Poem Compilation
The Point, The Underdogs, The Halls
The Point:
Author’s Note:
- This story is a story about bad mental health and bad self thoughts. Have fun in life and don’t let others discourage you to do you something you want to do, and don’t let them encourage you do something you don’t want to do. Live your life, and let them live there’s. Everyone wants a friend, nobody wants an enemy.
What’s the point?
When no one cares…
What’s the point?
When you’re in despair…
What’s the point?
Of even trying…
What’s the point?
Of asking questions…
What’s the point?
When your hurt,
When your tired,
When your scared,
of the others…
of the people…
of the bullies…
But what,
what was that?
You know, you know the point,
Whisper it in my ear,
it’s a secret, ain’t it?
It’s a secret…
it’s not?
Scream it,
Shout it,
Yell it from your rooftop,
Say ‘You’re perfect, just the way you are!’
That’s the point.
There it is, go now,
pass it on.
Say ‘You’re perfect, just the way you are!’
The Underdogs :
Author’s Note:
- This poem is also about feeling underneath the others and how they can make you feel bad about yourself and make you feel beneath them, but you have to persevere through it and you will make. You got this and go live a happy life!
There isn’t a place,
no places for me
no place for the…
the underdogs
Everywhere you go there is someone,
an evil one.
At school the halls aren’t safe,
at home the building is unsafe
Where do I hide?
Where do I save myself?
Me,
an underdog.
You,
an underdog.
The others hate me,
no one supports me,
I have no where,
I don’t have a home.
Home should be loved,
School should be educated.
There isn’t a place,
no places for me
no places for the…
the underdogs
H
E
L
P
M
E
.
.
.
.
.
The H A L L S :
Author’s Note:
- This is a bullying story related to having a sad day or life. It imvolves gossip and getting stabbed in the back. With that being said, let’s try to impact the world the best we can.
Step, step, step, step
one foot, two foot, left foot, right foot
A young girl, younger than the rest
in a halls full of…
Some sentences you shall not finish
Especially if you are…
not risking depression upon yourself.
Especially if you are listening to…
The halls full of…
Boom, boom, boom
In the halls full of…
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
In the halls, there are few who you could name,
kind
respectful.
A young girl, much younger
she’s eleven, most are fourteen.
She stands 4’8”, most stand above 5’7”.
She minds her own business
lurks in the shadows
doesn’t talk
not in the halls
Behind her a constant
STOMP
STOMP
STOMP
STOMP
In front of her a constant
STOMP
STOMP
STOMP
STOMP
No one is left unheard
not in this herd.
Behind her she hears
M I D G E T
S H O R T
OH MY GOD
LOOK AT HER
SHORT AS H***
She walks alone in the shadows
doesn’t bother a soul.
Though they bother her
in the halls full of…
The young girl is mute
she is tuned out by her own voice
she is no longer a normal girl.
The young girl is harmed by the toxic words
in pain she stands.
This girl feels alone
U N W A N T E D
…
…
…
The End
About the Creator
Keep reading
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The Darkness Within
TRIGGER WARNING: INCLUDES HARSH GRIEF AND SUICIDE ATTEMPT I open my eyes slowly. I can’t remember how I ended up in this darkness. The last thing I remember… it was Papa. I was laughing and laughing and then the floor shook and he grabbed my hand and said I can’t let go but then something took me from him. We didn’t even let go, I was taken from the air. I realize I’m sweating and start to calm down. I see something in the grass below me and pick it up. A candle. I quickly snatch a match out of my pocket and light the candle. I look around and only see eyes. Bright yellow eyes. I gasp softly and they start approaching. I hold my breath and look back. More yellow eyes, I see a lake in the distance. I think about how Papa isn’t here and how Momma left and these yellow eyes trying to kill me, and I jump. I run and jump. The notice the yellow eyes disappear. I feel drowsy and some much pain and I stay down trying to die, trying to disappear. I feel myself collapsing underwater and then I feel someone pull me out. Dragging me slowly across the grass. I feel a slight bit of warmth before I fall asleep and lose consciousnes. I wake up expected all of it to have been a dream. Wanting to have Papa holding me in his arms, wanting Momma to come back home, wanting to see my home again, wanting to hurt however it was that took me from my home. Revenge is a sweet thing, sweeter than sugar. I snapped up and didn’t recognize the place I was in. What was happening to me? I noticed a picture on the wall. An old one for sure. It was of an old man, a very old man who was smiling. It was framed, but you could tell it was still really old. I feel a surge of sadness wash over me before I look over and see a boy across the room. He’s still asleep so I leave the room slowly not to wake him.
By Writers Weekly2 years ago in Fiction
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