Why am I still here? Everyone I relied on, idolized, even. They are all gone. Yet the one with a monster is still here. It's as if a million wars is better than one.

Why am I still here? Endurance and tolerance is not a good thing. That is probably what led to their downfall. When you learn that truth, you go out in a blaze of glory.

I keep questioning my existence. It's because the one told to die by his demons, somehow survives the longest. Does it make me strong? Oh god no. Does it make them weak? Also no.

I keep questioning my existence. How come one simple setback gives you a reason to die? My life has only been setbacks, yet I'm alive. I thrive, I learned to cry, I learned to thrive.

Why am I still here? I have a prolonged period of scars, so many scars that a novel can be read in braille. Yet one measly mark, and you give up, my friends? I taught you nothing, have I? All I taught was a lie?

Why am I still here? I will never know. But what I do know is that I must continue to grow. Maybe my next set of friends will learn to grow. I wonder when those friends will show.

Why am I still here? I. Do. Not. Know.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/tA8NkcsRoC

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/1y4UrR5SFt

The tongue has the power to speak to the heart.

It can be very difficult to find the right words

to say, even when we know exactly who we’re addressing.

We are not as innocent in nature as our hearts.

Getting it to open up is much harder than giving

it a reason not to. It's afraid to slip up.

Instead, we switch up—a heart pretty enough to stitch up.

In a nightmare, this heart lives, counting the dead,

hiding a secret monster from under the bed.

It sounds like another cartridge dropping to forget,

leaving holes in my chest, pumping instant regret.

Your own heart being aced like a test. You’d think I wouldn’t need to spell out the rest.

Alright, Johnny Test, that’s enough from your end. A wounded monster saying, "I should’ve gone for the head"

is a great plan for a heartless man. Monster or not, a devil will give you details before putting out the bait.

He isn’t looking for a cod or some clownfish. He found Nemo before he was lost and bet against his heart,

flaunting his scar while rivaling him like a shark. He wasn’t underestimated or asked for his best joke.

He was a fish compared to the ocean, battled for glory and sought as an opponent, earning the nickname "Sharkbait."

Even in a kids’ movie, Nemo could drop whatever boring shit he was learning in first grade

to continue learning the rest of his grade, now as keeper of his name and honored at the top of the food chain.

You know, Nemo, I’m somewhat of a funny-looking fish myself.

1

2

so stay with me
I know
you’re late

eerie
it’s only eight
and you’re
already a
filthy shade
of grey

I can see
the moonlight
so come bathe

I

II

If we’re only to get used to

skies changing hues

and horizons expanding

to no standstills,

then maybe I’d want to just

retract my tears

sleeping alongside raindrops

and tree saps.

Because look, how lucky are the birds

for being just be;

they do not have to be anything

but the flier.

For heavens forbid, I actually try

much – my soils, to uproot –

dare I? want more than what’s raw?

Say, mirror in the sky,

is this justly – how my very earth ties

...only to these drought seeds?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xNl4tA9Vdo

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4gtqbSH7mI

So maybe you do shift

A sightless contortionist of a

Bat-like little woman

Metamorphic flight, ego trip

Bite off your hands, stretch the skin

And sew them to your hips

Glare, wide-eyed, into a whitened sun

Listen to thunder in a resonant canyon

And, in the everything, you’ll know nothing

Then you’ll be airborne

You freaky, perverted thing

With your rippled flesh

And your paper wings

Tethered to a dusky sky

Reclusive and unseeing

Vicious girl, all so vain

Caught between bird and man

Tall, ungainly, mature for your Age

You are a bat thing

Fanged with reddened eyes

Grotesque and screeching, starving

Deaf, deaf creature of the night

With no call to lead you

And only astigmatic eyes to guide

Neither the song of a lover

Nor the colors of a rainbow

Will touch you in your willful abstinence

And in this sleepy, barren sorrow

You hang nooseless

Condemned to never know

What you will not know

feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vM7l7Odhys

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/e0S5uZUIbX

Ha! The Child’s eyes look like old milk—

Nasty little bug—drowning in old milk.

