Broken
I want to feel loved
And cared for
And happy
I want to feel free
And careless
And wild
I want to feel hate
And stress
And darkness
I just want to feel something worthwhile
Because I have been left broken
Sad poems
Sad poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
The Choice
It wasn't her fault.
None of it was.
The grades gone wrong.
And he blamed 'that boy'.
'Its not him'
She said through the tears.
'You have a choice' he bellowed.
'Fine I choose him'.
Those words now haunt him.
Taunt him.
Day and night.
His little girl grew up.
In one day.
'Why?' He asked
'Oh the choices I gave'.
Sleep Forever
I want to stop waking up early everyday
I want to sleep forever
I want to forget
I don't want to suffer anymore
Those Shouldn't Matter Anymore
The goals and plans we made?
When we were together?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
The promises we made?
Only to break them?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
The compliments we gave each other?
Only to find out our true selves?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
Even though we're now mean to each other,
We now have our own separate ways.
That shouldn't matter.
Yet why do I care?
Why do you care?
Why does it matter?
Broke me down
No love can hold me back
No words can reach me now
No hands can comfort me now
No lies can get me out
Cause
Your love
Your words
Your hands
Your lies
ONLY BROKE ME DOWN!
Heart breake
In The moment she went, my heart broke in 1.000.000 shards
The cold Autom wind crawled through the holes in the facade into the small, dark room, whirled up my orange curles to a tornado and then disappeared with the remnants of my heart into the empty of the night.
If I'd really wanted to, I could have picked up the shards and perched them together .
But why the effort?
I haven't felt anything for a long time...
At least not until I met her.
* * *
I miss the way you hold me tight and tell me you want more time.
In those moments it feels like we have nothing but time and after you're gone it passes too fast.
Blink and you might miss something,
I blink and I miss you.
You're not one I can call mine,
You wander and change like the tides of the sea.
But one thing I know about the sea, it will always come back to the shore.
I am that lonely shore waiting for your water to grace me, but times are different now.
They're difficult.
I cannot call out to you and ask your return,
It isn't like that anymore
I just wait patiently, never moving, never changing.
Watching time move swiftly as days turn to weeks,
The Listener
His name was Tim McKay,
And he seldom had anything to say.
But he came to the club regularly
And listened to all our discussions.
He'd nod his head and smile,
And give us a toothy-giggly grin,
And he always seemed to understand.
Tim has gone on now.
And we all miss him down at the club.
We used to sit and talk to Tim for hours.
Exile
He went
the symbol of sorrow
into that huge country
knowing neither language
nor custom
to remain
always
the stranger among strangers
to stand in his age
straight as a board
with lancers
of the non-existent army
I Die of Thirst Beside the Fountain
they pass & i turn
but you know this
the act
revolves around itself
my time
goes marked by letters, some
enthusiasms vanish, in arguing
with you i've used up many books but
the work is too much. i have no
energy
to mould them sky darkens now
the snow is grey sounds of cooking a
movement of plates
this room is cold
and i'm in trouble
Coyote
Coyote makes a diary of sadness
in the mountains, deserts
and plains where he lives.
alone, and he sings from it.
At night,
even where Pig can hear,
it moves
in and across Pig/s eyes
and in pig/ears, near
where his brain
ticks: what they will do is make
meat of me
bacon and chops
a-roast-pig, and whatever else is
tasteful (Coyote
sings from it.
Poem for Hustlers
a roman candle
the young queen:
Claree/screaming/spewing
bright colors everywhere
& falls like a pile of gray ashes
on 42nd street
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