There are no adult geniuses by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
There are no adult geniuses
When I was 5 they called me
Prodigy
Genius
Brilliant
When I was 10 they called me
Gifted
Talented
‘Full of potential’
When I was 13 they called me
Nerd
Over-achiever
Freak
When I was 17 they called me
Average
Lazy
‘You can do better than this’
Now?
Now they call me
Nothing.
A number
A statistic
A nobody
Merry Christmas, From A Misanthrope by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
Merry Christmas, From A Misanthrope
I don't like people
and I don't particularly like anything
but I like you
I like your human-ness
your broken-ness
and the way I've loved you
even after nearly 2 years
alone
I like how I still write you poems
when I have a boyfriend
and a life
and synthetic serotonin
see you took away my need for serotonin
you were my serotonin, my oxytocin
my dopamine
and so 2 weeks before Christmas
I'm writing you another poem
not a Christmas list
because all I want
is you. Not more serotonin
I live in a world of constant headaches, fears and lies
A world of one good day followed by so many bad days
That the good day was a dream
A world that recognises getting out of bed
Is a bigger achievement than winning gold
I live in a world where you see colour only when
It’s your own blood
In my world we all wear long sleeves and keep our eyes downcast
So no one questions our future
I live in a world where tomorrow is inevitable, but regrettable
Where no one wants to see the dawn.
Where all of us know, it’s your world, or death
But no one returns to your world
Nostalgia of happiness by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
Nostalgia of happiness
If I was sixty years older
They’d call what I have
Alzheimer’s.
Not nostalgia.
If I wore black
Didn’t get out of bed
Cut myself
They’d call what I have
Clinical depression.
But I have nostalgia.
If it hurt me physically
If other people saw the pain
They’d find the problem.
But its only nostalgia
The price of freedom by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
The price of freedom
When I was eighteen
I left the love of my life
Standing at a bus stop squinting into the sun
Because for some reason; at 18
Freedom is more important
Than happiness
At 27 I had freedom
Though faux freedom was still somehow more important
Than happiness
So I left you at the gate
Because for some reason you can’t have both
Happiness and freedom
Now at 36: I’ve realised
That the price of freedom is
Happiness and one broken heart.
That love and happiness do not mean
The absence of freedom.
That freedom is all about perspective.
So I pour a new drink
Light a new cigarette
Stare at the dying sun
It has been a wonderful fight
For fre
my boyfriend tells me that sleeping with my head
under the blankets is weird
but everybody know that blankets hide you from the monsters
and the monsters are inside my head
There were no roses by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
There were no roses
On page 47 of the newspaper is the obituary
There were no roses
One day you’ll show up on my door and say I can’t even be dead without you
And I’ll come with you
Because you smell like nostalgia and roses
They’ve been telling you since you were 2 foot high
That boys will be boys
So don’t you cry
And when he tears your heart into little shreds
Steps on the remains
And walks away
Boys will be boys
So that’s okay
There’s times when you want to cry so hard
The stars will die
But darling, boys are boys
And girls will cry
Long live all the mountains that we moved
All the dragons that we killed
And the lives that were never ours
To spend
I gave you all my bullets
And you only gave me words
But still we somehow managed
To believe that we were God
So long live all the children
The reckless and the brave
Our art was only murder
The finale; suicide
There are no adult geniuses by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
There are no adult geniuses
When I was 5 they called me
Prodigy
Genius
Brilliant
When I was 10 they called me
Gifted
Talented
‘Full of potential’
When I was 13 they called me
Nerd
Over-achiever
Freak
When I was 17 they called me
Average
Lazy
‘You can do better than this’
Now?
Now they call me
Nothing.
A number
A statistic
A nobody
Merry Christmas, From A Misanthrope by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
Merry Christmas, From A Misanthrope
I don't like people
and I don't particularly like anything
but I like you
I like your human-ness
your broken-ness
and the way I've loved you
even after nearly 2 years
alone
I like how I still write you poems
when I have a boyfriend
and a life
and synthetic serotonin
see you took away my need for serotonin
you were my serotonin, my oxytocin
my dopamine
and so 2 weeks before Christmas
I'm writing you another poem
not a Christmas list
because all I want
is you. Not more serotonin
I live in a world of constant headaches, fears and lies
A world of one good day followed by so many bad days
That the good day was a dream
A world that recognises getting out of bed
Is a bigger achievement than winning gold
I live in a world where you see colour only when
It’s your own blood
In my world we all wear long sleeves and keep our eyes downcast
So no one questions our future
I live in a world where tomorrow is inevitable, but regrettable
Where no one wants to see the dawn.
Where all of us know, it’s your world, or death
But no one returns to your world
Nostalgia of happiness by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
Nostalgia of happiness
If I was sixty years older
They’d call what I have
Alzheimer’s.
Not nostalgia.
If I wore black
Didn’t get out of bed
Cut myself
They’d call what I have
Clinical depression.
But I have nostalgia.
If it hurt me physically
If other people saw the pain
They’d find the problem.