And sitting in a red seat,

King cockroach wraps his little mandibles

Around itty bitty globs of Light.

/

Every rainbow colour coagulates. Ha!

In the child's old eyes.

All Our beauty tears over bread knife hands—

Messy cut of colour,

Al dente spectrum. (pulled out by black)

/

Little like saucers. Ha! Like saucers.

Like old black milk,

With little hands poking.

Sharp little lust for

Light. For Light.

1 2

your hand was sweet, soft a catch glimpse in the bleak ocean you call your eyes your shadow a haunting dance your clothes enchanted lyingly intertwined watching the stars almost as far away as you are now your knifes in me again every twist a new betrayal your phantasmal joy springs I'm just a cheap thrill to you and your just everything to me

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fzwgno/the_sun_still_shines/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fztc40/only\_writing\_about\_it\_makes\_it\_all\_ok/

your hand was sweet, soft a catch glimpse in the bleak ocean you call your eyes your shadow a haunting dance your clothes enchanted lyingly intertwined watching the stars almost as far away as you are now your knifes in me again every twist a new betrayal your phantasmal joy springs I'm just a cheap thrill to you and your just everything to me

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fzwgno/the_sun_still_shines/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fztc40/only\_writing\_about\_it\_makes\_it\_all\_ok/

One thing we all wish to know Is what we’ll come to be

It can be what moves us foward But as a distraction from our need

Because as time goes on It all stays the same

Nothing really changes It’s all the same old game

Look at yourself in the mirror And imagine your future self

Because you’re looking right at it There is no time to tell

there’s a race among the people To make their way in life

To become a newer person Like a double edged knife

And if you pay attention closely You’ll understand how

Why wait for maturity When we’re our oldest selves right now

Just a lil poem I wrote while thinking deep what do you think 😃 Also I think the structure might get messed up when I post this but whatever lol

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TBqwsrQEEI

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/HJcfOg7xN2

Do things happen for a reason?

Days after she left me you appeared— My eyes shifted to you like a child’s seeing a diamond necklace.

Were you led to me? Do things happen for a reason?

I lingered near you, waiting for an opportunity to speak, but you walked over and approached me.

We spoke, I felt an instant connection. “There’s something about you,” we both said.

Were you led to me for a reason?

I fell so hard, but you didn’t.

Do things actually happen for a reason?

I guess I’ll wait and see.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vBAb9m2DmU

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/FoYr6rKTlu

some spirit possesses us
  from soup too soon in sinking
in haste albeit, beleaguered by brother

our gut we girdle for garnish's gain
  while wasting wine, we wane
    in our want and wanting, we whine
      unsteady and unsound
till we drown

now which tonic to take?
  while wasting on wine
unsure and undecided

beleaguered in bed
  girdled, gleaming and garlanded
    engrossed by Girth
      we gape and gorge
on Hordes we whore

our lust and longing
  leaves us least
    we shall not rise as yeast
but shall take the Beast

Up hind
  we hinder
    To Him most Haughty
      Huge and Hung
        Veins Vivacious and Virulent
          Pulsing and Proud in Posture
we vie for His Vigor

The Beautiful Bustling Bull, Bulging, Black, and Burly
  Brushes from beyond the brow
    and through our bow
      now Beating across our backs
        we squeal and squirm
          for Stud Soo Stern
            from skeg and stern
              in ecstasy we yearn
                to take without turn
                  A Tonic to Tamp our teething
A Marvelous Milk we Moor

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1grgufz/need_honest_reviews/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gri0xn/all_atop_a_wearied_world/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ceHftkiCCu

