lonely
Just another writer with a broken heart, trying to fill a vacant void inside my heart that can never be replenished.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Anxiety

I grew up with random voices

In my head. I tried to ignore them,

Thinking they would simply vanish,

But I was wrong. I always wished

For them to disappear, but with each

Passing day, they built their home in my

Mind, in the lonely holes where memories

Fade and wither like leaves in the fall.

I had no one to turn to. I slowly was

Losing my mind, not knowing what they

Wanted from me. It has been 17 years,

And still the voices remain, a friend

To my fears and doubts. I realize I

Cannot let them go. I wish to, but how

Can I let the only voices which cared

For me, walk away? They have trapped

Me, a prisoner in my own mind, but

Still I cannot desert them. I wish to

Pretend I cannot feel the weight

Of their words, smashing my head,

But the pain consumes my thoughts.

Living with a mental disorder is

Like lying in bed each night, with the

Ghost of remembering. We can feel them

Pushing against our minds, but we cannot

Make others understand, the voices in

Our heads, which have no face, but

Ruin our lives. I cannot remember when

These voices first came; I think they were

Always lodged in my mind, but they

Only made their presence known when

I felt lonely and worthless. They made me

Feel like no one cared, but them.

I have befriended my demons and refuse

To take pills because the pain will always

Remain. My mother does not know of

The pounding in my head. She thinks I'm

Stupid and shy, always reminding me that

People won't bite, but she will never

Understand the voices that scream and sing

In my mind. No one will ever understand,

Unless they too, can hear the voices.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Anxiety
I grew up with random voices
In my head. I tried to ignore them,
Thinking they would simply vanish,
But I was wrong. I always wished
For them to disappear, but with each
Passing day, they built their home in my
Mind, in the lonely holes where memories
Fade and wither like leaves in the fall.
I had no one to turn to. I slowly was
Losing my mind, not knowing what they
Wanted from me. It has been 17 years,
And still the voices remain, a friend
To my fears and doubts. I realize I
Cannot let them go. I wish to, but how
Can I let the only voices which cared
For me, walk away? They have trapped
Me, a prisoner in my own mind, but
Still I cannot desert them. I wish to
Pretend I cannot feel the weight
Of their words, smashing my head,
But the pain consumes my thoughts.
Living with a mental disorder is
Like lying in bed each night, with the
Ghost of remembering. We can feel them
Pushing against our minds, but we cannot
Make others understand, the voices in
Our heads, which have no face, but
Ruin our lives. I cannot remember when
These voices first came; I think they were
Always lodged in my mind, but they
Only made their presence known when
I felt lonely and worthless. They made me
Feel like no one cared, but them.
I have befriended my demons and refuse
To take pills because the pain will always
Remain. My mother does not know of
The pounding in my head. She thinks I'm
Stupid and shy, always reminding me that
People won't bite, but she will never
Understand the voices that scream and sing
In my mind. No one will ever understand,
Unless they too, can hear the voices.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Suicide

The final push for our own deaths

Is not the lack of words

Or communication,

From certain people

Who we wish to see

Right through our pain.

We all have mouths

That utter syllables.

They say the tongue

Is the most dangerous

Weapon and it is true.

We have the power to

Kill and save people

With the words that flow

And escape our lips.

The problem with the world

Is not the lack of listening,

But understanding.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Suicide
The final push for our own deaths
Is not the lack of words
Or communication,
From certain people
Who we wish to see
Right through our pain.
We all have mouths
That utter syllables.
They say the tongue
Is the most dangerous
Weapon and it is true.
We have the power to
Kill and save people
With the words that flow
And escape our lips.
The problem with the world
Is not the lack of listening,
But understanding.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Anxiety

I hear the voices in my mind,

dictating and controlling my thoughts.

I have become a prisoner,

Enslaved to the fears that have not occurred.

I may look fine outside as I try to

Stop my trembling hands

And racing heart,

But I am not.

My anxiety ruins my life,

Keeping me locked

In my own bedroom.

