They Tell Me To Believe

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They tell me to believe.

To believe in someone I can't see.

I've tried to belive that he was there for me.

But it is so hard to ask someone for help an in return you get silence.

I hold on to whatever hope I have left that he's there for me.

For some, if they couldn't find him they had a friend.

Someone.

For me my only bestfriend was a blade that cut deep red rivers in my arms.


What is wrong with me?

Even when someone wants to help, I always end up pushing them away.

What is wrong with me?

Even when someone shows they care I hide behind a shell to scared to come out.


All I want is to be happy but when someone wants to make me happy I distance myself.

But then when they begin to walk away I reach out and say

"Wait where are you going? Can't you see my arms? All the red rivers?"

I cant only ask for help through my poerty.

People says "All you want is attention, thats why you cut. Not because your going through something." little do they know.

What I want is to be happy.

I know what I want.

Or at least.... I think I do.


Read what I write and you'lll understand.

You'll understand everything.

Even if I can't someone will!

They'll see what I need and they'll give it to me without trying to shove pills down my throat.


They tell me to believe.

They tell me to believe in things I acn't see nor can I understand them.

They tell me to love because that's what your suppose to do..

But what if I can't feel love?

What if I can't feel hope?

How do you expect me to keep believing?

You tell me not to harm myself.

But why?

The pain when the blade slices my skin is something I can feel.

I know it's real.


How dare you speak with me for less than an hour of our lives and you claim to know "whats wrong".

You prescribe me pills to make me "feel better"?!

Well guess what it's not working!

I'm still unhappy!


All these things pour from my heart, through my pen and onto paper.

These things will not pour from my heart through my voice into your ears.

So read my writting to know where my heart lies.

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9inety's picture

I've read all your poems

You write with much passion, but that said strong feelings do not make a poet ,creativity means to create something. I liked "from me to you" the best. It shows your true abilities, your true inner muse. I encourage you to write more and to read more poetry too.. It helps to hone that sharp edge that you possess, use the point of the pen to entertain and entice your readers to think.

Peace

Dylan


"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"

Dylan Eliot

S74rw4rd's picture

Far Too Harsh

Flower is a very young poet, just on the commencement of her writing experience.  The second and third phrases of the first sentence of your comment were unduly harsh and, in my opinion, inappropriate.  Most young poets start with feelings first, and create great things later.  I cite Eliot's and Stevens' juvenalia as proof of that.  For you to take it upon yourself to accentuate the negative says more about you than it does about Flower's poems.  She will learn the balance of strong feeling and creativity as she goes along. 

 

Frankly, I think the way you led off your comment implies a subtle bullying, and maybe---just maybe---a bit of condescension.  Lots of poets are like that, and Flower will meet them soon enough.  You need not hurry her along that path.  If you need an arena for bullying and condescension, come visit my stuff and take a swing.  We'll have a mighty fine time with that, I assure you.


Starward

S74rw4rd's picture

Excellent poem

Your very coy pen name led me here, but this poem was far more powerful than I was prepared for when I arrived.  I think you speak for many.  I felt much the same way when I was your age, although I did not injure myself (I am too afraid of pain to have done that).  My teen years were among the bleakest of my life.   I can assure you, it does get better.  I tibnk you have what I would call an old soul (I think I have one too), and old souls seem to be very uncomfortable with adolescence and early twenties.  But once past those obstacles, old souls become acclimated and, I think, commence upon an enjoyment that is not open to all people.  In a paradoxical way, what you are going through now is really going to help you later, and it will probably help you to help someone else.  I am speaking only from my own experience, and not offering a universal interpretation (I am, after all, a minor poet not a major philosopher). 


Starward

Flower's picture

Thank You :D This peom was

Thank You :D This peom was from my darker times in life.

I was so angry when I wrote this.

I was angry with my therapist and God.

Because everytime I felt myself slipping away he was never there to help me.

You know?

I have deffinitly gotten better.

I'm deffinitly happier.

My pen name I got from looking at pictures of pretty flowers.

Haha, But thank you for the encouragment :)


~Flower

S74rw4rd's picture

You're Welcome

I think you have a nascent talent that will blossom (no pun intended) and impress your readers as time continues on.  Being young, you are not expected to be as experienced as an older, established poet.  Don't worry about the balance betweens strong emotion and actually creativity.  That instinct will come as you continue to write, and you will find the balance that fits your writing on your own.  When I was a bit younger than you, a teacher made comments to me similar to the one from Dylan that I replied to above.  It shut me down for years.  I got a much later start on poetry (in college) than I would have had she been able to restrain her need to discourage.  And my first stuff was nothing but strong emotion.  But I learned from expressing it how to express it in measure and rhyme and, now at 56, I defy anyone to tell me I have not arrived.  Your own poetic instincts will guide you best, and your curiosity will lead you to poets (probably most of them dead) who will teach you to find the best voice, form, and measure of your poems.  Look to them.


Starward