Poems about sad

These tears won't stop coming
It's been days and days
I'm drowning
My carpet is wet
The bed is soaked
My eyes are red
Not much can be said
For this sad state I'm in
And yes that's a pun
For I am very sad
Very sad, indeed.

I'm stranded alone
In this strange place I called home
No longer familiar
As still as a stone
But, I need to roam
To the place I feel at home
With you and the others
Not here by myself.

Little Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket
With the pixie cut high boot style,
Rolls her eyes sarcastically behind
Glasses, and a flirtatious desire
And wonders if the professor
Likes what he sees
At the smallest two person table.
Reading willing and able
To fuck his student raw
Although she knows this,
That's the plan;
Academic battle strategy,
She thinks it a talent
Double-talking with her hands to seduce him.
Wrist bones whispering
ВЂњNo one else here has to know”
She shyly smiles and laughs in her mind,
ВЂњSad fool thinks some day ill go home with him”.
ВЂњSad fool just game me that extension”
The sad fool checks an email defeated,
Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket has won.

The bruises in her cheeks disguise her pink blush.
The cuts on her arm hide her flawless skin.
The frown she wears hide those smiles that makes everyone's day.
She is the girl of your dreams.
She's the one you fall asleep thinking of.
She's the one you wake up dreaming about.

The bruises on her cheeks faded away.
The cuts on her are scarred and decided to stay.
The frown she wore turns into an angelic smile.
I love this girl.
Even though I've only known her a little while.
She said "write me a poem. "
So I write her this.
You're perfect to me,
Don't ever change,
You're a star in the sky,
And you made my day.

In this day and time,
Sad poems are everywhere.
Maybe that is why,
Young people think its 'cool'
To harm oneself or drink away the pain.
Maybe this is why,
Happy poems are so hard to find.
Maybe this is why,
Anytime I look for poems
I get put into my feels,
And it's so hard to get out of that hole.
My solution:
Lets make a challenge,
Because everyone loves challenges.
My challenge is to Make more happy poems.

There I am,
Staring at the snowy television,
Thinking about what was said.

I met a girl in my dreams,
Her name was Clyda,
And she stood under the cotton candy skies,
And told me that I mattered.

She gave me a cigarette,
Which even in my dreams,
I can't stay away from,
And pointed at the caps on the
Mountains that framed the horizon.

I'm really not that sad,
Nothing's happened to me,
To make me feel this way.

But I guess the worst type of war,
Is the one that creates terror,
On it's own frontlines.

I am afraid of what my hands may write
I'm not sure why....
Most likely something to do with not wanting to hurt anything innocent
But I suppose we all fail at that endeavor.

Fragile, beautiful things come into our hands and we break them,
Not purposefully, desiring not to kill a lovely thing...
But we can't seem to help it,
Can't seem to help hurting people we love.

It ought to have been different, no one should be made to laugh at their own dreams...

I don't want to write anymore; I want the peace of sleep.
But I have to write...to keep my soul from dying, I have to write......
But the only person I want to say anything to doesn't hear me.
No matter how absurd the situation appears,
The emotions that we feel are all we have that keeps us alive.

Oceans separate people from each other....
Oceans that even psychonauts are loath to attempt a crossing of.
Anyone who ever believed in anything knows this:
Things ought to have been different....

But people can't think about things like this all time;
People aren't able to go through all of the bullshit that encompasses modern life while contemplating the mysteries of human experience.
And when things get too complicated we run away...

We fear what we don't understand,
And I am afraid of you.
No one had ever turned me inside out like you.
No one has ever managed to cut through the crap and shake me to the core....
Except you....

But there's no time to focus on that,
There's no time to focus on one another when the whole world is imposing itself on you.
How can we possibly be expected to delve into people's souls
When our mortgage is due eh?

Why should we have to feel the need to love someone
While having to maintain one's sanity in order to survive?
Since isn't that what love is...a kind of insanity;
The kind of insanity where one's ego is completely swept away.

Freud never loved...
Never could form the concept of ego death
Into a beautiful thing...

Certain things will never be spoken aloud by me,
Only written of....
Because I too am enslaved against my will by fear of the unknown....

Those words do not encompass my emotions.
I am so much more than just sad,
It's not a bad day,
It's so much more.
What I have been through,
And I how I feel,
Is not properly explained.
Not with "I'm sad. "
Not with any words.

Terrible.
Utterly terrible.
The cake would say.
The trouble I've had in the oven today.
Blasting heat, smashing my tin
Which the goo is sitting in.
Tapping to see if I have got
A soggy bottom. If you please.
If I had, I certainly would not
Broadcast it. Keep it clean.
Scraping the bowl, oh I would love to do that.
Fingers sliding over the goo ooooh.
Magic box of tricks
That cake mix.
No one has touched me
Not been anywhere near me.
Not even a try
I wonder why.