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Charlie Smith May 2015
April shower bring
May flowers, that's what
my mother used to say.

And that if lightening strikes,
please do not freight, for
the angles they do
rearrange.

But do not fall asleep ,
near where earwigs creep,
or they'll crawl right into you're
brain.

And don't be pushed around,
or sink to the ground,
when others speak of
cruel things.

Stand up and shout,
were others do doubt,
fight for what you
believe.

Be kind to yourself,
above anyone else,
for that is how you
succeed.
Just an experimental poem :)
Charlie Smith May 2015
I'm reaching out with open
sweaty palms stretching
towards a place in
which the world is not
imploding so I don't want
to dream forever
and happiness does not
seem such an odd thing.
And someday that place feels
to far to fathom
but someday it is just
an arms breath away,
Attainable if I just reach a little
further.
Personal poem :)
Charlie Smith May 2015
Now that you've left me
where am I supposed
to go.
The less of me there is
the more I feel at home.

So I build my house
on emptiness, the nothing
in my soul.
Chipping away the
pieces, and digging
my own hole.

There is a flight from deep
within, a rushing urge
to leave.
So I leave behind my
nothingness and rip my heart
from it's sleeve.
Charlie Smith May 2015
Last night, whilst I was sleeping,
my dreams were turned into
bubble gum rivers
cascading from my mind in
fruit winder waves, infecting
my body with
artificial fructose and
awakening my reverie
with a sweet
burning desire to
Go!
Do!
Live!
So I follow my instructions
and hop on this candy-covered
illusion and travel,
to a place where sugar can
sprout from my fingers and a
thick toffee sauce
can cloud my brain so I can't
hear the screams of paranoia
that come with
all beauty, and I delude
myself into thinking that
this is life.
Charlie Smith May 2015
The sounds that I hear
paint tapestry in my mind
My eyes, though they are closed
see everything,
Every motion, sings out
shouts to be heard
Nothing is missed
though to some
All sound seems din
and all noise simply
collides
to me
Each word
Each sound
is different
I follow
the conversations
Eavesdropping
in plain sight
once again
I go unnoticed
as I paint
this tapestry
Charlie Smith May 2015
Stop.
I can feel it.
It's coming back again.

The rolling wave of
self destruction
returns to shore
and I am once more
left with my own
dangerous mind, so
I scribble at paper
until it rips, ink
Staining my arms as I attempt to release
the wave back to sea
but the screams are too
loud and the urges
too strong to ignore
so i tear the paper
then silence.
I am ok for
now and my breath does
not reject my body,
and finally I can
tiptoe along the
calm shore but then
wait.

Stop.
I can feel it.
It's coming back again.
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