Counting Sheep

Lying on my bed, waiting for sleep,
Drifting on in silence, counting sheep.

One, two, three,
He doesn’t love me
I have to break free,
From this insanity.

Four, five, six,
I don’t care what he thinks
I’m suspended at the brink,
If I let go I’ll sink.

Seven, eight, nine,
He doesn’t have time
He couldn’t make it for me,
I don’t need him in my life.

Ten, eleven, twelve,
No more stories to tell
No more memories to make,
No more pictures on the shelves.

Drifting on in silence, counting sheep,
But the one thing I won’t get is a blissful sleep.

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Silent

The world overwhelmed her with so many thoughts,
That she decided to keep them inside
One question after the other was thrown at her,
So she chose to run and hide

The world overburdened her with so much pain,
That she couldn’t express it out loud
She hid behind white lies and plastic smiles,
To put on a show for the crowd.

The world overdosed her so many sorrows,
She swallowed her tragedy away
The thoughts in her mind the most violent of all,
For they were silent till the very last day.

Her words could fill oceans, but she only told them a drop.

Washing Machine

Like the clothes in a running washing machine,

Swirl the thoughts of a slightly psychotic teen

When it’s time to throw in the load, the spirits are high,

But when the switch is turned on, that’s when you hear the cries

Going round and round in circles, the ambivalence is strong,

Torn between the options, the list of choices long

Pop in the suds and the litres of soap,

You’re suspended in midair on a tightrope

The emotions getting cleansed, preparing for the brainwash,

The clothes spinning in circles, the torment won’t stop

Entering in anguish and walking out squeaky clean,

Spinning around in circles in the washing machine

The immediate thoughts repeating over and over again,

Finally they click to place and the ambivalence ends

The puzzle piece was placed and you found the lost treasure,

All because you put in extra soap for good measure

Like the clothes in a running washing machine,

There swirl the thoughts of a slightly psychotic teen.

. . . .

My life is like a washing machine. I walk into the open door with a big grin on my face and as soon as the load gets dumped in, that’s when my life goes around in circles. Add some soap for good measure, and there I am, trying to survive the tidal waves of my thoughts. But once the trauma is over, I am drenched in tranquility. I have clarity. But it won’t be long before the next laundry basket makes its way into sending my life spiraling once again. 

Four Walls

These four walls are my only solace, my shelter from the world outside,
While others would say that they feel trapped, I feel safer when I hide.

These four walls are my sanctuary, no other can I call my home,
I sit crouched inside, blissfully alone.

These four walls house the writings of my heart, the emotions I wish to withhold,
The anxiety that curses threw my veins, the stories I’ve never told.

These four walls are not concrete or stone, but further hidden inside,
These four walls are the prison chamber for the devil in my mind.

Turtle Shell

When life gets too hard and emotions get over me,
I hide under my formidable shell
Noone can harm me or take me away,
I can hide from this resemblance of hell

When life takes the blanket of blackness and wraps it,
Enclosing me in a corner of depression
I duck under my veil of plastered innocence,
And I’m filled with calmer emotions

When life takes the upper hand and locks me in,
Into the valves of negativity I go,
I hide under the covers, behind the scenes,
My feelings they’ll never know

When life hands me misfortune on a silver plate,
And expects me to consume it with tranquility
I hide under my turtle shell, away from the madness,
The darkest spectrum they’ll never see

When life gives me bad news and expects me to take it,
Like it’s not a big deal at all
I hide under my vulnerability, behind that closed door,
I pretend to embrace the fall

When life suspends me at the brink of madness,
I’ll make sure that no one can tell
They won’t know how quickly I’m breaking apart,
Under my turtle shell.

Candles

I waited, I watched, I wished,
As the world around me derided
I don’t know why or how I did it,
But I left my thoughts undecided.

Fluttering in my chest was a sliver of hope,
That you’ll show up one way or another
But once the clock struck ten I wasn’t sure,
Why I had even bothered.

The empty seat in front of me,
Drew eyes all around
It stole the show and my pride,
In self pity I wished to drown.

You told me that you wanted me,
You promised me a date
But when the clock chimed eleven,
I stopped believing you were late.

I could feel the empathy radiating,
From all corners of the room
I pitied myself for ever believing,
Love for me could bloom.

I waited, I watched, I wished,
But the pain was too much to handle
Wallowing in my misery,
I blew out my birthday candles.

Happy Endings

Happy.
Aren’t endings so?
Down and up.
Failure, then success.
Madness, then miracles.
Negativity becomes positivity.
Really, though, everyone says so.
Life becomes better
~One day~
Better, becomes life.
So says everyone.
Though really?
Positivity becomes negativity.
Miracles, then madness.
Success, then failure.
Up and down.
So endings aren’t happy.

Here’s another palindrome poem. If you read the top half backwards, word by word, you get the second half. It looks like a mirror. When read in each way it gives different meanings. Hope you liked it 🙂

Do I Love You?

They say when you love someone,
You love every part
Every inch, every version,
Straight from your heart

They say when you love someone,
They’re always on your mind
Their hair, their smile,
There’s not a flaw you can find

They say when you love someone,
You try your hardest to make it work
You fall in love with even your differences,
Every antic, every quirk

They say when you love someone,
It’s so pure and true
But how come I don’t feel-
That way about you?

Warning Sign

Everything she did felt wrong at the time,
From the depth of her words, to the fakeness of her smile.

Everything she did felt wrong at the time,
For she knew someone was watching from behind.

Something about even the ordinary fet odd,
From the sadness in her laughter, to the distracted nods.

Something about her was different at the time,
For then, there was nothing left in her mind.

Nothing about her was the same that day,
From the stiffness to her shoulders, to the paleness of her face.

Nothing about her felt normal at the time,
Yet no one had noticed the warning signs.

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