But its only nostalgia
The price of freedom by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
The price of freedom
When I was eighteen
I left the love of my life
Standing at a bus stop squinting into the sun
Because for some reason; at 18
Freedom is more important
Than happiness
At 27 I had freedom
Though faux freedom was still somehow more important
Than happiness
So I left you at the gate
Because for some reason you can’t have both
Happiness and freedom
Now at 36: I’ve realised
That the price of freedom is
Happiness and one broken heart.
That love and happiness do not mean
The absence of freedom.
That freedom is all about perspective.
So I pour a new drink
Light a new cigarette
Stare at the dying sun
It has been a wonderful fight
For fre
my boyfriend tells me that sleeping with my head
under the blankets is weird
but everybody know that blankets hide you from the monsters
and the monsters are inside my head
There were no roses by OnceUponAWinter, literature
Literature
There were no roses
On page 47 of the newspaper is the obituary
There were no roses
One day you’ll show up on my door and say I can’t even be dead without you
And I’ll come with you
Because you smell like nostalgia and roses
They’ve been telling you since you were 2 foot high
That boys will be boys
So don’t you cry
And when he tears your heart into little shreds
Steps on the remains
And walks away
Boys will be boys
So that’s okay
There’s times when you want to cry so hard
The stars will die
But darling, boys are boys
And girls will cry
Long live all the mountains that we moved
All the dragons that we killed
And the lives that were never ours
To spend
I gave you all my bullets
And you only gave me words
But still we somehow managed
To believe that we were God
So long live all the children
The reckless and the brave
Our art was only murder
The finale; suicide
For those whose salve is lonely pain by edgarwhitmanwilde, literature
Literature
For those whose salve is lonely pain
Thou hast bequeathed me
Difficult circumstance
A Monster of iniquity
Where comedy and tragedy
Form themselves upon
The rhythms of my life
One that is not
Impoverished of ridicule
A letter in a cemetery by edgarwhitmanwilde, literature
Literature
A letter in a cemetery
Vandalized ink stains
Where my feelings
Were washed away
if I cry it is for help
If I'm sick it is a love song
Written on the soul
Where help is wanted
For emaciated corpses
You know, yes you know
Where the dead eyes are
Down among the leaves
Watching, watching, watching
"I bet you cut yourself," he says and it takes
All of me and more, and there is nothing to take. I laugh
and cry a little inside. Die a little more and smile
"Of course not."
He stares at me and it's like one of those dreams where you're
Naked and I want to shove my guts in my mouth and burn in Heaven,
rip my scalpel through my thigh, throw my skull at a window and let the
Pain in my body overwhelm the pain in my heart.
"I'm joking," he says and I think I should feel bad for him, instead I
Hate him a little. He's grinning and I think about how I'd love to
Carve his face into the Joker.
"I know," I say and I hate myself a little, t
A writer is made of layers,
You can never tell who we are,
A writer is a player,
We play with all your hearts,
A writer is a speak,
We say all the things that you will not,
A writer is a singer,
Each day we sing a different song,
A writer is a dancer,
Our words are graceful steps,
A writer is a leader,
We lead you by ourselves,
A writer is a time keeper,
With us you travel through the time,
A writer is a dreamer,
No star gets left behind,
A writer is an artist,
Ink and graphite flow from our fingertips,
A writer is a lover,
Gentle with our readers,
A writer is a hater,
Only when you are,
A writer is made of layers,
You
10 Reasons To Buy Toilet Paper by realARTIZT, literature
Literature
10 Reasons To Buy Toilet Paper
1) To stuff my bra in hopes that you'll see me tonight
2) To dry the tears from my eyes when you don't
3) To blow my nose and try again tomorrow
4) To keep in my pocket just in case
5) To dab my lipstick before our date
6) To fix my mascara after you say you love me
7) To clean my glasses and see the truth on your collar
8) To wipe the crap off of your lips when you swear I'm the only one
9) To use every roll to cover your house in blankets of white
10) To replace the toilet paper I wasted on you
autumn days with winter nights,
when the sky blended into its own horizon; its shadow,
waltzing shamelessly upon the depths of the diamonds
and whispering those lullabies, so soft and secure
to the melting sea, my dear.
white skirts and white clouds and white icecream on our chins
we'd watch as the pearls of the ocean
all collided, effortless disintergration
and the misty spray all through our short hair,
all through our brown eyes as they laced the shoreline we kissed.
with salt so delicate it reflected off your lips
that smelt just like strawberry, just as sweet
as the lyrics that the tangling waves lightly fringed along,
light
It's alright, you say. Nothing will hurt you, I've got you. Don't be sad. I love you.
Well I'm sorry Mister, my depression isn't going to pack it's bags and leave just because you love me.
To create art requires emotion. Always we're told this, shown this.
I think that's why I make the best poems, paint/draw the best pictures and play the best music when I'm sad or lonely. I'm not 100% sure about this though, I don't know the inside of my head well enough to be sure. And I'm not sure I want to.
I guess I'm trying to make something beautiful out of something heartbreaking. Something positive (normally) out of something negative. It could be why there's so many sad love/break up songs, I don't know, I've never written a song. I don't think I could. Maybe that's why artists are always portrayed as troubled and mentally ill, mayb