Most Liked Sadness Poems (1,688)

Dream
medicine for the soul
oblivion.
Dream
colorful fairy tale,
with a happy ending.
Dream
cyclical phase
REM.
Dream
desire and realism
eternal struggle.
Dream
so why me
accompanied
nightmare?

Its the terror of the empty pages
and it all backs up
backs up like reams of emptiness
until all you can do
is lie and listen
to a city of bums
in the night
burying themselves
in their trashcan distractions

The feeling
Familiar

Our life
Part of us

This can’t be

Break free
A man I am, inner me

Ultimately foresee
In him I seek closure from tyranny

Louder than before
Standing tall no more

Words fall
Hear whisper call

Before there was stress there was being young
Before there was stress there was being alive
Before there was stress I was me
Now I'm just someone trying to survive

Before there was stress there was a view
Before there was stress the colors adjusted their hue
And I could see for miles and miles
Before there was stress I had lots of style

Before there was stress the curtains were never drawn
And the days went on and on
Before there was stress I had the comfort of time
Before there was stress everyday was always mine

The night the bard of Stratford died
Ye olden days to which we yearn
now to whom this may concern
those river parts before the sea
are usually taken by degree
a flood can hardly be contained
with darkest sun, and moon that waned
she flew along to meet the tide
the night the bard of Stratford died

The night the bard of Stratford died
the sky turned ugly, open wide
animals hid inside their barns
taverns reeled with horrid yarns
and down upon the cobbled road
the beasts that struggled with their load
said to natures law we must abide
the night the bard of Stratford died

The night the bard of Stratford died
a court was formed, the innocent tried
a priest was called into the room
butcher, baker, bride and groom
and on the morrow we shall see
the tailor make a guilty plea
the judge determined a soldier lied
the night the bard of Stratford died

It was Dallas, Texas,
San Antone, or Idaho,
Maybe in New Mexico,
I don't know...,
Some time ago...,
I met a leather man out on the road,
Crease and fold,
Bent and old,
Had the saddest story ever told,
Chill your soul,
Cut the bone,
He said "I been on a roll,
On the road,
I been on a roll for so long,
It's so wrong...,
He said "What's left of me is cold,
Bought and sold,
Had no one to hold for so long,
It's so wrong...",
He said "No place feels like home,
No, No place feels like home...,
No place has felt like home for so long",
Saddest story ever told...,
"This path is one I chose",
On he goes,
"Up and down the oceans coast,
On a boat,
With nothing of my own,
All alone,
In Alaska where its cold,
With freezing snows,
Spent some time in Mexico,
Way down below,
But no matter where I go,
I know that everywhere I roam,
No place feels like home...,
Something's always off,
Drifter move along,
Black sheep of the fold..."
The man had the saddest story ever told.

Solve me do you dare,
an abyss of turmoil, do I scare?
Come feel, if you see
with eyes and heart, if thine be.
Survive I do,
with hope of life looking, looking but for who.
Need dissolves,
years and tears flows.
Surrounded, alone, wandering soul,
find me, stay my fall.

You say you'll never find fortune never have fame
And you're getting too old for world acclaim
If money fell from the sky but you know that's a lie
What all tomorrows bring not everyone can be king

As you are dreaming of the ocean waves
There are peasants and there are slaves
The rich know the living
The poor only know to wait for their graves

Farewell fair maiden you're out of view by now
Some bells are silent why don't they ring
There must be a reason
Not everyone can be king

In a different direction his journey is far
Along the way he find rest by a stream
As the ripples whisper they lull him to dream
And he awakes to the reflection not everyone can be king

There was old prospector he rode everywhere
Searching for gold he could never find
Until one day when he met her
And the gold in her heart made him go blind

But he was too late
And so much for fate
He rode away so sad
Thinking of all the gold he could never have

Disappearing into the sunset
And under the stars he sat by a campfire alone
The old prospector on his knees he wept
Praying to God and knowing all the gold was gone

In the middle of nowhere
Seldom seen seldom heard
There lived a man known as me

He wrote a little poetry sang songs to himself
He had a lot of old memories but no one to share with
So in the library of his mind they stayed on a shelf

He never had a break through to overcome and stand proud
Jus a few introductions no need to be the man known as me
Was never even painted in a crowd

There's a two lane highway if there you should ever be
In which direction seldom seen seldom heard
There lived a man known as me