Desk, empty because, you bullied her.
Left her feeling worthless.
Took all her courage,
made everything seem hopeless.
Never the one to ask.
All she wanted was acceptance.
She never wished, anything, but
a friend to feel her presence.
Hurtful words and lies,
did their best to make her cry.
Lost her interest in the world,
became a bird with no will to fly.
Truly wretched to consider,
when dying becomes easier than life
No more energy left to fight.
She thought of the sharpened knife.
Desk, still empty.
You went and bullied her,
you committed life’s biggest crime.
Your words became death’s chauffeur.
Natural thoughts about *sorrow Honest poems on Death Poems related to Hurt
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The echo of my footsteps As I walk past the porch, The creaking of the rocker As the breeze gives it a life. Tell me a story chair, Of all that you have seen: Boys and girls on their bikes,
The echo of my footsteps As I walk past the porch. The creaking of the rocker As the breeze gives it a push. Tell me a story chair, Of all that you have seen: Boys and girls on their bikes,
I have empty pockets, and a heart full of gold. A family of eight, and friends new and old. I have blisters and bruises and cuts on my hands, no food for my family, and no wealth in my land.
As I hold her wrinkled hand in mine I look at her eyes so divine The smile on her face shows joy in her heart It shall remain and never depart… She sits in her rattan chair She falls asleep
take back your smile, the fish has died in my hands; nowhere you have touched me deep in the brutal corona of a black moon – my sun spots were waning: a hole in the wind, chased adulthood of man