Category: poems

It starts out fine,
Just tryin to help yourself repair
From everything,
All because it makes you not care.

You start doing it more,
Everybody keeps asking why
And what you say is
“I just like the high

“I love the feeling,
The release of all my fears,
The calm in my mind
When everything disappears.

When time stands still,
And I stop caring about it all.
When my heartbeat slows,
And everything seems so small.

The chills that spin me around
As it runs through my veins.
And the shivers down my back
As it hits me like a hurricane.

I know you don’t understand,
And I know you think it’s strange,
I know it’s hard to watch,
But realize I’m not ready to change.”

As the years go by,
The addiction grows.
You’ve lost who you were,
All because this is what you chose.

You’re getting sad now
So you go pick up some new stuff,
Cuz the old stuff isn’t working,
And when you finally take that puff

Your life starts to play like a movie,
Your palms start sweating,
And your body starts shaking.
All you can do is start regretting.

Regretting all the choices you made,
All the people you hurt,
All the times you never listened,
Because you weren’t concerned.

Remembering all the their faces
As they begged you to quit,
As they heard you say you couldn’t,
And as you watched their hearts split.

Now you’re lying there cold and alone,
A lesson learned too late.
Hoping people remember the good in you,
And praying nobody seals the same fate.

Bio: My name is Summer Miller and this poem is meant to open the eyes of those struggling with addiction. This hits very close to home for me and I hope you all can take something from it.

Ego Sum Inferno

This is the end
in panic

as a yowl of hopelessness
what is wearing her name
and petroleum in veins is
beating up all those m&ms
of graphic deaths

but attachment what I can’t
Get rid off
is sin.
Beauty no longer exists.

Boiling water

Im feather like a peace on her linens
Almost as a kiss


The Dewberry

And it started same as a dream
In the middle of the happening
Sun mixed with colors
Into the picture from witch
She stepped out

In someone who knew her,
She would trigger madness of jealousy
Because she was so beautiful, pure,
The cutest


Come back

That silence
In the flower before blossom
Like a vault of your mother ribs
It’s so safe
I know your lips!:
They’re pillows filled with heaven!
For one kiss?


Black pepper

Etc. Book or tone

In the night
When sparks shoots through the rainbow glasses
And stroke cotton in clad color.
The true silhouette
(in elegant style)



Etc. Forest or rain

You live
and light in you
will melt all of your faces.
Be modest my friend
You don’t need too much.



Etc. wood and sand

Bouquet of laugh unshaven lost homes
so unknown
that envy melted desires
To see us with their eyes
More beautiful than
A Shoes in the showcase


Was I asking for it?
Was it due to me being genuinely friendly, but you mistook it for flirting?
Or was it because I wore a mini skirt?
You came onto me aggressively, ignoring my pleading.
Did you not stop to think of your mother or sister, and would not want them to experience the same kind of hurt?
Was I still asking for it when you looked in my eyes overtaking my body, while I cried?
When you finished I felt like I was torn apart, just like the shreds of my shirt.
Was I still asking for it, when you denied it all and said I lied?
The next day my mother noticed I was too quiet, my eyes rimmed red.
She asked if I was okay, all I could muster was a nod with my head.
Was I asking for it?

As women our voices have been taken away. We are often silenced by fear. But for those women that have had the courage to come forward, and brought forward their traumatic experiences back into the light, after being buried in the dark for so long, we thank you. We thank you for being a voice for not just yourself, but for the
numerous amount of women who are afraid to come forward. And for the women carrying their story with them in silence just know you are loved, you are cherished, and we stand with you in solidarity for you are not alone.
We deserve a voice.
We deserve to be heard.
We deserve justice.
Ladies, this one is for you

-a note from the author

You pick pieces out of me
Like you’re getting food out of the fridge
You get one thing
Close me
Put it back
Close me
But I don’t mind being an ice box for you
I can always survive the cold

Where did the birds go and can I come?
Now that the taste of summer lemons is gone.
Oh, Robin, Oh, Sparrow, Oh, Hummingbird, you
Take wing and leave this barren, southern plain
And me behind alone with no juleps.

