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.
The tide stroked at my toes. It reminded me how… gentle Your touch used to be. A gilded sun enveloped the glass sea, Glistening; the way your Eyes lit a darkened room. Waves, Crashed. Semi-translucent images Come and go on
The crowd buzzed like a hornet’s nest The cacophony too loud The girl on stage was all alone Staring beyond the crowd The colours around All red and yellow meant to reflect The bridal glow Spectators sitting Speculations were rife
Lipped-wet, Counterfeits. Fakes neither audible nor visible. The moment dies in our hands. It was a non- happening. Silence booms destroying the palace, of dreams. I should have become the scissors. This poem is not charitable gnawing at the underlip
Four deep behind bevelled glass Glazed by dreams Of Spanish Isles of turquoise And dark eyed maidens The smell of damp rock And kerosene Breath like iron Into black rock Promises to sad wives far away Children peering through frosty
I stay connected out of the body, with fireworks, to widen the relativity, to read the language of fear. Death of a tree was mourned by leaves in shadow. The dew lies awake crying. The town was disappearing without a
We watched them leaving- Leaving for the western plateau. We have our kin over there. They have promised them free passage. Will the others do the same? Some of them vowed to come back. Some of them cursed us back.
Conviction is an illusion to take your choice away Belief is the act of choice within the confines of an illusion In life there is also death to give balance to think you have a choice at all The choice
Cupid wrote a poem Hefty in the shape of hearts The mischievous wind grew jealous Plotting to scatter his heartfelt leaflets Not remembering their order He sorted them best he could The wind laughed at his misfortune Proud of its
There are nightmare dreams that haunt the sky From minds hard anchored to the earth And deadened thoughts from dead ones eyes Who’s living failed them at their birth. No Lovers touched by lovers thoughts Nor Eros arrows piercing hearts
Just an observation, To the moment close by; Your eyes sneaking out of window, But mine are stuck to thy. A strange feeling, Afraid, don’t know how to make a move; Waiting to get a glimpse of your Ming, Just
The king made a fun of our poverty. Marble faced girls always thought, wearing black scarves – sweeping the floor of white mausoleum. You made a death a loving eternity. We die daily in the face of old shine. Who
So I find myself once again in the shadow of the crescent moon Back to the marshlands in the throes of an ancient gossamer Forest…well I can still hear your voodoo beckoning the sprits And I too can feel the
I have been on this lane before, I have seen the disdain and more, I have known this dark alley These dark labyrinths, The stark deserted streets, I was that lonely lark Looming high upon the street, The street of