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.
Believe not in yourself when your mind is not stable You Pardon yourself when mistake is done unknowingly You blame yourself when knowingly you committed mistake You praise yourself when you have helped somebody in need You feel yourself proud
You told me lot of stories….. on the field, in the moonlit night. stars above and the moon alone listened to your words, far away, someone is singing a song, song of desire and despair song of departure……. a story
Smoke billows and mingling with the dust rises, a solid choking mass that coats with dirty grey the shapes that lie so still. The silence, broken only by a tearful moan, uneasy on the waiting ears of those who stand
The little shadow walked into her lonely world, his eyes candid, covered in a helmet, he looked onto hers. Into that dark, holy night of a love unfelt that swirled, Her eyes wandered and recalled “dear love bereaved”, the echoing
There are so many things that happen, Some things are too subtle And some too apparent. Some, however insignificant, bring immense joy And some, no matter how big, make us cry Small gestures Simple words And great pleasures Silences that
He was very thin, half naked, one arm broken, glasses cracked. Early morning an owlet will land over its head And give a long hoot. The bleary eyes will look down non-chalantly on browsing goats at its feet. I will
though moo cho yars older, i (bovine cuddly name = hay4four at aol dot com), could feign 2b a frat house bro by undergoing a facial augmentation – despite lacking dough unlike the multimillionaires here in lower merion, where a
It fell like nothing before, and tried hard to quench the thirst, but every drop of it failed, whether the last..or the first…. The coolness was now a dream, the passion a haste, hence when it kissed the ground, it
My Darling… We are a secret in running shoes. To hide the very nature Of our delinquency, We say our precious words In darkness Lest our hearts be broken. We spill our guts, Scream our pain Precious Pallasite. You named
I was a little kid, reading books, listening to my grandpa and grandma, telling stories about the rainbow. I was fond of it, I was even sharing it, Drawing about it even if I am not good in painting it.
Her touch has such softness I’m bound to miss, Light as a feather blown upon my face, To lay like lips with tenderest of kiss, That memory will always bear the trace; As stars of thousand longings are her eyes,
May Time and Love as One Wait upon You! Hoard neither love nor time! Stashed away, A year of love, night or day, Ain’t worth a dime! Nor fritter either as ceremonies But as memories Lived of former moons and
A distraught moon takes a misstep and goes behind the hill to take a holy bath. Disconnects with a trespasser and sends to night, a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers. Shades of lies haunt, in flames of faith. A
After running for the flesh, why did you make a home for the death? Was it a reverence for buying the peace? Or fear of uncertainty and suspense in the bosom of pain? The panther was only thirsty, there was
School is considered as the second home to which many children for their future come, taking the first step of their life to become a hero in the strife A place which teaches us to dream, A place which reflects
The aesthetic beauty of twilight , Reminds of a lost soul, In the fleeting moment of bygone years, That vanished to oblivion, Surfacing in the sea of thoughts, To bring back the silent hopes, Wishfully strewn in path of life.
Freedom is a dream A subtle silvery dream Hanging around the hills and vales of our desires Delicate threads Interwoven in intricate patterns A trap for the naive mind. Freedom is a constant struggle The writhing battle between The butterfly
My Childhood Was Depressing, I am talking about dolphins with no water depressing, fishes with no fins depressing, candy with no flavor depressing, I mean so depressing that I grew up wondering if happiness ever existed in this place we
In the steadiest motion few dainty butterflies Rose in the air, gave your eyes a big surprise You, enchanted, rubbed your hands to prepare For the hunt, your clever preys were but unaware Of the plans that in your cunning
A tight-rope Walker incredibly skilled, Highest ropes he’d walked the world over, Even Niagara Falls, fearlessly he’d crossed over. In New York he once announced, Walk on rope I will across two high scrapers. On the street, a crowd huge