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CzHEh8YB5X

They came from the sky

Falling slowly like snow

I knew this day would come

But how it turned out

No one would have known

They numbered in the millions

Their faces look familiar

The world stopped and gazed in wonder

As they arrived a feeling stirred in all

For some it was hope

For some dread

What is that symbol they bare

It's a swastika

We got space Nazis instead

When the sky seeped it's bloodied clouds

Above the gathering and raucous crowds

Who slept atop a gaping gorge

Deep beneath the abandoned forge

Where we swung our hammers into steel

Working hard to earn the meal

To fill our cavity and bring us to

Dreamy nights of lonesome few

Thoughts of good or ones of peace

Replaced, instead, by lathered grease

Smeared on the banks of a rotten shore

A rancid river to it's hateful core

Grease to burn and land to steal

Bones to break and skin to peel

From faces trapped in infinite pain

Watched by the vagrants on the train

Pleading for mercy, all in error

For the lords won't forgive atop this tearful Terra

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fx824x/arrogance/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1fxcrf8/mental_break/

Helloo so basically i know nothing about poetry you can say But i was just sitting and suddenly some lines came into my mind and i made a small poem Its actually for my girlfriend i made it while thinking about her i aint a professional i just want some feedback from the people who actually Inow about poetry and poems and all So my poem is actually called

"You are perfect"

You're like the sunrise after a long winter's night, You're like the first rays of sunlight that hit the face and make it glow, You're like the warmth of the sun on a cold day, You're like the light of hope in a dark tunnel, Like a star in a world full of space, Like a beacon of hope.

Your smile is like a charm to my soul, It holds the power to make a dead heart alive, The power to make a war stop, And the power to make a stone melt.

Your voice is like peace to my soul, A medicine to my longing pain, Calmness for my mind, And a melody for my ears.

Your laugh makes the flowers bloom, Makes my heart skip a beat, Puts my soul to joy, And makes the world a brighter place.

(I just want to know if it's any good because i need it to be good before reading it to my girlfriend)

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/L4N7dz841V

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CKW8J239QL

You came again, creeping in,
unasked, unwanted, filling the air.
I see you. I feel you.
You’re relentless, aren’t you?

I push back, tell myself you’re nothing,
just a shadow, a passing fog.
But you’re clever, aren’t you?
You don’t need words, you don’t need reason,
just a slow seep, like ink spreading in water.

I fight you.
Try to hold myself in the light, to feel the warmth,
to remember what clear days feel like.
But you pull, you press, you linger.
And I feel myself giving in, just a little,
leaning into the weight of you, the quiet.

Maybe it’s easier this way,
to let you settle in, let you stay a while,
to sink into the comfort of what’s already known.
I hate that thought, hate how you make it feel simple,
like slipping into cold water
and letting the numbness spread.

But here you are, filling the room.
I can’t ignore you, can’t fight you forever.
So maybe I’ll let you stay,
just for a moment, just until I remember
how to breathe again without you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NDMtyXoGjL https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0Lje5hGHo1

I have heard it said

That hell is other people

Backwards that, I think

A mans hell is himself

Adams Asmodeus is in the mirror

And his salvation is in the company of others

For what is the measure of but one man alone?

Is it the number trips around the Sun he’s survived?

The heft in kilos of dead weight he could carry?

The miles of sand or soil he dragged himself over?

Pardon me if I’m a little scatter-brained

A man shot himself yesterday

A boy, actually, I think

Painted the wall with his thoughts

Having been alone in a room with them

And the closest thing to comfort

A cold nine millimeter and it’s bark-song

Held tight in his unshaking hand

That broke his teeth before

Drilling a small borehole in the wall Behind him

It was surrounded by rolling drips of reds and chunks of pinks

Like an homage to this painter

Whose works I mostly dont remember

That left a single perfect black dot

On every canvas she used

I never had learnt what that meant

I have also heard it said

That the author is dead

Bang on, I think.

This self portrait by a young artist,

His string cut short by Atropos,

We’ll now never see

Any explanatory annotations for

He wouldn’t be the first to leave dark

Fantastic Vision on walls

Intended to go unseen

Wordless suicide notes to no one.

