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Aquila Mar 2019
I bought a bag, today
it is rectangular
I had forgotten about
the time you made fun of them,
and as I checked out,
I remembered.

I cried.

she looks like you.
i miss her so bad
yana Mar 2019
i said i wanted to write about you
but now i can't find my words
i'm angry and upset and lost
but i hope you're taking this harder than i am

you didn't do this for us
you did this for yourself
we could've made it work had you told me
i wasn't the only one thinking selfishly, so were you

i think i have a type
for people who find problems with me but tell me when it's too late to fix because they make reasons for problems that have yet to exist

i love you, i do
but i hope you're aching more right now
because you said everything like you were my whole world

you were

but that was for me to know and you to figure out yourself.
epicenter in
cadence hence
this joint
dissolve in
in musicals
and devour
much repertoire
with audience
now patron
as theatre
did establish
hits on
Broadway for
the season
and place
its shows
on location
a man in a wheelchair
Caitlin Ellis Mar 2019
Thief of words
Thief of mind
Is it envy?
Resonation?
Or is that poetry mine?
You mine and you dig at my future thoughts
Dig away at my throat till the language is lost
Tossed, torn, thrown aside
I lied
you cried , you're a tourist to my eyes
Shacked up in this place just somewhere to hide
Then I finally realised
They're yours to keep
Maybe to be a poet
I am just too weak
you're a thief of mind
Thief of soul
Carrier of mystery
Miner of gold
Float along now
With your shoulder strung sack
You're striped stealing suit
And your pen, jet black
Write the things I'm going to say
Cause they'll choke on my tongue or hit the hay anyway
Batrisyia Azman Mar 2019
This is nothing new,
It had occurred before,
Since I had known you,
You treat 'us' like a chore.

Your knight in shining armor,
Who you so desperately chase,
He is merely a charmer,
Will leave, your efforts gone to waste.

Your insincere, shallow friends,
Whom you had allowed to purloin my place,
Will leave you as the day ends,
Emptiness shall consume your smiling face.

Shutting your eyes to live in a dream,
Shutting my eyes to let tears dry,
The superficial not as it seems,
You cheer, as I silently cry.
Stephan Mar 2019
My story starts the same as all stories
With the birth of a child
The embodiment of innocence
Quick to laugh with no malice in my heart
An easy smile and a twinkle in my eyes
Since I wasn't born or raised in a tower
Since I wasn't locked away from the world
I looked, I saw and I changed.


The twinkle dimmed down
As I became a shadow of who I was
The smiles became fewer and far between
As my identity slipped away, replaced by masks
Masks forced onto me so I can fit in
To make my place in society I had to make personas
Different people living in the same body
So many that I lost the original and it is for the best
The small child I was wouldn't survive in this world
So I immerse myself in my act and keep up the faces
I switch through them daily, all for acceptance
Acceptance from a people who like me live behind masks
Weaved according to the people they want to be
Identities put together from subtly imitating others
It may be something small like the handwriting or speech pattern
Or the way of walking or even the accent
It is done subconsciously and we give it no thought
As we assemble different traits to create our person
We paint our image to resemble that of another
Who himself is painted according to another
A vicious cycle of mimickery and falsehood
Just another day under the Sun.


My heart is now an empty husk of broken pieces
A collection of shattered parts
Stuck together by the force of my will
I was told it would never lead me astray
And I followed it to my doom
I grew to hopes of true love
And dreams of being a knight in shining armor
So I was quick to give my heart
And I paid for my ignorance
With restless nights and dull days
With sweat, tears and pain
I got my due
So I did what anyone would do
I changed
Gone was the big heart full of illusions
In its place a stone wall
Raised from the bricks you threw at me
I took the ache and used it to cloud my face with indifference
As a last resort and as my final defense
Behind which lies a shell
And now I ask myself why I didn't follow the code
A code instilled in every boy and man
You see, I was raised in a happy home
I saw the look in my parents eyes and I believed
But as I grew I was told emotions are weakness
And love is non-existent
That a man's tears should never fall
So never give them a chance to
And that life may leave but pride is all
And this was the code
Yet I still believed
I stripped down of it all
Even the pride that I struggle to keep
And I look back on it as I weep
I guess heartless would have been the better way to be.


My laughter disappeared as the smile left my face
My joy turned to cynicism
I speak in harsh tones due to the snark in my voice
I became a resentful creature
And I blame the world for my waste.


