I wrote a poem



  • No, it’s not a suicide note, sorry.

    O, Woe is me!
    Born in this prison, longing to be free.
    My soul, trapped in this prison, watching through glassy eyes.
    As the world passes by, eager to bypass me, looking for the next interesting thing.
    Raven’s come and go, coming in my bad times, shining their eyes, clicking the beaks
    Telling the rest of the world about my shortcomings, turning their heads when I prosper.
    The songbird sits with me in my cage, noting my every move, eager to sing to the Raven, for his attentions.
    The Robin’s sit and watch, from a distance. Pecking at my character
    Like an Obsessive Compulsive, separating into little piles traits they deem good,
    And traits they deem unworthy.
    The rats follow me everywhere I go, pretending to be my friend, quick to compliment me, eager for me to drop crumbs and scraps of food.
    The world, hell-bent on annihilating itself quickly passing me by.
    Regret is my prison guard, my flesh is the lock, my gun is the savior, and the bullet is the key.
    O, Woe is me!



  • No, it’s not a suicide note, sorry.

    O, Woe is me!
    Born in this prison, longing to be free.
    My soul, trapped in this prison, watching through glassy eyes.
    As the world passes by, eager to bypass me, looking for the next interesting thing.
    Raven’s come and go, coming in my bad times, shining their eyes, clicking the beaks
    Telling the rest of the world about my shortcomings, turning their heads when I prosper.
    The songbird sits with me in my cage, noting my every move, eager to sing to the Raven, for his attentions.
    The Robin’s sit and watch, from a distance. Pecking at my character
    Like an Obsessive Compulsive, separating into little piles traits they deem good,
    And traits they deem unworthy.
    The rats follow me everywhere I go, pretending to be my friend, quick to compliment me, eager for me to drop crumbs and scraps of food.
    The world, hell-bent on annihilating itself quickly passing me by.
    Regret is my prison guard, my flesh is the lock, my gun is the savior, and the bullet is the key.
    O, Woe is me!



  • Nice poem, hope you dont mind i add one. anyone thinking of qouting a grammer/spelling mistake dont do it.

    Tears going down my face
    washing away the remaining glace
    the time which i am not writing about
    screams inside my head “remember me” aloud

    sorrow building up
    always stopping at a half empty cup
    i dont know what is happening
    how am i supposed to decent from heaven which is hell for me, with only a single wing?

    what am i supposed to claim
    who am i allowed to blame
    i dont know what im allowed
    i dont know if i of any action can be proud

    i am forever falling
    forever salvation calling
    but i cannot hear
    its being overheard, by the ekko of every tear

    when will i stop despiting the future
    when will i in present become mature
    when will i stop hungering for the past
    how long will my life in sanety last



  • I’m a ghost
    With a tan
    Coasting down snowy hillsides
    ’Till the lights in the town

    Stayed out in the moonlight
    Too long
    Now everyone can see my face

    Try to make the blue sidewalk
    Crack up at every joke I tell
    Streetlight, don’t look so down
    Streetlight, don’t look so down





  • I wanna slit your throat and fuck the wound
    I wanna push my face in and feel the swoon
    I wanna dig inside, find a little bit of me
    Cuz the line gets crossed when you don’t come clean

    My wormwood meets your pesticide
    You’ll never get out, cuz you were never alive
    I am infinite, I am the infant finite
    Come a little closer and I’ll show you why



  • I have no life.
    I spend to much time on Zs.
    Time that should be spent socializing.
    I need someone to end this.
    Ban Ban Ban went the hammer
    I love pigs.

    Ink ink…



  • I’mmmmm a fuckingggg weabooooo

    I finished my beautiful poem that describes me



  • @Deer:

    Pretty gay.



  • A lot of these are pretty depressing. Is no one happy in here?



  • Happy? Emotions are pathetic, its not like anyone on Noxious net is human. :mellow:



  • The first two poems, which are serious by what I can tell, are completely fucking terrible.
    Also they are written by huge faggots.

    Edit for those who don’t feel like reading or analyzing them here’s the gist:
    Poem #1: Wah, I have no friends, why is everyone such a dick.
    Poem #2: Boohoo, why am I sad all the time, I don’t like being sad.



  • The undergrowth in spring
    Have a canopy
    Studded emeralds.
    Tree leaves are dancing
    With the light breeze
    And the sun
    For its light
    Turns them into jewels.

    also



  • Moving.



  • @PowerPinch:

    The first two poems, which are serious by what I can tell, are completely fucking terrible.
    Also they are written by huge faggots.

    Edit for those who don’t feel like reading or analyzing them here’s the gist:
    Poem #1: Wah, I have no friends, why is everyone such a dick.
    Poem #2: Boohoo, why am I sad all the time, I don’t like being sad.

    You mad?



  • Powerpinch is srs.



  • The apparition of these faces in the crowd ;
    Petals on a wet, black bough.

    Also, nice edit there, Deer God.



  • for those who like poems, you may also enjoy…



  • you fool  :cry:



  • @midboe:

    Nice poem, hope you don**‘t mind I add one. anyone thinking of quoting a grammer/spelling mistake don’**t do it.

    Tears flow down my face
    washing away the remaining glace (what the fuck is glace?)
    the time which I am not writing about
    screams inside my head “remember me” aloud

    sorrow begins building up
    always stopping at a half empty cup
    I cannot comprehend that which is continually on going
    how am I (removed) to descend from heaven**,** which is my hell, with one wing? (Bad rhyme scheme fixed, most likely changed meaning)

    what am I supposed to claim
    who am I allowed to blame
    I don**‘t know what im allowed
    I don
    ’**t know any action of which I am to be proud

    I am forever falling
    forever salvation calling
    but this tone is one I cannot hear
    over the echo of every tear (Bad rhyme scheme fixed)

    when will I stop despising (note:technically correct but nobody says that) the future
    when will I in present become mature
    when will I stop hungering for the past
    how long will my fleeting sanity last

    There, Fixed every grammar/spelling mistake I could find and made a couple sentences less shitty, while trying to keep original meaning.

    Technically you are allowed to break grammar rules in poems, but only terrible writers need to do that to squeeze in shitty sentences.

    Spoiler: It still sucks.

    Also, I’m not mad, just bored.


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