#random poem

[writingprincessblog]

Assassin

(Warnings : none)

People call me a wanderer, But I am actually a murderer. I kill people as a job; they think I am soulless. The only word that describes me is reckless.

People are selfish, nosy and irritating. So, its my duty to stop their number growing. They hire me and offer a few million bobs, And I make sure to do a clean job. For that they call me merciless, ruthless, fearless. But the only thing that describes me is reckless.

-Aurora

= Masterlist =

[sxzxolee]

found this random poem i made 4months ago.

the night arrives in velvet silence, spilling ink across the edge of day, and teaching the world how to rest.

stars bloom like scattered thoughts of light, small promises pinned to endless dark, whispering that even distance can shine.

the moon watches it all unfold, a quiet keeper of drifting time, holding the night in its silver hands.

[theindiandewdrop]

Coping of a poet

Canvas painted with smudged ink?

So much to write but it all just stays in...

Till the eyes weep the last tear,

And every word that's etched on the paper finally smears.

And Every dissolved ink drop describes the chaos.

Maybe the smudge of the ink was exactly what killed the despair.

©️theindiandewdrop

12 april 2026

[halfeatencherry]

Poem i wrote.

I took alms from a hospital

Not becuase im cruel.

I took alms from a hospital

Tired of lunches of gruel.

I did not want to,

But i could see it in their eyes.

It wasnt just mercy they were giving

But a chance for me to bless the sick inside.

And they thought if they let me return,

Return empty handed,

I might curse them and yell hexes

To the death beds candled.

I could see it in their eyes

The tremor, the shake,

They were waiting for my words,

To soothe their hearts' wake.

I was god in the moment

My word a golden prophecy

Blessing them to return to health's home

The future being what i see.

They begged for health,

From a beggar himself.

So to appeal to karma

I handed my words like alms.

It was an equal exchange,

Though they didnt feel like it

They saved my life from starvation

And i saved a million sick lives.

Their health was all coins and nickels

Just what i did need,

I took money from death and sickness

To slow their demise's heed.

So, Yeah i did, take alms from a hospital

And it was all their fault.

How could i not when they made,

the beggar feel like a god.

[groundcontrolpoetry]

Poem: Gingerbread Man

In the summertime, I bake

a gingerbread man with a bow tie.

His smile is far too bright and wide,

with three eyes by mistake.

My gingerbread is out of season,

made far after the holidays.

He’s out of hand and out of date,

a Frankenstein without good reason.

Exposed to the warm sun by his creator, 

his gooey smile melts to a scowl,

an icing expression turned most foul;

I can’t control the weather.

My crispy treat is out of season,

near and dear to me when he was made

and in the pits of my stomach left to fade,

condemned to this fate without good reason.

j.p

[howisacrowlikeawritingdesk]

[meanslackofart]

can we just talk shit at night and forget about it the next morning? can we just lay in bed together and one of us leaves before the other one wakes up I know everyone does this but what I crave is far more than just physical intimacy I yearn for the love that doesn't suffocate me I yearn for the person who listens to me and let me be all the versions of me with them but until I find that love can we just talk shit?

-sg

(30/05/24 || 11:06 pm)

[annagxx]

A part of me dies everyday,

A part of me cries everyday,

A part of me lies everyday,

A part of me apart from me everyday.