Sadness Poems (1,687)

Where shall I go
How will I know
Where is the place I'm alive

Where do I roam
Where is my home
When will I arrive

Where are my friends
Where does the music blend
Where are the tears that let me know I can cry

Where is destiny without a sign
Where is hope without someone who is kind
And who knows where am I

It was a long way to nowhere
As I traveled on the trail of years
It wasn't much of a road map
That got me here

And now my conversations are the ones I write down
Maybe if I had been an Indian I could be on a reservation
But as it is I'm nowhere and that is where
People are lost and never found

Being here is forever waving goodbye
I could let my imagination lift me to a cloud up high
And sad it would be waking up to see I'm down
To nowhere and that's where people are lost and never found

Laura Laura
What do you see
Evil monster staring at me
Feels like I’m being washed out to sea

Laura Laura
Why so sad?
I gave to you my heart
Now it’s nowhere
Never to be found.

Laura Laura
How could this be
You tricked me
I gave to you my soul
With a smile you stole

Laura Laura
Why do you cry
You filled me with nothing but lies
Left me dying inside

Laura Laura
What do you need
Someone to feed my soul
It’s now so cold
Nothing you would want to hold.

Be with me through my tears
Stay close to me when I fear
That nothing good can ever happen.
Wipe away my pain
When noone else can think
Or imagine of my sufferin.
Help me bury all d insults,sarcasm, and taunts
Which others bestow upon me
Deep in d layers of my skin.
Help me understand myself more
Specially my thoughts,actions, and dreams
Which give people the impression
That i am a person full of attitude,demand and other shit.
If i can't be helped from my own thread of thoughts
If i can't be held whn i am broken like a glass
If i can't be saved when i am troubled
Then my disappearance
My insanity
My death
Shall all be a part of gods plan or mayb fate and destiny,
Wanting me to meet and imprint
Some happy,sad,harsh memories in people's lives.

It's beginning to look a lot like EMO, everywhere you go
Tis the season for crying
the season for lying
on yer bed, alone

It's beginning to look a lot like EMO, everywhere you go
suicide's not an option
just wait, yer adoption
to a tribe's, in tow

© October 15, 2018, L. Karriem

Seasons of anguish in rhythmic rotation...
Meticulously taking their time...
Summers of sadness...
Winters of madness...
Thoroughly mine...

Like the inner-workings of a complex clock...
Gears of misery, memory blocked...
Autumn emotions...
Springtime erosions...
Raindrops of pain refusing to stop....

Wolves are predators. The wolves that I'm talking about, don't feed on small animals, but on human emotions. They find their soft spots, then they attack it. These animals prey on the young, the old, the naive, and the ignorant, the weak and the strong, no one's really safe from these animals. These animals tell us what we want to hear, they feed on our feelings like parasites and after they get into your system, your personality starts to change, you become short tempered, hateful, spiteful, vengeful, you start becoming a mirror image of this parasite, and the more this parasite drains you, you'll find yourself hurting the people who really care about you, like yelling at your children more often than you normally do, or thinking' that the world has turned on ya, in fact, you're the one who's changed. Me I know a wolf when I see one, I've been a quiet person most of my life, watching and observing and understanding peoples behaviors, I've been watching these animals for a long time in our society as well as many others, far as I'm concerned these animals should be shot on site, but unfortunately we can't hunt wolves in a America, it's illegal. So start building bigger fences and keep the wolves at bay. It's funny, cause when I look at our animal kingdom, I don't see them doing this to each other. So I ask you, who are the real animals?

I rise at six; say a prayer, check my phone,
Go to the kitchen for my fifteen minutes alone,
Drink my first cup of coffee and practice my smile
And pray for the strength to act docile.
"In the children's presence at least dear Father."
Spine straight, head up and smile on Heather.

Eight-thirty I walk through office doors head held high.
Smile in place, game face on and fighting the urge to sigh.
Appropriate greetings, smile, smile and wave.
Trisha, Andy, Mike, Samantha and even that creep Dave.
" Just another day, another act for the almighty dollar."
Man does Amy ever breaks her collar.

Five I shut my computer down and grab my pocket book.
Home I go to prepare dinner; good wives always cook.
A smile on my face I greet the kids and listen to their tales.
He got an A and she got homework about blue whales.
"Please make him be late, dear God I will take any excuse today."
His car is driving up I noted with dismay.

Ten the house is quiet finally but i can't mistake that for peace.
That I will get when mine, his or both heartbeat cease.
Matrimonial duties are the worse these days.
I avoid them in some unconventional ways.
"Forgive me Father for I am about to sin."
My headache will hit as soon as he walks in.

Tomorrow is a new start or that is what I was taught.
Will I get a new start out of this web in which I'm caught.
I hope so was my last thought before sleep came.
My last feeling though was on of intense shame.
"Father forgive me for I have sinned once more."
I moaned loud and hard as he opens the door.

Ceremonial serums reconstruct sickness,
Syrups deconstruct what is stuck...
Powerful potions relieve with a quickness,
Liquids laced with bad luck...

Syrupy spirits so sourly sweet,
Relief with no substitute known...
Elixirs, consistors of poisonous treats,
Belief in my syrup syndrome.....

Don't you think it's unfair he is all alone
After reading all his poems of love
There should be a girl somewhere in this world
Who would want him and his poems of love

He's been writing such a long time
And it seems to no avail
Without the right girl beside him
He feels like he's been spending his life in jail

So what is he to do
He really wish he knew
Loneliness is so hard to rise above
And where is she the one who needs to read his poems of love