Just Pretend
- Image by Sabino . via Flickr
It feels like playing dress-up
Like this role doesn’t quite fit
I’m not ready to be a grown-up
Even as I do exactly that
Bills, marriage, kids
home, cars, jobs…
It still feels like
just pretend
My bleeding heart
- Image by dutts303 via Flickr
Brave, they call me
As I stand here
Trying not to
Cry.
Strong, they whisper
As I walk past
with my head held
high.
But I know
And you know
I’m anything but.
Outside I’m fine
Inside I’m dying
From this bleeding heart.
Spring
- Image by mariobraune via Flickr
Falling through the time tunnel
Transported back to child hood
Smells of fresh cut grass
of flowers
of rain
A renewed feeling- hopeful, energetic…
a playfulness that isn’t usually there
Spring, my very own transportation
through time.
I’m Screwed
- Image by kevindooley via Flickr
The pressure is mounting
The screws are turning
The weight is heavy and
it’s bearing down
on
me
Push back or be crushed
My current situation
Is deteriorating fast
Plow through or be
swallowed
whole
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://i0.wp.com/img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png)
SunShine
The distance to the sun is 
measurable
Though maybe not fathomable
Beyond our understanding,
yet still we seek to quantify it
We liken it to circling the world
A set number of times.
When was the last time you circled the world?
Trapped
- Image by iAreef via Flickr
Trapped
not by bars or bricks.
But by responsibilities
chores, needs, duties.
Everyone wants something
everyone has a demand
And their every wish somehow
becomes my command
martyr-hood in lieu of motherhood
Illusions
- Image by alles-schlumpf via Flickr
It’s all just an illusion
Happiness, that is
It’s never achieved
but for a fleeting moment.
Always out of reach
We go through life
grasping for it
straining to find it
and constantly disappointed.
Alone and Lonely
- Image by Exothermic via Flickr
Alone and lonely
in this prison
when is my turn for release?
You’ve grabbed your freedom
And left me behind
To rot
here
lonely
and alone
Introductions
- Image by niznoz via Flickr
Angsty teen poetry.
I dreamt of fame,
though posthumous,
as befits angsty teen poetry.
But life went on, mine specifically
Posthumous publication being
impossible
whilst still living,
I opted to put the pen down.
Yet still my inner goth writes ballads
of tainted love, bitter tears and cutting words.
So publish I shall, though not yet dead,
via the interweb, boon to angsty teen poets everywhere.
Related articles by Zemanta
- National Poetry Month Begins (seattlest.com)
Pslightly Psycho Poems 