Sad Poetry: SCARS


We all endure sadness. This is for the time when you just want to read sad poetry to connect and be well.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. – Khalil Gibran


There is a beauty to seeing the flesh split
A beauty in the gushing blood
A beauty in seeing the skin turn pissed red
The pain dancing on the veins
A peace in the calmness of the heart
The silence of the mind
A relief of the soul
There is a beauty of knowing no one can hurt me
A beauty in having the power to my own pain
A beauty to my magic words
Spilling as the wounds gush out violently
A beauty in seeing the angels in my eyes
When all I hear are demons in my ears
It is sad not to do in open
Sad that I keep the scars hidden
When they are beauty marks worth praise
Marks worthy of peasants' eyes, a curse to my charm
It is sad they are condemned
By the same people that cause them
They have mastered an art
An art of driving me where the demons crawl
I live in their shelter
They crawl at me, and when they do, I cut deeper

Who is Listening?

I stand on the bridge
Silently screaming
"Who is listening?"
"Who is listening?"
I look down at the calm waters
Why am I never that calm?
Why is there always a rage storm in my head?
Why can't I just sleep?
There is a calling from the waves
Silently pronouncing their love to me
Making my wish come true
Making me crave a kiss from them
Who is listening?
Who is there?

Also read: Emotions: A Poetry Collection


I am in a prison, I have no cell mates
It is a long hall in my mind
It is filled with televisions
It shows people spitting hate
A weird hate for me
And I cry
I cry till there are no more tears left
I scream and shout
Asking for them to stop
I rock myself, wondering when someone will finally hear me
I cry till I have no voice anymore
A red eye
Bags under my eyes
Frenzy hair
Running nose
I cry till I lose it
Lose my sanity
Wondering when death will come knocking
I am depressed
Depression is my prison
But in my country
Depression is a white man's disease that has no space in a Black man's life
I am in a prison
I shall never be granted parole

She sings out sad poetry, with a brave smile and dry tears. But inside, she has so many wounds that need healing…..


100 hours on the mirror
I want to look like Sarah
She has the perfect eyes
Silk hair
A glow in her hair
Perfect teeth, adorned with perfect lips
She is perfect
A good size of her bust
A great booty
She makes heads turn
100 hours on the mirror
I still look like me
Big dirty brown eyes
Curly, hard hair
With the standard, non-shiny teeth
With the smallest bust
And a large behind
I live in the shadows
I crave the wrong things
But my mind is too big to stop dreaming

When my true love existed

His smile still haunts me in my sleep
His eyes still shining like the sun
He skips through, happy like a child on sugar high
His spirits so high
He looks happy, happier than I remember
Happy before the pain hit him hard
His bald head haunts my dreams
The pain and sadness finally settling in his eyes
The last touch, last kiss
The last "I love you", the last time I saw his beautiful face
He was my true love
Before he cheated with death's lips
His eyes still haunt me in my sleep
Seeing them shine before the night fell on them

Tears come from the heart and not from the brain – Leornado da Vinci

Healing is hard, I know cause I have been on the road for so long. But the sadness won’t last forever, be strong. It isn’t always easy, but one day the sun will shine bright in your soul.


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