I Hate Poetry, But Here Are My Poems

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I Hate Poetry, But Here Are My Poems

Postby ↫mars↬ » Mon Nov 20, 2017 2:37 pm

This is where I house some poetry that I have written.

I hate poetry, yet it is something that I still find myself writing.

This will be pretty informal, so feel free to post. I will link to any of my poems on this page. Please let me know if you follow this forum, even if you don't post! PM me if you'd like

I have never claimed nor will I ever claim to be good at poetry or writing poetry. If you don't like what I write, its okay. I don't like it either.
A lot of these will be sad, as poems usually are, but this is just a forewarning.

Feel free to use any of them if you'd like. I'd love a PM or a comment telling me what you're using them for.

↫↭↬


Last edited by ↫mars↬ on Sun Jun 05, 2022 3:39 pm, edited 27 times in total.
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I Hate Love

Postby ↫mars↬ » Mon Nov 20, 2017 2:44 pm

    Love is painful.
    An ache in your chest and a
    Fire in your lungs.
    Your hands always seem to shake and they don't
    Stop
    Your heart always seems to beat faster and faster until-
    Your mind cannot stop thinking. Thoughts dripping
    Out of your ears and crying through your eyes

    Love is a parasite.
    It feeds off your pain and
    Desires
    It grows and grows and grows and grows and gr-
    Until it becomes you.
    You don't exist anymore without
    Love
    You have become
    Love
    Without
    Love
    You are nothing

    This is what
    Love
    Is.
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Why?

Postby ↫mars↬ » Mon Nov 20, 2017 2:52 pm

    Why
    Is a question often asked by people who do not understand
    Why
    Is not only a question but it can be an emotion
    Why
    Can de defined by what it is attempting to ask which is
    Why
    I don't understand
    Why
    I don't know what you're saying
    Why
    I can not comprehend what it is
    Why
    I have to answer a question with a question
    Why
    Am I like this
    Why
    Can I not change
    Why
    Why
    Why
    Why

    Why.
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An Open Letter To .

Postby ↫mars↬ » Mon Nov 20, 2017 3:01 pm

    Dear-----,
    I cannot say I've missed you,-----.
    You've done nothing but caused me pain.
    But, I still find myself thinking of you,-----.
    -----.
    You're nothing but a coward.
    A cheater.
    Someone who plays me like a fiddle.
    -----.
    This is a letter for-----.
    Make sure they get it.
    Tell them its from-------------.
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I Am A Terrible Salesmen

Postby ↫mars↬ » Tue Dec 12, 2017 6:28 pm

    I am a terrible Salesmen.
    I give my only product out for free.
    It is by no means a unique product, there are many others like it on the market
    But I feel that I have put my own unique twist on it, so that it is
    Special.
    At least, special to me.

    I had out free samples to everyone that passes by
    In hopes that they return for more, which they often do.
    But.
    This means I have been taken advantage of before.
    People have taken so much that I have run out of my product
    It takes me a long time to restock causing me to lose my
    Customers.
    They move on to more efficient sellers, paying high prices for a similar product. One that I give for
    Free.
    A free sample.

    I am a terrible Salesmen.
    I give out sample after sample hoping that one person will ask my price.
    I would reply,
    "It is a bargain price! One that you will not find anywhere else!"
    "The only thing I ask of you is merely your
    Time
    and
    Affection."
    Other salesmen demand much higher prices.
    Money.
    Satus.
    Drugs.
    Connections.
    I only ask two simple things.
    Time.
    Affection.

    Yet no one seems to want to pay such a fee.

    I am a terrible Salesmen.
    I will not waver my prices, yet I still hand out my samples.
    I'm running out again, but luckily my customers are few.
    I only have so many samples to give for free.
    When will someone come and pay?
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My eyes, My heart, My life

Postby ↫mars↬ » Thu Dec 14, 2017 3:59 pm

    The tears are few and far between.
    But I always want to shed my sorrows.
    Release them from my mind, hoping that I will be let free.

    I feel my heart, weighing in my chest.
    It is a burden.
    I don't feel it beat.
    It doesn't serve its intended function.
    It merely is.

    I merely am.
    I put no stamps on the world.
    I drift from place to place seeing but never memorizing.
    Being alive but never living.
    Seeing love but never being in love.

    I wish I could cry.
    I wish I could have a working heart.
    I wish I could live.

    But with my dry eyes and heavy heart
    I exist and nothing more.
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89 Cents

Postby ↫mars↬ » Sun Mar 11, 2018 3:48 pm

    She sold her heart at a garage sale
    For 89 cents
    To a man with a charming smile
    And a very sharp wit

    I stood across the way
    My heart priced much less
    Costing only pure love, with some interest.

    I could see the man's back and I could see that he already held a heart
    Priced much more than 89 cents
    But she sold her heart anyway to him
    Chasing after him.

    I wanted to warn her
    Tell her of the pain she may face
    But instead I returned home
    Putting my heart back in its place.

    I often saw her racing after him
    89 cents in hand
    But as time passed she lagged farther and farther behind
    His charming smile and sharp wit.

    Soon she lost him
    Her heart too
    She counts her 89 cents and wonders
    What was the charm and wit worth?

    I ask her how it feels to lose your heart
    She cannot reply
    Or maybe she chooses not to, but still I see a tear in her eye.

    My heart is in a shoe box
    In a closet back home
    Collecting dust
    For the low, low price of
    Love with some interest.
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It is I who sold my heart for 89 cents

Postby ↫mars↬ » Mon Apr 23, 2018 3:25 pm

    I thought that she had sold her heart.
    I thought I was protecting her from her heartbreak.
    But no
    It was I who had sold my heart to her
    The Whole Time
    I was short 89 cents.
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15.

Postby ↫mars↬ » Tue Jun 12, 2018 3:28 pm

    15. I hate seeing notifications on my phone
    They make me anxious. I want to ignore them. I want to run away and never talk to anyone ever again. I want to start over in the mountains in a house made of mudbrick. I want to make friends with the trees and then cut them down. I want to listen to the river as my music and keep the river behind a dam. I want to watch the animals through a scope. I want to smell the fire as it burns my hand, because sometimes I get a little bit too close. It’s a dumb dream. A stupid reality inside my head.
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Re: I Hate Poetry, But Here Are My Poems

Postby Ranger of the North » Sun Jun 24, 2018 7:59 pm

Love these <3
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