I have become a monster

No one understands,

Not even me.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Anxiety
I hear the voices in my mind,
dictating and controlling my thoughts.
I have become a prisoner,
Enslaved to the fears that have not occurred.
I may look fine outside as I try to
Stop my trembling hands
And racing heart,
But I am not.
My anxiety ruins my life,
Keeping me locked
In my own bedroom.
I have become a monster
No one understands,
Not even me.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Dear Boys,

I know in the midst

of girls and our problems,

we push you away into the corner,

sweeping you under the mat.

I am here to tell you:

you are worth it.

I know society thinks it is wrong

of you to cry, but it is okay.

Crying is a natural human emotion.

I know society thinks you 

should have broad shoulders

to carry your family, but it is

okay to let your spouse take the reins.

It is okay to admit defeat and treat yourself.

I know society has made you into 

a lustful monster who craves power

and the innocence of women.

I know you boys get abused, beaten, and raped.

I know you boys hate your body

and question if your life is worth living for.

I am here to tell you that you can do it.

This is for the boys who suffer mental illnesses,

health disorders, and traumatic pasts.

You don't have to have it together all the time.

There are going to be days, when you feel 

like you can't get up, and that is fine.

This poem is for the boys who held

their tears in for so long

until the bullet erased

their emotions and cries for help.

This is for the boys who stare

at the reflection in the mirror,

and wish to be someone else.

I hope one day, you will realize

you are a prince, and you can 

write beautifully and legibly.

You are worth every tear society

makes you hold in.

You are beautiful, handsome,

fabulous, and intelligent. 

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Dear Boys,
I know in the midst
of girls and our problems,
we push you away into the corner,
sweeping you under the mat.
I am here to tell you:
you are worth it.
I know society thinks it is wrong
of you to cry, but it is okay.
Crying is a natural human emotion.
I know society thinks you 
should have broad shoulders
to carry your family, but it is
okay to let your spouse take the reins.
It is okay to admit defeat and treat yourself.
I know society has made you into 
a lustful monster who craves power
and the innocence of women.
I know you boys get abused, beaten, and raped.
I know you boys hate your body
and question if your life is worth living for.
I am here to tell you that you can do it.
This is for the boys who suffer mental illnesses,
health disorders, and traumatic pasts.
You don't have to have it together all the time.
There are going to be days, when you feel 
like you can't get up, and that is fine.
This poem is for the boys who held
their tears in for so long
until the bullet erased
their emotions and cries for help.
This is for the boys who stare
at the reflection in the mirror,
and wish to be someone else.
I hope one day, you will realize
you are a prince, and you can 
write beautifully and legibly.
You are worth every tear society
makes you hold in.
You are beautiful, handsome,
fabulous, and intelligent. 
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Little Girl

I remember hearing 

"bones are for dogs"

"eat a cheeseburger" 

"size 0 is not a size."

I remember over eating,

till I nearly threw up

because all I wanted 

was to be 'normal.'

I remember staring 

at myself in the mirror

with plain disgust

and hate for a body

that never was.

I had hipbones

that jutted out

like pocket knives.

I had ribs that could be felt 

beneath my shirt,

a spine that could 

clearly be defined.

I was called 'anorexic'

'sick' and 'too skinny.'

I grew up listening

to a society who body shamed

some girls, to make the other girls

feel better about themselves.

I have learned to bite my tongue,

when someone said I should be happy

with my body, because I am skinny.

What people don't realize is that

calling a girl 'too skinny' is the

same as calling a girl 'too fat.'

But in this one-sided society,

no one cared about girls like me.

I was constantly bullied by girls

and boys who would never date me

because 'thigh gaps' 'visible collar bones'

and 'hip bones' are unnatural.

But I was born naturally thin.

This poem is for the girls

who felt they were never good enough

because their butts were too bony

and their boobs barely visible.

This is for the girls who 

were taught to be silent.

We are more than the red marks

they left on our wrists,

proclaiming it tiny, as if we didn't already know.

