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New Box of Old Feels

Happy Poems About Bad Things

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I've been writing a lot of poetry recently as a way to deal with things that I can't wrap my head around. I enjoy it greatly as a therapeutic tool. They aren't particularly good but I thought I'd share a few that I like. Cheers.

Your Smile Makes Me Sick

A touch,
A smile,
you cast the iron.

Hot it burns the flesh.

Scissors slide
through angelís skin.
Donít wear it as your own.

Flow freely
you donít believe,
tongue caught up in knots.

Iíve not glimpsed
your face,
in all this time.

Your smile is on too tight.

The Boy's Bones Are Wearing a Suit

He is sixteen years old
in the body of adam.
There is no shame
in the laughing child.

Then his oaks die falling
leaves hit the ground.
Their blood was the same
but now itís only his.

That boy dies with blackened
glass in hand and smirk
upon his lips.
What will fill the void?

Heíd like to think napoleon
or perhaps a reigning king.
But the boy is dead and all he has
is the blood they gave him first.

He puts a crown around his neck
pretends the spikes donít sting.
Gets in his box and fights
the good fight
yet feels like no one won.

Maybe this is what
the stars promised
Young boy.
When he asked why.

Itís not so grand as human
invention or will to live.
Itís not a greedy dragon
guarding coals of gold.
Itís not a lonely princess
waiting for her king.
Itís not a mystic sword
waiting for the chosen.
Itís just the box and him
paying for the food
and maybe itís enough
now the boy is dead.

Burning Sunrise

I want to see
a sunrise.
Indifferent rot
never ends.

When I can breathe
a sunrise
those winds blow false.
It burns.

Each day should have
a sunrise
we take shelter
in warmth.

I show them all
my sunrise.
they squint and cry
it burns.

Love you to Death

I cherish
your putrid soul.
Ghastly you smile
reap my heart.

Disease caught
on rancid tongue.
tastes so sour.

Heart to heart,
on bed of bones,
I eat your brain,
and love you.

Happy grave,
Iím weaving worms,
leafy wreaths on
your pale neck.

Weíll cuddle
forever in here.
Know I'm with you,
go to sleep.


  1. Buh4Bee's Avatar
    I liked the last poem. That is how it should feel every night when you go to bed.
  2. Grit's Avatar
    Thanks Bee. Appreciate it.