Hurtful poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of hurtful poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on hurtful are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Wrapping arms around myself, I sit down mutely, Numbed by a pain, Spreading through me. A gnawing pain radiates, With a sting of words, Hurled thoughtlessly, Locking me in a maze. Words that cut through, Causing a throbbing pain so
In this maddening town, I start my day, Early morning, with rough, uneven ride, The place where blindfolded people play, I try to play it right; however I fail each time, I think to myself Oh! You worthless being, You
Why utter words, Not meant in reality, But to show out, A mask of fallacy. Reflection of actions, Speak the truth, Showing the pretense, Making me a fool. In a sea of words, Inconsistency of actions, I make a puddle,
Sometimes I wonder what’s it gonna be like without the one you once loved, yeah it’s gonna be hard your gonna experience the most pain probably in your life.. and your gonna think your not gonna find someone else.. and
Rain, go somewhere else, I’m pained within. Wash away hurtful experiences. longed to hold onto my innocence, beauty. flawed personality, though wounded. Rain, don’t improve appearances, It’s my heart that needs mending, Start renewing what’s most important, It’s not my
A sweet child, an innocent creature Or sheep skin hiding a terrible monster Her true nature none knew She was loved by too few Crimson drops dotted the floor Tracing her path out of the door Barefoot in the grass,
I am precious to both kingdoms, both dark and light. I carry power and potential to grow both kingdoms, so both sides are fighting for me. The one king offers: Temporary satisfaction and happiness, but neglects me when I am
Loneliness. A word meant to hurt. Something hard to handle. Alone, all alone. Loneliness. We all have faced this. Something, we can not change, even if we try our best. Loneliness. This is a part in everyone’s life. Old or
Something is hurting inside me Ripping my soul in two Its never right. Never wrong Its the way of things. Why? Why does this have to happen? I feel something. Breaking apart. Falling apart. It’s hurtful. Its not going away.
You’re lingering when the rain falls after a spell of dry that calls Give me the sweet scents when you hit the ground just like those scenes tied me around You’re the only memory that I can remember when my
Robots on the line, With their tedious whine. Options galore, Just hit buttons one to four. What happened to the good old days, When real people used to say, Hello and how can I help you, And what was that
Looked downward – the granite face, to see imprinted kupfernickeled god, lying in dust. From where to where we have come sleepwalking? In freezing winds, like brown angels with swollen lids. White moon-poised to commit suicide? Blindfolded heavy as lead
When I enter into the Class Can hear the noise of screwing and grinding Some of them sing and write Few bite and threaten Last benchers fearlessly chewing the bubblegum of life Girls beholding the elegant fingers Blackboard turns into
At the time of leaving, the girl didn’t cry. Her dad knew; the princess was now a queen to someone. The princess, famous for stealing hearts of all, now had herself stolen by a crowned head. The girl who understood
I’ve become aware I can time-travel, particle-physics has long posited this, Stephen Hawking admits it’s possible, even likely. It starts out this way, drowsing on my front room sofa TV tuned down, & in just a moment an hour and
‘Twas the month before Christmas, I was feeling quite pleased 16 days since I smoked, 16 days since I wheezed The ashtrays were stashed, my lighter long gone The cravings more tolerable, not nearly as strong I reminded myself. “don’t
I look around I see things that I don’t have to I feel things that are sacrilegious I do things that are desecration I can’t breath anymore I can’t smile I can’t laugh I am dragging a dead corpse everywhere
A tribal fear was lurking, behind a surge of emotion. The sun was looking black. A sexual abuse of a quaint flower aborts the fruit. This year we will go hungry. A nascent seed stripped on road- cries for water.
One Thousand Dreams, Thrills, Fogs of December You wake up in a lonely station when people passing.. One Thousands way to escape like every one did you met… in another world everyone is vagabond.. Mama was gone, you don’t know
Once when the forest wept, We hid under a tree, as if protected. Twice we saw the force of the storms, Cycle so stunning, even as it poured. Three pinecones fell to the ground, When they splashed, what a sound.
Moonless shadows flicker from an ebbing amber candle on the farm house porch just off Old Mill Road, too hot to sleep. Solstice stillness in rural dark deepens following a distant dim lightning flash rumbling thunder this midsummer night. Invisible
His fingers were frenetically tapping, as if passionately rehearsing the recapitulation of Schubert’s rich, nuanced B Flat Major Sonata. Eyes darting back and forth in the waiting room, accompanying the clamor of paper rustling and sonorous rhythmic accented breathing. *click*
Silent heat rose from the molten embers of a dying day, The grey asphalt lay sweating in the setting sun of scorching May. A drop falls hither; Eyelids quiver, A soggy breeze from the wild wet west Made my moist
Dismantled by your dance of the dead, that disfigured dialect. Assurance in our arrangement is altered. Why conjure this apparition? While I am solely safe, sent softly? Sweet sorrow summons spirit. Fabricated bliss felt; her familiar face Flown to my
Running, searching, seeking, looking for that sign The one that says your welcome, please come inside The sign that says your wanted The sign that says your mine Running, searching, seeking looking for that sign A red rose resting on
Welcome to the noun. It was quite the adjective. It was once renowned, almost like a narrative. But those filthy verbs… They took us with conjunctions. It would be superb, if there were no expunctions. Without an interjection, you may
If I were to throw you into the deepest Parts of the sea, my lovely, You’d drown: Not because the water runs deep Or because the waves consume you; Not because you don’t know where the shore is or Because
The door closes behind me with a snap. My footsteps echo strangely on the street’s pavement. I feel the urge to go back. A pale sun is struggling hard to escape the cloud’s clutches. The smell of incense covers the
The sands of time, so apt! Grain by grain, Unendingly, our lives ebb away. Like a candle lit at birth, Burning bright- Till the end, Our lives too- Sometimes in a fright! Seasons come, seasons go- Sunrise after sunset, a