Most Liked Childhood Poems (355)

Ive gone beyond the mirror

To see what I can see

Am I merely a reflection

Or is this really me?

Separated by a pane of glass and a metal frame

Have I still got my sanity

Or am I going insane?

Terrified and tormented,
It is about how it is for me.
Bullied and verbally beaten,
Please somebody bandage me.

Delightful donations this how I want to be,
In my extreme, exited to believe.
Having caring courage, this about right for me.
With a happy gratitude hangs great gesture, with open opportunities.
Unseen innocence this how they judge me
Mystifying unicorns, this is how I want to dream.

Tangled in a social network, trying to be free,
To have my independence, so somebody notices me
All the wanting willingness of all the variations, restoring poetic piece,
Will this be my victory?
In an emotional triangle, always pointing at me,
In my teenage years please look out for me.

Hiding my gentle tears, for you not to see,
Handling the problems, of my teenage years
For no one to have my fears.
Speaking aloud all the problems, I here
My voice no longer feels it needs to have the fear.

Somebody always has the answers, makes it sound so clear,
However, when I’m on my own, then comes my greatest fear.
Trying to remember, the words I heard so clear.
The jumbled up sounds, blend in to my tears.
When the trouble starts, I try to leave my fears,
But drowning in my emotions and the cloudy eyes of tears.

So now, I feel the danger creeping in my anger,
Cause now I blame myself for feeling like a tangle
In this anguished pain, not to feel so plain,
I take my life and end it with an angel.

i wish i didn't do this
i wish i was ok
i wish the past would lose itself
and daddy would go away.


i'm sorry that i ruined your life
but fact is that he ruined mine
yes-i could've kept it secret
but then i'd be dead and you'd regret it.


well daddy-was it worth it all?
few drinks made the demon call.
well i'm done now
it's all over

in the morning i'll be here with another hangover

We've all had one a childhood


Then we get older and have our own


I guess we will never learn


to leave well enough alone

I choose who, and I choose when.
But I didn't chose how my story began.

Do I know this is wrong?
Of course I do.
But when I take the money
Who's the fool?

I can walk the streets numb to the world
remembering nothing-all a whirl
when you took what you took
was it worth it all
after all i was just a little girl.

oh my child please pick up your toys, why should i have to. oh my child its time for your bath, why me. oh my child its your turn to do the dishes,its not fare. oh my child what to do what to do. Your words of it's not fare,why me,I shouldent have to, drive me insane. oh my child why you demand with I wants,I need,I have to have. oh my child you have one large case of me idous. Ill do for you as much as I can with out complaint, but please my child show some restrant.

It's one of those wonders that takes one's breath,
the birth of a child from an experience near death.
A Mother's nine months coming to full completion,
as her little bundle of joy provides her sheer elation.

This miracle of birth that keeps all races running,
these babies void of prejudice and all evil shunning.
Smiles to them are welcome, all hugs warmly received,
a baby's sense of true goodness in mankind is believed.

No concern about their looks, no need to powder their faces,
no worries about their peers or being seen in cool places.
Life for a baby is simple, wonderfully free of stress & demands,
all they have to do is coo, giggle and smile within our hands.

It's to bad that the purity and bliss of a babies innocent life,
can't last longer than it does in this world filled with strife.
The lessons they learn these babies born around the world,
like anger, hatred and ugly foul words carelessly being hurled.

Their purity and innocence given to them from a loving God,
is mindlessly taken from them like a bank vault being robbed.
We take their innocence and replace it with ugly dirt and filth,
their purity we trample under foot without a single sign of guilt.

The examples we give toward one another and upon our T.V. set,
shows these babies how to act for the things they want, then get.
Their innocence and charm to us, no longer their pure, selfless gift,
tis now time to compete with us in causing their own selfish rift.

What happens that we cluelessly spoil such beauty in a child,
to cause something so pure and right to go so wrongfully wild?
Will the time ever come when man realizes the damage he does,
or will generation next be completely oblivious with a buzz?

How can it be right when never shown the light?
In a time in his so called prime told do as I say not as I do
He’s just the problem child, he’s just so wild
He begs for help but he says he is fine
He was told grow up, get over it, it will pass
How will he grow up when all he wants is to throw up
Then called discipline now called abuse
So tried, so tired
Beaten up, never to be beaten down
It will take its toll until he’s a troll
Not knowing what the world will take
He takes on the world
He’s just a kid yearning and still learning
Crying without tears smiling without happiness
Walking without stride and very little pride
Running without dreams jumping without joy
Restless like a strong wind in the trees trying to stand tall to only be blown off balance again…and again till the leaves fall eventually snapping a limb
Like a tide in the sea trying to reach the shore with every wave that seems to get closer to only be drawn back out even further
Where will he be when he can’t even see?
Where will he go when time runs out?
Who will he become when all is said and done?
Like the water from the sky always seen coming down but never seen going up
His life is unseen mess, like a puddle in the ground left to drain in the cold clay or frozen over in a cold winter’s night
Is he capable of seeing the light?
Brick by brick, bit by bit as the walls go up spiralling around so high; the sun only shines for a second a day
Then came a day when a hand was open with all fingers showing and the palm facing up
He was not sure what this was or how to embrace it, his instincts were shy his better judgment cried
Like a seedling in the dark looking for the light, it’s all so ever bright but can feel the warmth of the sun in a clear sky
In time he will grow with the light by his side and the warmth at his feet to know everything is not as it seemed
Growing leaf by leaf branch by branch, the bark peeling year by year revealing a new skin, that’s now so hard and brittle
Then time moved on as he stood so ever high and strong until he come tumbling down
Like a wood chopper taking his axe, lifting it high above his head to bring it down with the weight of the axe head and the strength of his arms with no palm to be seen, takes a slice from the tree with the first thud, then a chunk with the second, in a short time its swaying and the leaves are falling one by one, limbs are shaking making all sorts of loud wild cracking sounds, then came the oh mighty fall hitting the ground with an outmost raw the tremor can be felt more than just before

am i too far away from the finish line?
do u see me at night? i walk that very line
that dark, dark line.

i wanna lie with you
i wanna lose this.
street-walking? really?
is this really what its come to be?

right now, think, and be honest

do you think without the troubles
you wouldn't be who you are?
do you think without the love
time alone wouldn't seem so far?

how deep are your regrets?
are they things you won't forget?
would you change the past
just to lose the pain?
or would you carry on living
and never feel the same?

Out of the earth came sensational fire
Red hot glowing charred embers under me
Careful to walk in such fiery mire
Cautious about burns in the third degree

Standing still over the cauldron's hot edge
I watch smoke pilloring high overhead
Raising my arms to pray and make my pledge
What to do when I see the dragon's head

Enchanted lands beyond mythical lore
Keeping a child listenning in a trance
Imagination to brace oneself for
Mighty as St George with his golden lance

The fun and thrill of those bedtime stories
When chilverly was "Memento Mori"