Depicting a mental state we can

Never fully appreciate

I try now to learn, I think

From that kid who was well beyond the brink

But all that goes through my mind

Is the thought that there's no more

hell left for him to find

1 2

I am still trying to figure out how to format things properly on reddit, I apologize for that

People bother me again, To be everyone but me.

How can I survive, In a body that is not me.

People bother me me again, To worry about who I love.

How can I survive, With a baby that is not me.

People bother me again, To be with god or be damned.

How can I survive, If I’m wondering how to be good.

People bother me & I couldn’t tell who to be or how to survive with no sense of direction.

What else can I be, If I could only be me.

I need to have a dream, a dream that is me, where I get to be so dang free!

To do it or die, Who else can I be, But me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/txsv8Se269

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ooNzedbW7n

Seven is the unlucky, Zero is not, Seven is yucky, Together we’re not.

Can people be lucky? I think so not. Can i be unlucky? Maybe i was.

Was 0 worth me? Was he the slut? You liked my plea? I think so, not?

The wind is warm, The lake rocks, Unlucky seven We ran out of luck.

Together for 5 and more to come, This ends here, now we are done.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JWjgpTzJVa

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/d8x5ixsR01

(I don't actually have a title for this piece if you want to suggest something)

One

You always are, always have been, and always will be, acutely aware of the way you might look to other people.

Even when you are alone you will feel this way.

Is there a strand of hair out of place?  Is your shirt wrinkled? Would someone else be able to smell what you can smell?  Under your arms? Between your legs?

Two

You like to go to the laundromat near your house well past midnight.  You think that if no one is there you might spend less time wondering if the face you see in the mirror is really yours.

You like the way the washing machines and tumble dryers thump rhythmically and how it is always the same.  You like the smell of detergent and the way the neon storefront looks through the steamed window panes.

You like the cat that sometimes sleeps outside the front doors and the way his black fur looks blue when bathed in florescent lights.

Three

You separate the colors of your clothes into lights, darks and whites.  You fill a cap full of liquid detergent.  You worry you poured too much and that suds will pour over the floor.

You pour half the detergent back into the bottle.

You see a man smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp across the street.  You wonder if he can see you through the steamed windows and the glare of neon against glass.

You do not have enough quarters for three loads of laundry.

Four

You have to walk across the street, past the man and the cigarette, to get to the convenience store behind him.  There they will give you change for the twenty you have in your pocket.

They’ve done it before.

So you walk, wondering if you should put your hands in your pockets or if that makes it look like you are hiding something.

You walk past the man and the cigarette and hope that he does not look up at you.

You wonder if he thinks his face looks like a mask when he looks into a mirror.

Five

When you get into the convenience store, you notice a light is flickering.  It gives the tile floors and spinning slushy machines a dreamlike quality that you appreciate. 

You like it when the world doesn’t feel quite real.

You want to immediately ask for change so that you can go back to the safety of the laundromat but you know that you should buy something.  It’s the polite thing to do.

Six

You debate with yourself weather to buy a bag of barbeque chips or a payday candy bar.  They are the only two things you like at the store.

The potato chips will leave powdered spices on your fingertips but the payday candy bar will leave caramel between your teeth.  You are not sure which of these will be more uncomfortable.

You decide to buy both so that you can get your change and leave.  You can decide which you’ll eat later.

Seven

You bring your items to the front counter and unravel your twenty.  The man behind the counter is friendly and the whites of his eyes are tinged red.

You don’t like the way he looks at you.  You don’t like the way his fingers brush the palm of your hand when he gives you your quarters.

You don’t like the way his mouth is disjointed from his face when he tells you to have a nice night.

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gqrakj/comment/lx514bo/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gqypd0/comment/lx504vi/

By evening’s veil, when dusk descends,

There walks a shadow none calls friend.

A grinning mask, a lurking wraith,

Who trails with steps both soft and chaste.

They name him "Mr. Smiley," though,

His face no warmth, his gaze aglow—

Eyes like embers, hollow, deep,

That watch as Emma stirs from sleep.