My innocence dragged down to oblivion
By the weight of my sins
My mistakes hold me back like chains on my shins
I am shackled by regrets
They're the cuffs on my wrists
And when my time comes to be a father
I will bend my knees and look to the skies
And beg the Lord to have pity on my son
May he not suffer his wrath for the sins of his Dad
May he survive the ways of man
May he hold his head high and stand against the world
May he love, may he weep, may he laugh, may he live
May he find joy, may he beat sin
There is no atonement for me but there is a chance for him
And when I lay on my death bed I will spare a glance to the past
And grieve for the child I was and the man I have become
And when Death knocks on my door and whispers in my ear
"We are going to Hell; you're coming with me"
I will look into his eyes with a smile and ask
"When do we leave?"
Mel Williams Mar 2019
"Don't you know?
Poetry ain't my thunder today,"
I tell them.
It ain't my muse.
It doesn't fill me with sounds and suppositions and beautiful, beautiful melancholy today,
No.
No,
It hurts me.
Stabs me,
No,
Rolls me like dough in it's
maleable, hardened hands.
You
Are weak.
I
Am strong,
It says.
It snears,
A lion lurking over it's rounded and bloodied prey.
No.
Poetry ain't my friend today,
Friend.
Poetry won't save me.

Not today.
Julian Mar 2019
11 p.m. shaky
"Please tell me what went wrong," I asked.
I never thought I'd get overlooked again.
Even when I've given my best, I still come second.
Truly it is hard to compete with desires and memories.
I laughed with tears, and then those tears turned to real sadness.
I've been let down before.
So why does it still hurt me as first love would?
Why does it hurt so much more than just the sting of a bee?

12 a.m. endure
"I can't keep doing this to you," you said.
I thought, "No!" almost immediately. "How dare you turn weak on me?"
What have I not done to be unable to deserve you, to keep you?
How is it possible for me to lose someone even when I've done everything I could to keep her?
How can I lose you over your interest in making me stop enduring?

1 a.m. nowhere
Silence.
You said almost nothing.
The sounds came mostly from tears escaping your eyes and me forming words, begging you to please stay.
I almost lost you there.
I remember it hurting so much.
I had to punch the wall next to me.
I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
Would you have given up on our next fight had I not brought this one up?
What would my feelings bring this time?
Shall I hide for good?

2 a.m. confession
"I did things and I don't know why."
I had to cover my mouth with pillows so you wouldn't hear me at my worst weep for pain.
The worst part was, deep down, I knew.
I felt it.
I felt your best-kept secrets before you even confessed to me.
I wanted to shout but who would listen to me?
I knew that I just had to keep trusting even if you have shot me a million times.
Truth is, I'd rather be hurting than be happy without you.
That's not happiness. Not to me anyway.
I don't even want to hurt you.
I just want you to love me.
Fully.
But I guess that is not meant for me now.

3 a.m. respite
"I love you."
I love you even if you bleed my heart out.
I will see this through.
The question isn't how much I love you but how much you're willing to do to see it through.
The answer to our problem isn't out there but here.
I wish you would realize just how happy I am with you and that these minor roadblocks are here to test your endurance.
How much are you willing to put me through?
The solution is not to give up.
Every day is a new chance and without asking for it, I've given you so many and I'm only asking for a little bit of chance to be loved in return.
Will you still love me even if my heart's in pieces already?
I promise nothing will be missing.
Do I need to hurt you to be unforgettable too?
Does my heart need to be in pieces before you start remembering about my feelings?
written in a paper a long time ago.
Ash Young Feb 2019
How do I explain

that sometimes, the night sky stops existing above my head and instead opens up like a gaping chasm in the bottom of my rib cage scraping my skin from the inside / i press my hand to my chest and for a flicker of a moment imagine ripping it open, watching inky black and Scarlett red pour out

that fear has found lodging in my larynx, trapping my words in a steel safe, my mind desperately works to puzzle out the code but it changes faster than I can input it / i raise my finger to my lips and imagine for a second what my words would look like if given physical form. blood blocks my airways and spills between the gaps of my teeth

that sadness circles around my wrists and fashions itself into a bracelet, locked and chafing, itching when the sadness grows and calling for relief/ i rub my wrists together and wear wristbands to distract the phantom feelings from the real ones.  It’s doesn’t take as much imagination as it should to picture how sadness looks when I pull it out of my skin

that exhaustion sits so heavily on my mind that it’s seeped down my spine and coated every vertibre with its tar-like embrace/ for a heartbeat i picture my gasoline-covered-bones burning like a sick science project

- How can I explain that oblivion lives in my chest and fear in my throat, sadness keeps me in cuffs and exhaustion cements my skeleton
How do I explain that these monsters have been so long with me that they’ve become friends of a sort. My very foundations rely on their presence and I don’t know yet how I could define myself without them
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