self-worth

Learn more about other poetry terms

I used to think that it was all about externalities, Do anything to fit in and don't get mama mad at me,  It didn't matter how I felt only how other people felt about me,
I remember giving a bracelet to one of my babysitter's when I was young. I made it out of my mother's yarn.
Sitting next to my peers, Who have consistently filled my eyes with tears, Is a painful exposition into the realm of self-hate. I’m constantly thinking: “I deserve this, right?”
Here’s my two-weeks notice: I’m quitting our friendship. I’ve been killing myself For your approval Far too long.
Feel Free to Fail Me Because my life should be worth more than a letter on a page Feel Free To Fail Me Because my name shouldn't be worth more than who I am My name on a list My name on a degree
Can it be changed? mended? altered? no.Do i worry? bite? tap?yes.Feel miserable? uninterested? Still?yes. But why do I do this?But why do I waste my energy being sad, mad, uncomfortable, upset?
That's what it means To concede to the fear, To feed the bearer, To bleed from the wounds, bestowed on you from the pain you've taken even the words you've spoken to make it all better 
Sometimes life isn't fair and sometimes life isn't sweet. My shiny head makes people stare as I walk alone down the street. No, you can't touch, don't you dare. It's a sensitive topic, so I cover up with a sheet.
dear depression you began as a childhood friend who saw the young children teasing me for my skin, my thick hair, and my mother.the woman who left her beautiful country,walk endlessly through the desert with only blessings and prayers.you depressi
Thank you for this life A life where shadows sing Where losses are seen as gains Where I can have a vision for everything   Thank you for this life A life where notes can speak
I was the shattered glass laying on the floor, until you swept me up and built me into something more. I was a hole in the knee of your favorite blue jeans,  and you stitched me up along the seams.
I was the shattered glass laying on the floor, until you swept me up and built me into something more. I was a hole in the knee of your favorite blue jeans,  and you stitched me up along the seams.
Next time I look in the mirror, I’m just gonna try to see me Not some superficial image of who they want me to be. If my eyes are deep dark brown, that’s what my momma gave me If my lips are kind of full, well
You are beautiful. Death has covered you in a halo, like a saint.  
we are people, not objects or products, not apologies or excusesoften dehumanized and abused, as if we are not your sisters, mothers and daughtersmen have the audacity to mistreat
If I share my mind, will that be of higher value than my body? If I share my words, my thoughts, fears, passions,  will that be of higher value than my kisses, my hugs, touches, caressing hands?
to the one whom gravity holds tightest to,   you're an aging collection of thin skin and heavy bones known by a name  passed through the lips of few   with ribs housing
Back then, first gen, It was a lot easier when Mom and dad used to love each other since then Fights happen, physical actions Again and again  
My words are locked inside of me. It is rude to talk to oneself in public, so I refrain from doing it. But... My tongue is twisting itself, trying to part my lips.
I saw you Don't pretend like you didn't notice We made eye contact You swallowed I watched your Adam's apple rise and fall As nervousness formed pools over your pupils
All this education,  and we were never taught to love ourselves. Our knowledge was, instead, forced to be something else.  Created in classrooms, within white walls.
Who am I? I still don't know I've got a lot to learn And a long way to go There is so much to do So much to explore And one day i'll know What I came here for I've been looking
Sometimes when I'm feeling down or blue, all I really need is you. A hug and embrace makes me feel like I have place. Hopeless feelings deep inside, but with you, I'm built back up and restored with pride.
It's okay to take a break.  It's okay to take a breath; inhale and exhale. 
You're the sun rising in the morning,The fresh blanket of dew covering a shivering field of grass,The wind flying through the scene as time washes away just the same,  
Words slapped me in the face With their crimson fury Without hesitation I let them envelop me Watering myself in a shower of emotion
She always kept to herself She stood in her head Not once did she ever think about  Letting anyone else in Until he came around  He held out a hand She had never seen such a gesture 
PURPOSE.   WHEN IT DISAPPEARS IT DRIVES YOU INTO WINDING, DARK ROADS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. THEN SLYLY WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR TO MAKE YOU THINK EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT.  
I-I-I-…, 2013, by Unknown Pressure in canvas, Sweat on skin   I sat in my classroom for what felt like days
He pours scalding water over your wounds boiling you from the outside in.  His words are poison soap grating off layers of the world
Don't give up, it get's better. Don't let those eyes get any wetter. Don't beat yourself up or tear yourself down. Don't give the world its saddest sound. Don't let your mind lose itself.