The schoolyard’s bell, the dim-lit street,

The haunted echo of her feet—

She feels the weight, the breath, the leer,

Of something vile, of something near.

Oh, Emma, pure, with innocence bright,

Her laughter lost to creeping night.

For in each mirror, pane, or glass,

His grin reflects as shadows pass.

She turns to see, and none are there,

Yet senses whispers haunt the air.

A tale unspoke, a ghostly sound,

Of dark obsessions, tether-bound.

And Mr. Smiley, foul and sly,

Will haunt her steps till day she dies—

A phantom smile, forevermore,

Bound to shadows on her door.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4FVbElRNSz

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ocBdhi2Zis

These pieces
Of my heart and yours
Arranged on the floor
In fours
Scores of our victories and losses
Seven years ago, we started
We faught it long and hard
Should we lay out our cards?
Surrender here while the stars observe us?
They heard us fuss and fight and cuss
Now we discuss our treaties thus,
We have our articles
Describing the particle nature of our union
Old feelings sticking to us like barnicles, u and I
Two different letters.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vMbANU3Fd6

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/jRaqbzyzd1

I don't think I can do it

I can't pull the trigger

to save you

save me

I've tried and failed

I've put myself in many situations

I can't even picture saving us

I've let you down

for this

We will be inconvenienced

Why you should smoke when you write : r/OCPoetry

Void : r/OCPoetry

Void

I’m scared. I used to believe she could fill The emptiness in my chest, Heal my lonely soul If she were here with me.

But now, I’m scared. I’m not sure, if even she Could fill this endless void, Or heal the darkness inside.

Can she lift this emptiness? Can she light the darkness inside? Will these feelings leave, If she’s by my side?

I don’t know anymore.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pz5e7lmhcj https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xXVwkFOGed

Why you shouldn’t smoke when you write

So I have this small plight, you see

That when I put pen to paper and write

Sometimes I’ll blow through a bowl or three

Untill I’m blurring my sight

And starting on a slurring spree

As my amateurish alliteration addiction arrives aright

It does devastating damage to my diction

and seriously sabotages some already sophomoric syntax

My admittedly meager metaphors manage to be messier or merely missing

Like a painter who forgets about perspective or a poet who forgets about… metaphor

Rhythms rather rough already are reduced to reckless irregularities

Rhymes arrive at random times without their schemes in tandem with any themes

(Editors note: how many times can I rhyme rhyme with time?)

But still I’ll smoke ten times a day

Without ever letting editing get in my way

And ya know, people always say that drugs are fuel for art

I’ve never believed it, I say inspiration is from the head and heart

So it might be putting the dead horse before the cart

But I hope y’all will say, “he had to have been high for this part”

1 2

Thoughts of the ideal,
-——White canvas to inspire.
The trudge of dedication,
——Lifetime worth of progress.
Materializing abstractions,
——-Well served purpose.
Blueprints for Success,
——-Guidance for the Unknown.

Link Link

Without sight, I drift inward
from half faces that half-turn,
from voices polite but thin as air,
shallow as the bright masks I’ve only ever known.
They laugh like water sliding past a stone,
and I sit still, a shadow they tolerate,
hovering, but never heard, never held.
Here, in this realm, I am myself,
detached in a connectionless connection,
invisible as the space between my words.

The dark I see is silent music,
no sound, no colour to pull me back.
There exists a beauty here, pure and deep,
like the hum of stars I'll sense but never see,
each one distant, detached, but burning on inside,
scattered pieces in their silent orbit,
probing, indifferent to my distant looking or not.

When reflections on their screens mean more
than the reflections within, in my flaming eyes,
it becomes my duty to become
a shell of who ‘me’ is,
for the sake of inhumane reason.
If I stayed here, lost in this divine black,
would they even strive to rekindle my fire?
Or would I pass, unnoticed as ever,
a turn of luck in a story unknown to everyone else?

