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Literature Text
The teacher writes to inspire.
So people smile just a little more each day.
The teacher writes about people finding redemption.
Giving the world the positivity he feels is missing.
The young girl writes to feel loved.
So that people like her, and she can be okay again.
The young girl writes about herself.
People may not realize it, but every abused and sad character she writes, is actually her.
The depressed boy writes to stop hurting.
So the bad thoughts will go away.
The depressed boy writes about dying.
He thinks about his own death all the time, and tries to bring the event closer.
The friend writes to help.
So all the sad people, don't feel so bad anymore.
The friend writes about love.
And they give love to all that desperately need it.
The bullies write to give hatred.
So these strangers hate themselves as much as they hate their self.
The bullies write about cruel things.
Awful, mean things that make people cry and hurt.
The author writes to spark creativity.
So today's youth can have active imaginations.
The author writes about a post-apocalyptic world.
One with amazing technology, and happy people.
The mother writes to her children.
So when they grow up, they will always feel confident in theirselves.
The mother writes about her life.
Tales of first crushes, and best friends, things her kids will one day relate to.
I write to expel the negativity and emotions from my mind.
So I can avoid overthinking and so I can feel understood.
I write about horror, murder, and death.
Bloody knives, and horrified screams.
We write to express ourselves.
So the people of today and tomorrow will be influenced by us.
We write about love and death, war and peace, ups and downs, about life.
Because we are the writers.
So people smile just a little more each day.
The teacher writes about people finding redemption.
Giving the world the positivity he feels is missing.
The young girl writes to feel loved.
So that people like her, and she can be okay again.
The young girl writes about herself.
People may not realize it, but every abused and sad character she writes, is actually her.
The depressed boy writes to stop hurting.
So the bad thoughts will go away.
The depressed boy writes about dying.
He thinks about his own death all the time, and tries to bring the event closer.
The friend writes to help.
So all the sad people, don't feel so bad anymore.
The friend writes about love.
And they give love to all that desperately need it.
The bullies write to give hatred.
So these strangers hate themselves as much as they hate their self.
The bullies write about cruel things.
Awful, mean things that make people cry and hurt.
The author writes to spark creativity.
So today's youth can have active imaginations.
The author writes about a post-apocalyptic world.
One with amazing technology, and happy people.
The mother writes to her children.
So when they grow up, they will always feel confident in theirselves.
The mother writes about her life.
Tales of first crushes, and best friends, things her kids will one day relate to.
I write to expel the negativity and emotions from my mind.
So I can avoid overthinking and so I can feel understood.
I write about horror, murder, and death.
Bloody knives, and horrified screams.
We write to express ourselves.
So the people of today and tomorrow will be influenced by us.
We write about love and death, war and peace, ups and downs, about life.
Because we are the writers.
Literature
Stop wishing
I want to stop wishing upon every shooting star
and counting down to 11:11. I want to stop hoping
my wish will come true with every silver penny in
the lake and every wishbone broke. I want to stop
blowing dandelions and candles as though they hold
my future, I want to sweep away my fallen lashes
without closing my eyes so tight that they hurt
just to hope for another silly wish to be granted.
(G.L)
-Stop wishing
Literature
Toothpick Demons
I don’t understand myself
What are these feelings?
Sensations of the soul
Or fractures in my mind?
Even Scrooge said but a toothpick can summon demons
Perhaps it’s that and nothing more
As the raven agreed
Madness or confusion
I know not which
Love or hopefulness
I wouldn’t know
Fixated or obsessed?
Infatuated or depressed?
Lonely, that’s for sure
I don’t see an open door
Closed out, locked up
It’s all just kid stuff
Maybe I’ll grow up tomorrow
Forget this childish sorrow
What’s there to cry over
When you don’t even understand?
Your own self and the things gnawing away
Literature
A Closet Deep
They're not hiding they were forced
judgement worst
with mumbled retorts
quivering red lips sobbing
muffled rebuttals
It's your fault
for
being
you
that sickness
infecting
you
turn the tumblers of coal
they don't want the world to know
who you are
who you have been with
who you kissed women or men
some are forced in catacombs thick
for their closets are deposits
of
fear and shame
for the hand that closes the door
other hands will open them
for you
ones who warden you
Have already confined themselves to claustrophobic cells.
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Random inspiration strikes again!
Of course none of the people are based on any actual person(s) that I know. Except the I. That would be me.
If you'd like you can add in why you write in the comments. *shrugs* Give it some thought.
Like any piece of mine, critiques and feedback are highly encouraged!
What did you or didn't you like about the poem?
Are there any changes you think I need in this poem?
Just tell me what you thought!
Thanks and Enjoy!
Of course none of the people are based on any actual person(s) that I know. Except the I. That would be me.
If you'd like you can add in why you write in the comments. *shrugs* Give it some thought.
Like any piece of mine, critiques and feedback are highly encouraged!
What did you or didn't you like about the poem?
Are there any changes you think I need in this poem?
Just tell me what you thought!
Thanks and Enjoy!
© 2015 - 2024 SarcasticCupcake5
Comments55
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Beautiful!
Well I write to make people feel better 😉
Physically as a doctor
Mentally as a writer