We are more than the number on the scale.

We are more.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Little Girl
I remember hearing 
"bones are for dogs"
"eat a cheeseburger" 
"size 0 is not a size."
I remember over eating,
till I nearly threw up
because all I wanted 
was to be 'normal.'
I remember staring 
at myself in the mirror
with plain disgust
and hate for a body
that never was.
I had hipbones
that jutted out
like pocket knives.
I had ribs that could be felt 
beneath my shirt,
a spine that could 
clearly be defined.
I was called 'anorexic'
'sick' and 'too skinny.'
I grew up listening
to a society who body shamed
some girls, to make the other girls
feel better about themselves.
I have learned to bite my tongue,
when someone said I should be happy
with my body, because I am skinny.
What people don't realize is that
calling a girl 'too skinny' is the
same as calling a girl 'too fat.'
But in this one-sided society,
no one cared about girls like me.
I was constantly bullied by girls
and boys who would never date me
because 'thigh gaps' 'visible collar bones'
and 'hip bones' are unnatural.
But I was born naturally thin.
This poem is for the girls
who felt they were never good enough
because their butts were too bony
and their boobs barely visible.
This is for the girls who 
were taught to be silent.
We are more than the red marks
they left on our wrists,
proclaiming it tiny, as if we didn't already know.
We are more than the number on the scale.
We are more.



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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Fut-ure

There are times

When I swear,

I cannot go on.

As my tear stained eyes

Become blurry,

My breaths ragged,

Hands trembling.

I think of all the ways

I could possibly disappear,

But there is something

That keeps me alive;

A reason why I still breathe.

I think of the future

all its doubts and uncertainties,

But still I find hope.

There have been many

starving writers before me

And more to come.

Their stomachs may have been empty

Their bodies weakening,

But their souls were screaming

To be freed.

They were a bunch

Of madmen and madwomen

Who refused to surrender

To their human bodies.

They kept starving, but their

Hearts clung to the images

Of their writings.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Fut-ure
There are times
When I swear,
I cannot go on.
As my tear stained eyes
Become blurry,
My breaths ragged,
Hands trembling.
I think of all the ways
I could possibly disappear,
But there is something
That keeps me alive;
A reason why I still breathe.
I think of the future
all its doubts and uncertainties,
But still I find hope.
There have been many
starving writers before me
And more to come.
Their stomachs may have been empty
Their bodies weakening,
But their souls were screaming
To be freed.
They were a bunch
Of madmen and madwomen
Who refused to surrender
To their human bodies.
They kept starving, but their
Hearts clung to the images
Of their writings.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Writing

It always brings a smile to my face

and satisfactory to my heart

when someone compliments

my writing. 

Sometimes, as I sit at my desk

with pen and paper,

I'll read and reread the words

and phrases I used to fill the blank page,

until the letters become scattered and

I can no longer understand the meaning

to my writing.

I often wonder what others 

may think of what I have to say.

I often think if what I say is appropriate.

I do not wish for people to pity me or 

see the devil behind my eyes.

I used to always be afraid

of what others may think,

but then I realized the truth.

I write because I need to breathe

and I breathe because I need to write.

There are letters flowing up and down my veins. 

I breathe words and phrases of simple concepts.

I write for myself because I refuse to die.

My heart may stop beating without a warning,

but the words I have left behind

will keep my soul alive, forever.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Writing
It always brings a smile to my face
and satisfactory to my heart
when someone compliments
my writing. 
Sometimes, as I sit at my desk
with pen and paper,
I'll read and reread the words
and phrases I used to fill the blank page,
until the letters become scattered and
I can no longer understand the meaning
to my writing.
I often wonder what others 
may think of what I have to say.
I often think if what I say is appropriate.
I do not wish for people to pity me or 
see the devil behind my eyes.
I used to always be afraid
of what others may think,
but then I realized the truth.
I write because I need to breathe
and I breathe because I need to write.
There are letters flowing up and down my veins. 
I breathe words and phrases of simple concepts.
I write for myself because I refuse to die.
My heart may stop beating without a warning,
but the words I have left behind
will keep my soul alive, forever.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Common

I am a common girl with a heart full of 

broken dreams and fantasies.

