings.
Escape, I want to dig my self out,
filled with despair, filled with doubt.
Mute not able to express,
this gnawing pain and feeling of relentless distress.
Tears that are not visible to the naked eye,
silent screams that no one can hear.
I try to speak but nothing can express,
this feeling of sadness and worthlessness.
Emotional pain, walks with me through the day,
and sleeps with me through the night,
leaving me depletes with no strength to fight.
Anger for not having the courage to turn things around,
keeping me anchored to this remorse,
not able to untie the chains and change my course.
False pride rules supreme,
always there to whisper in my ear.
Time, wasted and badly spent,
lots of hurt, lots to repent.
Solace, please come and calm my soul,
for this is what I need to make me whole.
Empathy, what I need is for someone to see,
someone to see the real me.
Love with no strings,
just giving generously amongst other things.
Words, when used as a weapon can cut like a knife,
capable of doing so much damage and take the joy out of life,
but softly spoken and softly expressed
can bring so much happiness.Latest Shared StoryI hope everything has changed, light has fallen upon your soul and love and happiness knocked on your doorstep. No matter what we go through, always pray. Some things happen for reasons we...
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9. Burn The Beauty
Poem About BeautyOne does not own beauty.
One creates it.
In their dreams,
They feel they can obtain it.
All alone, in a dark night's
rest.
All their thoughts...
Lifeless.
Cursed by change
Hidden by lies,
Running from the truth.
Beauty now dies.
They don't understand.
They don't really care.
Beauty now burns
Smoke in the air.
Years go by,
And age seeps in.
Beauty's worn out,
Life is giving in.
Death creeps up,
Beauty now cries.
You're all alone
In your beautiful lies!Latest Shared StoryThis is magnificent! Ever word is placed perfectly in place, and it's just so hauntingly beautiful! But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as cliche as it sounds. But what defines...
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10. Losing Myself
My eyes close.
I'm holding onto
my memories
and hatred.
My slumber
all alone in my head...
so silent.
I can't explain the way
my tears run blood along my veins.
If I let go of my pain,
I'll cease to be, give into the plague...
War is coming,
I can hear it in my heart.
Blood will flow
along the grounds of the innocent.
I can't deceive
the darkness anymore...
I'm letting go, I'm losing control of myself...
you beat me down,
so low and now
I'm crying my soul.
I'm losing control.
You led me to
a place where I
can't feel my face...
Death is just an anesthetic
for what's to come.
A body left behind with no face,
feeling numb.
All alone, I cry here,
fading into nothing.
All alone I lie here
dying...
...losing myself...Latest Shared StoryI've been in this dark place for awhile now too. I haven't smiled since he broke my heart two weeks ago. I just wanted to comment by saying thank you for sharing this poem because it let me...
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11. The Wicked Path Of Destiny - The Death Of Mankind
I walk the face of earth once more,
a mindless puppet; my strings are torn.
The creaky bones, the bad eyesight,
yet the chance to turn wrong to right.
Wars-a-waging, old man's guilt,
the world's now on more then just a tilt.
Parents weeping, children slain,
bloody thoughts, fear will reign.
I look in the shadows, a creature did lurk.
He whispered to me, hiding a smirk.
"Thou shalt be killed if thee can't find
the demon lurking in thou mind."
So off I ventured to quench my thirst,
of corpses piled with hearts-a-burst.
And on that quest what did I see?
The wicked path of destiny.Latest Shared StoryThis made my heart skip a beat! I love where your mind goes. This is such a great poem! Where can I find more???
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12. Depression Is Never Ending
Wanting Depression To Go AwayDepression is here every day,
And it never goes away.
Go away! I yell into the dark,
As if someone is there.
I feel as if I'm a prisoner
In the dungeon's lair.
And as always, no one cares.
Do I dare?
Dare to care about anyone but me?
Could it be,
Someone there?
Someone there to care?
No, just an image.
That's the way it will always be,
No matter how hard I try.
I just want to get by.
I go through life day by day.
I thought pain was supposed
To go away with time,
But it's not.
It's still here,
Here with the fear,
Fear that I will get hurt more.Latest Shared StoryOk love, look. I know how it feels when you're so young but you only feel like ending it. I've been there, and I wanna tell you something, and it's the most cliche thing to say. Get help, and...
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13. Darkness' Grasp
Attempted SuicideI'm swimming all alone in a pool of darkness,
and I feel like darkness is slowly pulling me under.
I yell for help, but no one is there to hear it.
I begin to see the water at eye level
and I kick and flail,
fighting to stay above the darkness,
But the darkness won't let go of its hold on me,
and I slowly begin to give in,
to the feeling that lies below the water line.
The waters starts to fill my lungs,
the lungs that once held so much life,
yet now they allow the murky water to replace that.
I know that this path doesn't lead to happiness,
but why doesn't someone grab my hand,
pull me from darkness's grasp?
Because no one knows I stand at the boundary,
the boundary between light and dark,
so I give in to the thing that holds me.
All of the strength and all of the courage
that I once held in my heart
can't save me from the water,
so I slowly slip below the world of consciousness,
undetected by the occupants of that world.
I don't want to fight anymore.
I've given into darkness.
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14. I Will Wear Masks
In times of trouble and insanity,
I carry masks to disguise
the pain I carry
secure behind my eyes.
I can never let out again
the misery I hide.
To hell with my dignity,
to hell with my pride.
From this day forward,
and forevermore,
I will mount this mask
that will be my lore.
