You're angry, passive, a know-it-all, annoying,
Insecure, jealous, difficult,
I am your self-hate,
you are a bad person,
you shouldn't try and stand up for yourself,
or it will just worsen.
You're nicer if you let people walk all over u,
you kinda deserve it,
for all the times u made mistakes,
now look, was it worth it?
Ironically, I am your anger,
& everything you hate about yourself,
an emotion that despises itself,
there are good things and bad things about you,
but logic has gone,
& so the hate stays,
it goes on and on.
Concentrating on only bad and never the good,
I just never see it,
I know you wish I would.
I used to cry when a possession of mine broke,
I'd plead and ask for it not to be thrown out,
nothing else at the time would matter to me much,
just this broken bit of plastic (kid toys and as such).
One day when I was 17, something kind of changed.
It was Christmas day at the time and I had gifts of different range.
One of these presents was a cat shaped bottle of perfume,
I'd wanted it ever since I saw it a few years prior in a Top of the Pops magazine.
I was so happy I'd finally got it, kept taking it out of the box to look at -
A smart purple glass bottle which resembled the shape of a cat.
I was always careful whenever I placed it down,
for I didn't want it to fall and smash into tiny pieces on the ground.
I then wondered to myself, how I would feel if such a thing were to happen?
I thought I'd surely be sad and disappointed, but could always get a new one.
I thought of how I would feel if one of my real cats were to die,
I realised it would hurt much more & I'd just cry and cry.
I could always get a new cat,
but it just wouldn't be quite the same,
like with humans, all cats are different, and not just by name.
Suddenly I realised just how blind I'd been,
livings things are more important than some random luxury item.
(see update for the rest)
Even my favourite childhood toy, my mum would do the voice to,
I wasn't really bonding with a teddy, but rather my mum, Sue.
I conclude this poem now by giving some advice:
Don't be too upset if a luxury possession of yours should break,
for what's more important is living creatures,
you don't want to realise when it's too late.
Most Helpful Guy
It's a bit heavy on the emotions but seems like a genuine expression of yourself. I was never so much of a fan of poetry.
If I attempt one:
Shall I compare you to an anal breeze?
Your twat seems to be a biohazard.
I tried to go down but the demonic stench kept us apart.
The power of Christ compels you.
I placed my hand over my bum and squeezed.
A gentle and warm wind filled my hand,
so delicate and soft like a summer breeze.
The smell reminded me of you.1
Most Helpful Girl
while i normally prefer dark/sad poems (they're my favourites to write), i have to say that i liked your "nice" one better.1