You and I are not different,

despite what we are born to think.

Our styles of writing may vary 

because we all live different lives,

we all have lived different pasts,

and we are all heading into different paths.

What makes us alike

is the embers that burn in our heart,

the voices that keep us up 

in the wee hours of the night.

The images that will not cease

to escape our minds,

no matter how hard we try 

to suppress the memories.

We are all haunted by a certain

event in our lives that changed us forever.

We once used to be whole,

you and I.

Until our hearts were broken,

our innocence stolen

as we came to realize

the world did not care for us

the way we cared for it. 

The world betrayed us. 

We all shared the same 

depth of the world.

We saw everything, 

even when we weren't suppose to.

We are writers.

We understand the world.

There is a void inside us

that will remain forever vacant.

With each poem we compose

we hope to bring back out past selves,

but we cannot. 

Once something is broken

it can never be restored

to its original state,

like you and I.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Common
I am a common girl with a heart full of 
broken dreams and fantasies.
You and I are not different,
despite what we are born to think.
Our styles of writing may vary 
because we all live different lives,
we all have lived different pasts,
and we are all heading into different paths.
What makes us alike
is the embers that burn in our heart,
the voices that keep us up 
in the wee hours of the night.
The images that will not cease
to escape our minds,
no matter how hard we try 
to suppress the memories.
We are all haunted by a certain
event in our lives that changed us forever.
We once used to be whole,
you and I.
Until our hearts were broken,
our innocence stolen
as we came to realize
the world did not care for us
the way we cared for it. 
The world betrayed us. 
We all shared the same 
depth of the world.
We saw everything, 
even when we weren't suppose to.
We are writers.
We understand the world.
There is a void inside us
that will remain forever vacant.
With each poem we compose
we hope to bring back out past selves,
but we cannot. 
Once something is broken
it can never be restored
to its original state,
like you and I.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Broken

Once you get your heart broken,

the world will never be the same.

We will soon start to notice

the many faults around us.

The many cracks in the sidewalk

and the tiny objects that will 

remain trapped and overlooked.

Holes in the walls

where words and fists

were once lodged.

Grains of foundation flaking

where love once existed.

The faltered smiles of humans,

where for an instant

their facade of happiness fell off,

as they regained their composure.

One day, the truth will be unearthed:

We are all broken.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Broken
Once you get your heart broken,
the world will never be the same.
We will soon start to notice
the many faults around us.
The many cracks in the sidewalk
and the tiny objects that will 
remain trapped and overlooked.
Holes in the walls
where words and fists
were once lodged.
Grains of foundation flaking
where love once existed.
The faltered smiles of humans,
where for an instant
their facade of happiness fell off,
as they regained their composure.
One day, the truth will be unearthed:
We are all broken.
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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Depression

I often feel like

I am trapped in 

my own head.

I yell and scream 

for help, but

receive treatment

for a mental disorder

doctors deem unfit to survive.

They label me a threat

to society, a potential

destroyer of the earth.

But they fail to realize,

the hate growing within me,

for myself as I stare at the 

blank white walls,

watching them turn red

as blood runs down my 

forearms. I can hear the sirens

ringing in my ears, they are coming.

Before everything blacks out,

I see the devil smiling.

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Written by lonely in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Depression
I often feel like
I am trapped in 
my own head.
I yell and scream 
for help, but
receive treatment
for a mental disorder
doctors deem unfit to survive.
They label me a threat
to society, a potential
destroyer of the earth.
But they fail to realize,
the hate growing within me,
for myself as I stare at the 
blank white walls,
watching them turn red
as blood runs down my 
forearms. I can hear the sirens
ringing in my ears, they are coming.
Before everything blacks out,
I see the devil smiling.
9
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