No reaching out when I am weak,
no solace will I seek.
When you look for answers,
when you say your prayers,
all you will see are masks,
and no pain that I bare
JOE DIRT JUNE/2010Latest Shared StoryThis poem truly spoke to me. It's so accurate on so many levels. Life has been hard, and I've had to grow up fast. I've had to be strong and show no panic so my mother would think everything...
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15. Demon's Wrath
Whisper it, don't let them hear.
Be careful; it's them you should fear.
Follow them, do what they say,
And for your sake, don't run away.
Their hearts are as black as black can be.
Their souls chill you to the bone, don't you see?
They'll lure you into their arms and tear you apart.
Then they'll suck the blood out of your heart,
Leave you gasping for air that surrounds you.
I know it sounds unreal, like it's not true,
But don't look at them, don't ask who they are.
Their darkness surrounds us from afar.
Don't provoke them, don't make them mad,
For if you do, the outcome could be bad.
The demons will rise through the land.
The darkness will clasp your cold, icy hand.
You'll remember all your darkened power,
And the demons will rise in the night's darkest hour.
They'll lead you to a darker path,
And you'll be the one to unleash the demon's wrath. -
16. A Night In Sorrow
I watch as the blood trickles down my arm
I close my eyes and hope for you to come.
I never knew what it was like to be alone
All I want for you to do is come back home.
I feel the pain, the burning and the pleasure
I feel so confused and so full of pressure
I sit in this dark room with no one around
All I want from you is love and care
I notice that I won't get my wish
But now I wait for the sun to rise.
To fill this room with light.
As I watch I see how many scars I have
Bleeding for desire and pain
I look in the mirror of my room and look
I watch as these tears flow endlessly and
What I realize what I was waiting for
was for me to return to normal. -
17. Death
Inside I'm Full Of DeathTime stops
And stands still
Each day
Seems like a year
I'm lost
And can't be found
In this darkness
I lay dying
Cold
Empty
And alone
It holds me down
And won't let go
There is no escaping
it consumes me
until there's nothing left
I may look fine
But on the inside I'm full of death -
18. Behind These Walls
They watch the world
with open eyes.
They haunt the world
with an open mind.
They see you move
as you live in this world.
But behind these walls
lies a deep, dark universe,
one where the light can't shine through.
A world where they lurk,
they play and hide.
Behind these walls, there's a world inside.
If you dare to look
or even hear,
go ahead, face your fear.
You'll join this world
one cruel day.
So sad it'll be,
but they can't hear you say...
Behind these walls
lies a deep dark universe,
one where the light can't shine through!
A world where they lurk
and play and hide.
Behind these walls there's a world inside...Latest Shared StoryI’m inspired by this poem because it speaks about how the world is, and I can see that the writer took her time to find just the right words to reflect the title.
This section said a lot... -
19. Just A Small Cut
Poem About Cutting WristsCrimson red fills the bowl and I think I'm going to be sick.
With every thing spinning so fast I cannot breath.
Walls closing in and everything fades.
Fashes of light come by, one, by one.
Feeling sleepy not knowing your name.
Not knowing mine.
There it is. my favorite thing of all this,
ah the feeling of pain is gone from before and new form enters me.
Laying here waiting for you to come home.
I open my eyes and see flashes of you and me from before you went.
You walk inside.
You call to me and wait for an answer.
You hear small light breaths coming from the bathroom.
thinking it is me, you walk down the hall with a smile.
the kind that makes your knees go week.
You walk in. Oh god, is all you can think.
I'm trying to look up at you but I can't move.
a cold chill comes over me as you pick me up.
You say we are going to the hospital and that everything will be ok.
You rush me in.
Blood running down.
The nurse rushes you to a bed so I can lay down.
I can hear you asking her something.
But I can't make out the words.
I feel something cold and wet touch my face then my arm.
I feel the prick of a sharp object go in my right arm.
The nurse says that I need stitches because the wound is to deep.
I feel the thread go in and out through my arm.
And a band-aid go around and around.
After I have slept for two days they let you in.
I can move again and open my eyes.
You say that I got 76 stitches because the cuts were way to deep.
And that I almost died.
I pull off the band-aid and look.
I see over 20 cuts and begin to cry.
You tell me its ok and we will get some help.
About 5 years later.
We have two to deal with ourselves.
Jake and Emma.
A beautiful baby boy and baby girl.
The scars are still there.
Some times I wish I could go back 5 years and change what I did do so I can make it right.Latest Shared StoryHi Leah! I hope you're better now. It's hard going through the things you are going through. But I can tell you that yes you'll be happy. Life is a series of good and bad moments. Some bad...
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20. Unseen
Confused With What's Happeningyou are trapped in a cage..
no one sees it.. not even you..
you don't know what it's made of..
you don't even know where it came from..
but you feel it.. it's all around you..
it is full of strength
that it forbids you to move freely..
it separates you from your wisdom
and it strangles your thoughts..
you are robbed
but you don't know what was taken..
you're in a place
but you don't know where you're heading..
you don't even know how you got there..
or who has brought you there..
you know you've been through a lot
but your memories are distorted..
it is seizing you little by little..
you can't stay but you can't go..
you are trapped but no one sees it..
NOT EVEN YOU..Latest Shared StoryI really like this, I was thinking of getting a tattoo for my 18th of a bird cage with the door open but as the bird tries to fly it is still chained down and I thought this poem actually...
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Alone Poems
Depression Poems
Regret Poems
Crying Poems
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Rape Poems