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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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God Loves Me?
You tell me that God loves me
and watches over me
you also say that God hates sinners
and nonbelievers
God hates those that do not praise nor pray to them
God hates promiscuity
and queers
But I am some of those things that you claim God hates
So how can you say that God loves me?
God loves conditionally and I do not meet the standards
So God must not actually love me
You tell me that God watches over me
you also say that my pain and suffering are my own to weather
you tell me that God never gives anyone a hardship nor battle that they cannot overcome
But if God loves me why did God give me this battle or hardship?
Why did God give me pain?
You tell me God fulfills the prayers of believers
and of the worthy
yet I have prayed in my lowest moments
and never heard a response nor gained God’s help
I am a believer at the very least
God must have overlooked my prayers
or ignored them
So loving God does not guarantee God loves me
and believing in God does not mean God believes in me
and praying to God does not promise God is listening
This is the God that is supposed to love me?
This is the God that is supposed to watch over me?
Maybe God does for you
but it is clear that your God is not my God
The family you boast of does not include me
The God that loves you does not love me
so I will learn to believe in myself
I will be my God
I will learn to love me better than your God does
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Temple for None
I am but half of a person
I am only a person half of the time
I am a body, an empty vessel
If a body is a temple,
This temple has fallen into disrepair.
The foundation was built in uneven ground
Atop burial grounds
It cracks under the weight of worship
And covers the hallowed ground
In place of an altar there lay a pit
A sinkhole
A place to let go of dreams now out of reach
The windows have been boarded up
Wood not safe to be touched
Every edge a splinter in wait
The doors do not open for anyone
There are no longer any handles
In fact, the doors may just be an illusion carved into the stone walls
I sit in my pit, on my altar
Praying to be heard from whatever God this temple is build for
But there are no places for my voice to escape through
So it is silent
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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What is the Shape of Your Grave?
You say there are no bargains between Lions and Men,
but which are you?
Lions do not make bargains,
nor do they claim any moral code.
Men kill, steal, and cheat
all whilst knowing that what they do is wrong
So which are you?
Lion or Man
You are enemies of circumstance,
and foes because of love'
Two men fighting and two men dead.
Neither of you are winners,
but killing is much easier when you have no guilt to weigh you down,
and Lions do not feel guilt
So which are you?
Lion or Man
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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What Truth Can You Offer Me?
TW: Eating Disorder, Suicidal Ideation, Depression
What is the truth you want to hear
The one where I tell you that the 100 on the scale is too low
Or the one where I admit I don’t think it’s low enough
What truth do you want me to offer
That the headaches from my caffeine addiction is actually because I didn’t eat
That sometimes I just don’t feel hungry
And that sometimes is too often
And not often enough
What is the truth
I told people I didn’t want to die anymore
Was it the truth
What do I want to be the truth
That these months have been the best I can remember
Or that they have been the most difficult
The truth
Neither statement is true
All statements are true
In one moment I believe them all
In the next I try to forget
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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I’m Not Hungry
TW: Eating Disorder, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Intrusive Thoughts
I thought if I stared long enough at the scale the number would change
My weight would change
My worth would change
But the number stares back at me
So honest
Unforgiving
And I wonder what number would make me happy
What is the furthest I must go to look at myself and be satisfied
How many meals must I skip
Enough that the feeling of hunger is comforting to me
I hardly remember what it’s like to be satisfied
I figure that if I am unsatisfied in life that i don’t deserve to have my hunger satisfied
My parents say that’s too cruel
That the number on the scale does not equal my worth
That if i don’t eat I will waste away
I am already wasting away
I know they are right
But the voice in my head
Saying that the number I see is too high
Is louder than the one saying I am hungry
Sometimes reason does not win out
When faced with an immovable obstacle
But I also know that it is not immovable
I just think I deserve it
So why should I remove it from my path
When feeling hungry is now my comforting constant
all roads lead back to feeling unsatisfied
I am too weak now
But if I gain weight I will still hate myself
I am too lazy
But if I get up to run I will remember that I stopped for a reason
My body is not a temple
It does not deserve praise
It is a prison that has been worn out
And I am tired
So I get on the scale again and hope the number will change
But I’m no longer sure if I want it to increase or decrease
And I know that neither will make me happy
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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SummerTime Accidents
TW: Car Accident, Injury, PTSD
Funny how it all goes
One car accident February
the 13th
And another
August
The 13th
Two days after my birthday
Seventeen
What a big age
After a summer of seeing friends at least once a week
After a summer of actually having friends to see
It all broke
