Super Poetic Poems

All Rights Reserved ©

Summary

Welcome to my collection of poems, a journey through the words of my younger (and now older) self. These poems were made between the ages of 9 and 17, and while I may cringe at them now, they hold a special place in my heart. Please be aware that most of these poems touch on sensitive and triggering subjects. I provided trigger warnings at the start of each poem that may require it (TW's will be in bold). Your feedback would be very appreciated. If you believe I should add more trigger warnings, please don't hesitate to comment and let me know. I'll make updates as soon as I'm able. Feel free to use these poems as inspiration, but kindly refrain from using them without permission. Thanks!

Status
Ongoing
Chapters
6
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
18+

The Past is a Beast

TW!!! Graphic imagery, mentions of trauma and emotional distress.




The past keeps coming back to haunt me and every new thing I try reminds me that I failed


The past comes back like an echo, an endless stream of what ifs, could haves, shoulders shrugged off and forgotten about.


The past keeps coming back like a ghost, stalking me and watching me, waiting for its chance to pounce. The past is a hungry beast, it wants to eat me.


I have to run from the past because I can't let go of the past


the past is too strong. The past haunts me like a specter. It won't let me live.


It will catch up with me one way or another. It always catches up, eventually.


The past will come back with an appetite, and then I am done for.


The past will devour my heart and soul and then it will be too late for me to run


The past will swallow me whole


It will consume me like an infection, a parasitic disease,


a monster that lives inside me, consuming me from the inside out.


No matter how long I run, the past always finds me. It never gives up.


Never lets me get away. It'll keep on chasing me, no matter where I go, until I give into the fear.


Until I surrender to the fear, the memories. The nightmares and the flashbacks.


The past haunts you, even when you want to forget.


The past has claws, it digs deep into your skin


And you bleed, slowly, slowly. You bleed from your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth.


The past is relentless, it never sleeps, and it never stops, even though you're trying to.


No matter how hard you fight and scream and cry


You will always bleed, slowly, slowly.