I wonder if the sky knows its stars,
or if they blaze alone, nameless, for some reason,
their light bright on who might see it but I will not sense.
I could ask, but it feels sacred not to know,
just illogically, but yet beautifully fighting on in here,
in a night that holds all thought
against a sky that holds no truth

On a star that might be too dim to see from afar,
but yet never fails not to know
that the story waiting to be told
holds too little light for them
and so logic determines that I

will leave no trace.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gr53ey/comment/lx3gx0w/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gqte37/comment/lx3fce3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

When I was 14

I cut into my skin

Trying to break my heart

Using shards of broken tin

.

Two years later

I wonder if I should try again

Nothing has changed
Everyday

Everything the same

.

Only distractions

Trying to keep me happy

To stop me from taking the same directions

To get to the same destination

.

Now I think it was only a roundabout way

To the same location

Overcast skies

Make me think

I’m not anywhere at all

.

And I think in 20 years it’ll be just the same

And my whole life was just a journey to the same destination

That I was at so many years before

I think I’ll take the shortcut

I think I’ll just go.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gq98gv/comment/lx3bl4t/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gr3j8o/comment/lx38pcb/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

1. Stabbing The Queen

Near the candle's fluttering light, 

Stood a sombre Prince now grieved

Standing near a grave with his might

Bearing the gloom he had conceived.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The stars look down with scorn

as omens imbue in that sombre place

reflecting dreams that war had torn

of glories that once had their grace. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

With the touch of the passing breeze,

His mother's memory softly whispers

Melting the mountains of guilt with ease

With tears to soothe those bygone years.

----------------------------------------------------------------

How once she ruled over as the Head

with grace and fairness beyond compare

blessing her subjects where honour led

and blessed their lives with special care. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

When their lives were cloaked with gloom

She'd glisten like the Sun, pure and bright.

Her intellect would keep away the doom

Assisted by her vision of a noble light

----------------------------------------------------------------

Neither fame nor power'd mar her grace

For under her, Paradise found its peace

And besides the respect that held its place.

All the wrong ambitions did decrease. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

But her fate decreed a dreaded way

As jealousy stirred the coven's unrest,

Despite the grace that bade loyalty to stay,

The Queen was unkindly stabbed in her chest…

----------------------------------------------------------------

1. The Turmoil Within

The news pierced like a dagger's blow

leaving the Price gasping with a stare.

With a face pale as white as the snow

as grief shattered him beyond compare

----------------------------------------------------------------

This corpulent betrayal destroyed his frame

as he came to terms with his woe.

In him, vengeance burnt like an eternal flame

seeking justice in the world now at a low. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

So, from the trenches of gloom's weight

He rose, fledgling, yet with sturdy eyes

To spread the fire fuelled by his fate, 

Seeking justice beneath the hostile skies. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

To honour the Coven with public disgrace,

He decreed the people to gather near

To reveal the truth for rumours to erase

And seek revenge with no room to fear.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“O friends of Paradise! Lend me your ear

I'm here not to mourn but to endear

The Queen who ruled with grace and might

Whose steps once filled us with delight. 

The coven, to satiate their jealous pride,

assassinated her, turning against our side

When did she fail to fulfil your needs?

When was her advice, not a wisdom's seed?

Neither power nor wealth she sought

Every single act of hers was a noble thought. 

A figure as bright as the Sun for every eye

Did she deserve in the Coven's hands to die?

Those hands that reek of her blood, 

took her away in this muddled flood.

And yet for her worth, her grace and heart-

Would you not tear the Coven apart?

Look at the throne! Cloaked in despair

Crying helplessly for justice, free and fair

With silence speaking volumes, she cannot;

Her crown shows what the coven forgot!

Oh, you stars! You witnessed her reign

Still, why don't you bleed in pain? 

For she was more than you could behold-

Her value is more than the tales told. 

And the coven's hands are still red,

Smeared in blood, yet they're unafraid.

Shall we, her people, bow our heads low

Whilst the Coven walks with no fear to show? 

For she ruled with pride on her face, 

Still, the Coven killed her in disgrace.

