Feeling Hurt Poems Novels & Stories

I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been Oh Oooh The way that things have been Oh Oooh Second things second, Don't you tell me what you thing that I can be I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea Oh Oooh The master of my sea Oh Oooh I was broken from a young age Taking my soul into the masses Writing my poems for the few That look at me, Took at me, Shook at me, Feel at me Singing from heart ache to the pain Taking my message from the pain Speaking my lessons from the brain Seeing the beauty through love .................................... "Mother, please! I didn't want to hurt her! I didn't cut her!" A little girl 8-year-old little girl cried, her eyes begging for

I gradually felt the dampness of my two cheeks and the blurring of my vision. I quickly left that scenario and went back up to my room. It hurts so much that it feels like my heart is being stabbed. I sobbed and collapsed on my bed. Oh God! Can I still do it? Why is he like that? Why does he hurt me so easily? I could hardly breathe from crying so much. I feel so devastated and hurt!

The bitterness seeps into my words, reflecting the deep hurt and betrayal I feel. I chugged the bottle of alcohol I'd ordered, each gulp burning down my throat as if it were the last time I'd ever drink. I couldn't wrap my head around why Isobel would so easily shatter my trust. The question gnawed at my heart, leaving me with no answers, only the raw pain of betrayal. There was a void inside me, a vast emptiness that caused me unbearable suffering.

Gutting. There's no answer in sight As his soul is stripped bare. Those blips of consciousness Catch me completely unaware. A wind through the weeds... And we all bleed. Tears stung my eyes as she hit a crescendo, let the note hang, stilling her fingers. A pain no one sees. To home, I will lead. And we all bleed. Oh, how I bleed.

“You hurt him for no reason!” Oliver’s expression didn’t change. But his silence said everything. And that silence… Broke something inside her. “I hate you,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “You’re disgusting.” For the first time… Those words actually hit him. Not like the others. Not like fear. Not like insults. This one stayed. Because it came from her. And for reasons he didn’t understand… That mattered. More than it should have.

The least he could do is explain what happened. I sat up feeling mad and hungry, I knew I would regret it later but my fingers are already stroking the keyboard, typing out my frustrations and the words that I've been meaning to write ever since I woke up. I typed out all the crappy lyrics pouring out of my soul and crying occasionally. I didn't even realise that my heart hurts so bad until I wrote it down in words, I imagined singers crying their heart out when they were writing break up songs. This doesn't feel any different. Mr Young hurt me badly when he disappeared but that hurt doesn't even come close to the time I had witnessed him kissing someone else.

Lillian Pov Pain. Everyone has their own definition of pain. Your small toe hitting a wood you didn’t see, your elbow hitting the floor or an iron. Downloading a movie and when there’s just 3 percent remaining to be downloaded, your internet connection disconnected or the pain when your family goes on a trip without you because you committed an offense. Those are all types of pain, but have you felt the type of pain when you are so hopeless and you feel the world has turned against you? The one when you're loved one’s turn their back against you and ignore you? The one when you are drowning in continuous pain and your heart beating loudly against your chest and you can’t do anything to stop

Diana continued insulting me. I lowered my head, taking their insults at me, my body trembling withstood their new blows. Hurting someone with words indeed hurts more than hurting them physically. If the physical wound can still be treated, but the hurt in the feeling is too difficult to heal, "I'm not a bum," I said, shaking. I hold back my tears from coming out.

But she didn’t need a date to remember when she’d written it. I don’t know who I am if I’m not surviving him. Maybe there isn’t a me anymore. Just bruises in different colors. Just a quiet shape no one wants to look at twice. It feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. It’s so late and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep and never wake up. The man who promised to love me and cherish me — he keeps hurting me. Again. Again.

How unworthy we have become. Deep down I felt bad, I felt hurt. Nobody liked me, I was sick in the head. Sick everywhere, socially sick, emotionally sick. I wasn’t even angry at anything; I was in pain. The pai n was too much and it felt like my heart had been plastered over. Like a hole had been drilled in my heart and it was bleeding.