Because someone didn’t check if their light was green
Before going
Right into the drivers side
The airbags deployed
The windows broke
My foot broke
My ankle broke
And something inside me broke
I’m not sure if it ever healed
I used to want to reach to the stars
But it became clear to me that someone wanted me to stay on the ground
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Late Night Driving
TW: Suicidal Ideation, Anxiety, Intrusive Thoughts
I never learned to cope with stress or sadness the right way
If there is truly a “right way”
I never learned to comfort myself
Or to relax
But I learned how to read
I learned to write
And swim
And drive
And I did all those things
Or none
Whenever I thought life would get too hard
I just cracked
I tried to carry the weight of the world
But I was too weak
Or at least that’s how I liked to see it
But maybe I was just human
And I tried to do too much
Be too many places
Be too many different versions of myself
I just forgot who I was in the end
I just stared at the third attempt of my physics problem
And wondered who I was meant to be
And who I was
And if it really mattered at all
When I needed breathing room I took a drive
But it had to be just the right time
Empty roads
To empty my mind
Driving in circles because even when I wanted to feel free I felt trapped
Life is an endless cycle and I keep hitting the turnaround
When the stars were out
I went a different direction
Past the highway
To the little Freddy’s
I grabbed their special
Mint and Oreo custard
Turned up my music
And sat in the parking lot
Thinking
I liked to act like tomorrow didn’t matter
That it was too far in the distance to hurt me
When I shivered from the cold
And my hands went stiff from holding the ice cream
I told myself that all pain was temporary
And everyday ends
Every week ends
Every month
Every year
Every life
I turned the music up just a little louder
I went to the Freddy’s to forget
I went out on a drive to relax
But I never learned how to relax
And I never learned how to cope with the idea
That maybe I didn’t want the next day to come
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Prom?
They say growing up is hard
And I think that rings true
But some say coming out is hard
But for me that was the easy part
I told my mother I wanted to ask a girl to prom
All she said was “Okay. Why?”
At first I lied
“Well we just thought it would be fun”
But that evening I pulled her to the side and told her the truth
“Mama I want to hold this girl’s hand,
I like her,
I want to be her date”
All she said was “Okay.”
I wondered then if this is when it all would change
If they’d change their mind about me
Because I wasn’t afraid of saying i was gay
I was afraid that they would change the way they looked at me
I was afraid that they would ask me to hide that part of me away
To be a bird in a gilded cage for them
My dad didn’t need to be told
He just asked
I said yes
We moved on
And I waited for things to change
And I waited
And waited
But they never did
I dated that girl
I took her to prom
And I got dumped
And they never tried to pretend i was someone new
Or pretend that nothing had changed
They never changed the way they looked at me
But I changed
I got to be out
And they loved me anyways
Not everyone gets that
Some people get a closed door
And a note asking them not to come back
But my dad would still wait up when I was out late
And my mom still tried to get me up on the weekends for brunch
My family didn’t have problems 
I did
My fear of rejection had been unfounded
But I was still afraid
Of the world
Of my future
And of what people would say to me at school if I were out
I made a cage for myself and locked myself inside when I left home
So I was most myself in front of my parents
How welcoming and lonely
Because how many 16 year olds do you know that say their best friends are their parents
I felt loved
I felt lonely
I felt sad
I felt afraid
When I went to school and my friends talked about boys
I nodded and laughed
And pretended I understood
And I wished that I could
So badly
Maybe then I wouldn’t be afraid
Maybe then I wouldn’t hate myself
But some things don’t change
Not my height
Not my parents loving me
Not my sexuality
It was a new normal that I tried to be okay with
I was always a dreamer though
An anchor never fit me
And I couldn’t help but dream of being free
Of being happy
All so out of reach
A dream
I thought maybe that’s all it would ever be
And maybe I would learn to be okay with that.
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Tennis and God
She had a pretty smile
She made me believe that angels could take human form
Her voice made me think of the soft crunch of fall leaves underfoot
She wore sweaters too big for her
And she missed classes for tennis
I always noticed when the spot next to me was empty
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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The Weight of Sixteen
Sixteen
What a big age
My own car
The keys to the world
Instead of exploring
I sat at my desk and buried myself under homework and assignments
That didn’t matter
I checked my grades daily
As if that would change anything
My worth was valued by the numbers I believed defined me
Defined my future
I had the keys to the world
But I never used them
I drove in circles
Then back home
To my desk
To my textbooks
To the anxiety I didn’t know how to live without
I was sixteen and I was running out of time
I ran out of time
I spent it all focused on due dates
I spent it being afraid of time catching up to me
I forgot how to be a child
I ran out of time to be sixteen
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Sun - The Friends That Can Be Cruel
You are the Sun.
I miss you more when you’re not here,
Behind the clouds is better.
You don’t need to yell,
I know you are there.
You remind me every day.
Jealousy is a wicked mistress,
And you serve her well.
Glaring at me with your bright eyes,
And reminding me that I am small.
You are the Sun.