O Citizens! I stand here as her lone heir-

Shall we let the Coven breathe our air? 

Look at her wounds, crying at her deed

How they glisten in the shades of greed.

The hands that took her away, 

I will steal your peace every passing day.

The Coven fell for their intentions true

and let their envy tear all we knew.

Her crown's blooded, and we, her kin, 

you'd kowtow them and let them win.

So has come the hour to rise

And let her blood stain the skies!

Let not her soul in injustice lie

Seeking answers from the fiends sly.

Hold your torches! Take your cries

As justice calls where the moral dies.

We will fight to meet their shame

And burn the altar of righteous flame.

If we love her, we must now act

We can't rest as they're yet to retract

Let vengeance sing our song and creed

To restore peace, our hearts must bleed! ”

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I hate my body I won’t apologise for that This masculinity has been forced upon me from birth And I’m expected to be grateful? I feel guilt for wishing to reject my privilege But what I would give to not despise what stares back

Everything

Take it all

Strip back my shape and flesh Rip and tear through gut and bone until all that’s left is my core of being

Yearning

Grasp with aching hands Squeeze and mutilate Reform and reshape I’ll come out better or I won’t come out at all

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/U54CD8gdyo

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/znJd7qeeKh

He looked at his beautiful bride
His lyre tucked in hand
Her face a work better than Venus
Her eyes like some sapphires
He took her on a midday walk
Into the tall grass yonder
Little did he know of the perils that
Would make him walk on fire

Orpheus led Eurydice
To the cypress grove
She fell into the grass like a doll
Before reaching the slope
Her face as blue as cornflowers
A bleeding gash on her thigh
An adder winding back into it's hole
And thus Eurydice died

Orpheus bellowed in grief and sorrow
A sound louder than Pan's pipes
And wrought himself an iron will
To see his wife alive
He trudged up steep Etna with
Nothing but his lyre

He sought out the river Styx and
Met the daemon Charon within
He strummed his lyre and he had passed
For his music had
Nothing but goodwill

Oh, how the sound destroyed his heart
Showing his feeling from within!
Charon fell to no weapon
But a man with prodigious skill
The moment he crossed the river Styx
His eyes deep in a trance
A snarl came from the shadows like
A monster that wants to kill

Cerebrus rose out of the gloom 
His three heads with mouths bared 
Teeth dripping with venom 
A scorpion's tail on his back 
He shook his mane and 
Reared his head 
For no mortal had passed him yet!

But Cerebrus fell with a thud
And cried in a voice so shrill!
Orpheus strolled casually by
As though nothing had happened

He passed the the Fields of Asphodel
And made the spirits weep
Even the Isle of Blest was affected
Suffocated by his grief
He passed through the halls of
Hades's palace
Made of jewel and bone
And knelt below the dark lords throne
And strummed his lyre like before

Even mighty Apollo wept
At the heart wrenching notes
Orpheus's voice was better than the Muses
Who would praise him galore
He laid his wish bare and broken
And asked for his request to be fulfilled

The Dark lord wept with melancholy
While Persephone praised his hymns
Hades granted Orpheus's wish
But not without a little strife

He couldn't look at the love of his life
Not till he reached the surface
And if he did, she would fall
Along with the lord's goodwill

He trudged up through Sisyphus's hill
His eyes fixed on the Zenith
And Eurydice walked behind him
No sound came from her lips

And Orpheus began to worry
His ears were begging for sound
His lyre was lost a few feet back
He couldn't hear Eurydice as well

Slowly he gave into temptation
His mind in swirling fragments
He turned to look at his now-doomed bride
Who screamed against he will

Slowly, she began to fall
Her wedding dress billowing
The mountain crumbled under his feet
As Orpheus realized his folly

He fell into the great depths below
His face in shock and fear
And here ends the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice
A tale of sorrow and goodwill

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gpcmri/hey_i_wrote_this_poem_as_a_young_teenager/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1gqte37/alone/