Today I Am Going To Run On The Treadmill Until Either My Lungs Or My Legs Give Out

A Broken Vase

This vase is broken.

It is chipped, cracked, and damaged.

It is broken like a million other vases.

Yes, it is broken.

Hurt like a million others, indeed.

Each one uniquely hurt, each one uniquely changed.

This broken vase is worthless.

It is broken. It serves no purpose.

It would be better to throw it away.

No, it can heal.

And when it is healed, it will be unique.

It will be a simple vase no longer.

The broken vase will stay broken.

It will never be fixed to mint condition.

It must be thrown away.

Yes, the damage will stay.

But it will be fixed to be different.

It will be unique and special and beautiful.

This is a broken vase. We must throw it away.

I am beginning to believe that the vase is not the problem here.

She just cant loose!

God Will Weep

God will weep

for the souls of the damned

and the sins of the holy

when I shove my fist through his chest

God will weep

for the poor and suffering

and the mistakes of the greats

when I kick his corpse off the cliff

God will weep

for the sins he has committed

and the suffering of the good

when I shove my foot through his skull

God will weep

for the wrongs he has done to me

and the defects he made me with

when I throw his ashes into the wastewater collection plant

God will weep

because when I find his house

and break in the door

he fucking better cry.

Hello, who are you? I wish to know your story. I see poetry blogs like these, I see them in their void; posting tagless, just screaming out, and I grow so curious. If you’re interested in giving an autobiography to a stranger, just say and I will dm you. My account is anonymous pretty much too.

yall is this some kind of scam or something

There Once Was A Child

There once was a boy who hated himself

for he was afraid of punishment, afraid of failure

so he looked to the world for happiness and joy

and only found short-lived self-deprecating jokes

There once was a boy who thought he was happy

but every day when he came home

tired of his happy clownish facade

he sat down in his chair and thought

as both the jester and the king

in his own court of delusion

There once was a man who knew what went wrong

who hated those who made him go oh so wrong

but inside, deep down, the same man that knew

also knew it was unfair to hate those who wronged him

so the boy kept it inside, the smoldering rage

for he was not a man yet, not in body nor in mind

There once was a boy who convinced himself

that he was happy enough to live in the moment

nevermind the man in his head who told him

about all the things he did wrong, or the wrongs done to him

he was content to live in the moment with the joy of friendship

until that friendship was shattered in every single way

There was once a boy who loved those who wronged him

for he was full of that childish love to give to those undeserving

until the young man burst out with the greatest anger

to speak his mind and wield his fist in the most primal way

for those who had wronged him had aged too much to wrong again

and it was now his turn to wrong them, and assert his own power

but those who had wronged him had aged too much to wrong again

and so the child stopped him, for the child was naive,

and the child still loved all.

There is now only a child who wallows in anger and doubt

about who he is, why he is, and what he should do

who had all the love to give others but found none at all from them

and can no longer love for the sake of love

but only for the hope that someone will love him back

There is now only a man who is thoroughly dissappointed

at the weakness of the child and the perpetuation of failure

who explained how to win as the child chose to lose

for he was only a child who had never felt love

and naively gave away his soul along with his love

and these two continue to bicker and fight

about who was right and who was wrong

and as always only time will tell

only after it is already too late

hmmmm... should I deprive myself of human interaction...?

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I Am A Good Person

I am a Good Person.

I must not get angry.

I must not fight people.

I must not shout.

I must not be angry.

I must not be sad.

I must not talk about my paltry issues.

I must not talk about what I want.

I must not be inconsiderate.

I must not be insensitive.

I must not appear threatening.

I must not allow my face to be percieved.

I must not speak to people.

I must not draw the attention of others.

I must not be extraordinary.

I must not be unique.

I must not appear unhappy.

I must not appear different.

I must not see myself as unhappy.

I must not see myself as happy.

I must not seek freedom.

I must not prioritize myself.

I must not hestitate to help others at the cost of myself.

I must not unshackle myself from the chains of my own design.

I must not escape these chains which hold myself back from both Heaven and Hell alike.

I am a Good Person.

Day and Night

The sun shines brightly

on a joyful new day.

Let us laugh and laugh

until our minds are jelly and paste.

No, I will not

"take it down a notch."

Not for you, for myself, or for anyone.

I am free as the sky.

I know, you know, we all know,

What happens to me when the dreary time comes.

The world falls apart, reality losing its lustre

as all returns to the correct muted gray and _____.

But who cares? Let's not let the spoilsport

ruin our fun. Live in the moment,

Die in the moment, be your authentic self -

For there is no future to look forwards to.

I am Night, the eternal slumber,

once again reminding you of outstanding debts.

Your soul is mine, as ruined as it is,

For even the most damaged of people have value.

Foreboding

I am in the dark

The rain pounds on the windows

My eyes snap open

Time is running out

I can't feel the urgency

What's in the future?

I look but don't see

I understand but can't feel

I know but can't act.

I have one last chance.

I should prepare - the rain stops -

I wasted my time.