How This Works

  • View. Click on the categories above to view poems that people have submitted. 
  • Vote. Leave a comment to vote for your favorites. 1 positive comment = 1 vote!
  • Submit.  Send a poem of your own to be posted into the category of your choice. 
  • Subscribe. Click here to subscribe. You will know your poem was selected if it appears in the e-newsletter.                                   

Showing posts with label Slam Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Slam Poems. Show all posts

I'm Done (By Anonymous)

I'm done. I'm tired of being everyone's second choice. I'm tired of being the one that asks to do something with someone. Whether that be homework or just chilling or just catching up, im done. I'm tired of being the one who always has that pit in my stomach where I feel like I'm just gonna be bothersome to this person who I'm yet again texting to ask if they want to do homework with me. I'm tired of having the anxiety and the feeling that I'm pushing people even further away because I just want someone to do something with. I'm sick and tired of being everyone's advice giver or favor doer and then feeling guilty asking the same of those people in return. 

I'm tired of being the girl that guys just see as a piece of ass. She's pretty I wonder if I can get in her pants. I'm tired of guys getting to know me and learning that I'm not "easy" and then throwing me aside like slop. I'm really really tired of the feeling I get after being thrown aside like slop, feeling like I'm a prude for not putting out. I'm tired of feeling unwanted other than as a means of helping someone achieve an erection.

I'm tired of hating my body. I can't even look at myself naked in the mirror. I can barely stand to be without clothes on for more than three minutes or else I'll start grabbing at areas of my body and analyzing every inch. Finding every little imperfection I can possibly find. Don't even ask me about food. I'm tired of that too. Not food, my relationship with it. What are carbs?

I'm tired of feeling all of these things. Part of me wants to shut everything out and seclude myself for a while, but wait what if that one person texts me back about studying tonight? They won't

Red roses (By Cynthia)

The blood soaked sweater sleeves screamed "help" as the darkness of the night covered my thoughts and mind slowly seeping into my consciousness.

 1,2,3 I took a deep breath as the blade sinked deeper into my skin forming an external manifestation of the internal pain I felt inside.

 It became harder to breathe as my consciousness slowly drifted away leaving the bathroom tiles covered in red reminding me of roses as I took my final breath.

 The world became silent just for a moment. A few scribbled notes and a lifeless corps were the only things standing.

 An awful death lacking depth, and daddy's little girl who never seemed to learn just why she was this way.

No matter what the author of my life continues to type. You see Death is a fact of life.

And the wheel keeps spinning on and on not allowing me to say I was wrong!

 We move on

AddToAny