I’d rather hide from you,
Than meet you face to face.
I can’t stand heat of your anger,
And I don’t want to have to.
You burn my skin, my eyes, my heart,
And do not apologize for the way you treat me.
When you leave it is cold.
I find myself missing your warmth,
And you.
It is cruel.
You treat me as less than equal,
But I still come crawling back each day.
I want your warmth,
But I fear your fire.
It is best if you stay behind the clouds,
So I may receive love without anger.
You are the Sun,
And I love you more when you’re not here.
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Youth
Dance in the rain
While your clothes weigh
You down.
Run through a 
Freshly mowed lawn
In clean socks.
Tuck flowers in your hair
And roll down hills.
Play hide-and-seek
In trees you can climb
But not escape.
Forget to wear
Sunscreen
And get sand
In your shoes.
Go to amusement parks
And get lost
In the crowd.
Spend your last 
Few dollars
On a new shirt
You don’t need.
Stay up all night
Because
Sleep is for the weak,
But don’t wake up
Til’ Monday.
Do it all.
Before your bones
Creak and groan.
Before time is short
And work piles up.
Before there are more
Important things
Than fun and games.
Before 
Youth runs out.
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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A Home With Misery
Do what you like. For here I am.
Bold, honest, gentle.
Of bounds and limits nothing
Of all great battles Progress is vicious
For it is not liberty but a sound like thunder
Misery makes the offer bold, honest, gentle.
Throwing my future, my youth, my life.
Revolution cannot remain under the same roof.
Alexander, Caesar, Titus
All nations offer circumstances for admiration.
To be abandoned in history,
Woe to the man who leaves behind a shadow
Motionless, shuddering, carried off by Eternity.
Misery makes the offer bold, honest, gentle.
God. The winged stranger, does not fear
Business carried on in a whisper
The glow of spring was a choir of angels
Misery makes the offer bold, honest, gentle.
Intoxicated, enraptured God open the flowers before man
And did not keep the halo
He was free from vice. But not skepticism.
Bishop
Take pity on my Misery
For Utopias travel underground.
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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The Angels Are Dying
I’d always believed the angels would be kind
All bark no bite, upon their thrones of golden light
Meant to stand strong for what is right,
But it seems even angels get tired of peace.
“A warm bed would be nice” said they one cloudy afternoon
Their glowing halos held tightly in their hands,
And my reply, “you’ve got no place to make demands”
Nothing lost but the shreds of holy dignity beneath restless feet.
Empty home by morning’s light as shadows take up residence,
Though the table is always full for a joyous dinner,
And stories are told without a campfire, who knew angels too are sinners,
But it seems even angels get tired of order.
Their attire, pure white, worn under the cloak of night,
And clear might, gave away their thankless life.
They march along dutifully, belonging to God’s fife,
Nothing won but the worn out chains of expectation.
Some days they wander out to drink, the sun shrinking away,
And foolishly confess to me their greatest fears.
“One day we won’t be needed, they hardly care if we’re near”
It seems even angels get tired of charity.
When winter comes they stay full time as darkness takes ahold
Their suits of white shoved in corners gathering dust,
And their golden halos disappearing under rust,
Nothing lost but stains of virtue and sleepless nights.
I’d always believed the angels would be kind,
And sometimes, some days, some afternoons, they were,
But only when they wanted to, in low whispers,
Today, it seems, the angels are tired of being angels.
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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A Song For You
Let me sing you a song
Not a pretty one
The clarinets are out of sync
The trumpets are just a little too loud
And the snare drum is off beat
But let me sing you a song anyways
It is the truth
So it will not be harmonious
Such is life
I would open my mouth and start on a cracking high note
I would try to hit notes far out of my range
Refuse to use all the techniques I never learned
You will wish you had turned away at the start
That you never entertained the idea of my song
Let me sing you a song
The words will say nothing
The instruments will sound chaotic
And the lyrics will be hollow
Such is my life
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Freshman year came
I felt small
Big school
Big personalities
A shadow
I wanted to be memorable
To make a mark
I willed myself to become clay
And learn to shape myself
Me
The potter
Me
The artist
Me
The scriptwriter
Me
The actor
I scraped the surface of group after group
I was clay
To fit any mold
But I could never find the perfect shape
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hereismybadpoetry · 2 years
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Last Minute Decisions
Maybe creative writing could be my path?
I was hesitant
I wanted to have a leap of faith
But my faith was waning
I could take a couple poems to a creative art school
And choose to start over new
But that leap of faith 
Was too far fetched to me
I never even tried
Just accepted that I would go to a high school 5 minutes away from home
And that would be okay
I re-read my writing until I had it all memorized
Until I concluded
That I was not good enough
And I deleted it all
So I couldn’t give myself the chance of looking back
And regretting
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