There are others like me, So many others to this collective "we". Our stories may vary, The past are damn well scary. Some of us have been beaten and abused, Others are ostracized and accused.
 I am Clay And though all clay starts the same: Muddy, shapeless, lame, From the ground I have been formed into Me.   I always wanted to be happy So I changed my shape sometimes
I watched the darkness; dissolving, morphing, quickly receding from the fruity light, as if rejected medicine.   Left behind for an identical,
I AM
the gift inside of me is more valuable, more precious than golden nugget chunks found beneath Earth's rocky skin. it is much more beautiful than glittering diamond fractals, reflecting beams of light
Haiku Stories, Volume 1: Undervalued   I can hear their words They fight loudly, then play nice This is my family   I can see his face
You're no ordinary girl, you are an extrodinary boy. You're special because you're different. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. They are each common errors.
Swimming in the anger, drowning in the sin. Its been so long, how long has it been?   You left abruptly with no trace on your lips, Of remorse for the pain, and your angry countenance. 
I wear my scars like a badge of honor.
I have scars from head to toe and burn marks to spare,
Do you ever just have one of those days where   you wake up and nothing seems right? One of those days where you look down the hall and someone has turned off the lights?  
Who am I? That is the question... I walk around, in a ghost town, in a world were I feel unheard, "Nobody is perfect" is what I hear, yet we all strive for perfectiion.
Who Am I... I am hopes and dreams The visions of things That people wish to see But may never be Because everyone wants, but no one tries And with no effort, all hope dies
My mirror of motivation, Stares back at me daily. Sometimes it smiles and sometimes it cries, But within it's glassy walls lives a woman who  Is nothing but a bag of dreams and anxious success.
I put on the cap and the uniform To please the people that give me money. I follow their rules with a synthetic smile To appease the ones I work for.   I complete the caustic piles of work
You know what scares me... a Blank page It opens up the realm of unspeakable possibility And the unknowing of what may lie ahead is the worst of it all Will I ever experience true creativity
Dear Mr. Lightning-storm-robotic-emotion-manic-stupid-face.   Sorry, scratch that. Dear you,   When I first met you, you were like a lightning bolt. Really bright and really powerful.
Numbers and sizes do not can not define you. They could never show a beautiful heart, soul, or mind. Stretch marks, acne, or birthmarks can’t show the type of person you are.
The chocolate skin that I live in has seen torment and pain... with these milk chocolate eyes, like hershey syrup when it rains
Don't look at me with hope.Don’t look at me with the shine of foreveror the gloss of happily ever after’s.Don’t touch me with the ghost of your lipsor the whisper of your fingertips.Not with the gasps
Not selling crack, but I deal.   No feeling ever again will feel so real. Keep searching for it, but in vain, tryna get the same high as the first time.  
Some people call me crazy,  I say I am a dreamer. Some people say I am cold, I say I am strong. They say I have a short temper, I say I take a stand.  Some people call me conceited, 
  I approach poetry as a teenager approaching the first date, as a 12th grader approaching the SATs, as a spelling bee-er approaching a word she's never known
I write because I am free to DREAM, I can be no one else but ME, it helps me to ESCAPE from REALITY. I am a DEEPER REFLECTION OF ME.   I write what I FEEL, too afraid to SPEAK UP ON WHAT IS REAL,
  By Chanda Bynum   I see this girl And she is a girl with straightforward eyes and blank expressions. The Maker has sculpted curvaceous hips and thighs into her gene pool
I am at the crossroadsI see what I can be and what I would have to do.But I am scared, only I can decide what I can do,And if I fail it is only myself to blame.
  There are some things about me that I can't change There are things about me that are just too strange I've got thoughts in my head I hate giving acknowledgement
I feel like I'm loosing it all My life has no guarantee The stress is always tearing me down And the angst is always getting to me
Deception starts with us It paints a picture of inadequacy We are convinced of what we are not Pertaining to excellence, intelligence, or beauty The worthlessness we feel We can’t bear to let others see
I dont know why, Why I want to cry, Why my soul wants to die, Why my hopes and dreams turn into lies. Can someone please tell me, Because I feel like I'm not good enough But what is 'good enough'?
Subscribe to self-worth