The silence of early morning-deafening in your absence-
is all I have to walk with. Only left are my sweet dreams
of you and old, empty nests falling apart and drooping,
dropping piece by now brown piece onto the ground.
Browns and yellows and deep, burnt oranges is all.

Your winter cousins are more than welcome. It’s true.
To my divine hospitality; my love and affection
Come then tern, finch and owl, with no delay.
Sing your songs; please teach me the words
That I may harmonize with you on porches.

I, who am tethered to this inhospitable land,
Yearn to wear your wings. Then I could come and
Rush you back to me. I have no patience for seasons.
No need for this brutal change. So, I replay your songs

Out with your outrage, I say.
It is mis-placed.
You who care more for cloth
Than skin.
When the skin that we are in is
You are incensed with nonsense
And do not see that the clock ticks
Away our shared breath and sky.

Out with your outrage, I say,
When you will not give water
To a brother who thirsts
And you will
watch a young sister bleed
As our children disappear into thin air.
All the while baring your smile:
Painted on and eating
Your privilege on toast.

Out with your outrage, I say
For you turn deaf ears to
Screaming headlines of screaming
Men and women and
Boys and girls.
Slaughtered by a diseased system
That was by us but never for us
Yet flavored with our stolen
Drum beat.

Out with your outrage, I say,
It is plastic and does not breathe
The same air that I do.
For my air drips with peace
And although I carry a sword
It is my mind that will destroy you
Fierce calculations and righteous machinations
Condemning your pitch black

If I am but a flash
In your cold, dark winter’s night,
Then let me be a flash of purest light
To guide your footsteps through the ages.

Were I simply a face in a crowded dream
Please, wake not to find Delilah
But let me launch a thousand ships
To end the war that love began.

Should we have just one more song
But the singers forget the words
Then let me sing a duet with you
And carve the melody on your mind.

Would the gold ring be unfinished
Or the unwritten vow never said
Then let me be indigo to your white silk
And warm your meanest hours.

If . . .

A young girl sits on the floor of her living room, watching the news-

Flash another person, found dead in their bathtub, gun still in hand-

“Over the remote little girl” said her older brother “you’re too young to understand this-

Is the end of us Mathew, i don’t deserve the ridicule you-

“Are nothing, you don’t deserve to walk this world. Go kill yourself” said mommies boyfriend. hes mean-

ing to tell you that you’re gonna stay over at grandmas this weekend hun-

dred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three…. Ready or not here i come! i’m so glad grandma had stuff to do today-

Another person found dead in their bathtub by her daughter, gun still in hand-

In hand, 100 persons found in the woods, all seemed to have drunk poison last night-

After night i can sleep, my girlfriend killed herself in that cult, they took her in when her mom died. i should of been there for her-

ts, yeah ill tell him its my head that hurts and not my heart. dad will give me some meds and ill over-

And over and over again, it dosent stop. Kids arent taught in school how to deal with things. People arent protected from themselves. Mental abuse is just as bad as physical. This isnt anything new. Tim Carter, he was a football player, he hanged himself. Iris Chang, she was a writer, gunshot wound to the head. Chris Kanyon, a wrestler, overdose on anti-depressants. John McLemor, a watchmaker, ingested potassium cyanide. Leelah Alcorn, a transgender teen, jumped in fromt of a car. No, it dosent stop, it gets worse. It becomes culture.

What if it all stopped
What if it all just went away
What if it was all just over
What if I never saw another day

Would people miss me
Or would I just be a memory
Would people come visit
Or would it take too much energy?

What if I never saw you again
What if you never saw me
What if I went away forever
What if it was a guarantee

Bio: My name is Summer Miller, I’m 19 going on 20 and someday I WILL be a writer.


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