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The one I Iove so very much
Her mind excites me
Her beauty outshines
I didn't know love could be so divine.
So unique and magical
Fulfilling all my dreams
Holding her in my arms
I made her a promise
That I'd always take care
My love is undeniable
Yet i do her such harm
I don't do anything that will make her heart sing
I'm lost in myself
Destructive and misguided
I'm not the someone she needs
Not healthy or strong
She needs things that I no longer provide
She sees the destruction of my mind
I steal her childhood
Day by day
Stuck in my own selfish needs
I made her a promise
That I did not keep
This will forever be what she remembers
Please
Please!
Don't end up like me.
I wrote this awhile back.
It feels raw and emotional.
She hurts herself, it's all she knows                                                            ­                                                                                              ­                                                   
the pain inside grows & grows                                                            ­           
                                                                ­                                                        
It runs too deep from head to toe                                                              ­      
                                                          ­                                                         
                                                                ­                                                
How do you stop the wind that blows?                                                           ­ 
                                                               ­                                                     
Self-inflicted wounds, no relief in sight                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                           
Light the fuse on the dynamite                                                         ­                                                                 ­                                  
                                                                ­                                                      
She scars herself, but can't release the knife                                                            ­                                                
                                                                ­                                                  
Can't see the sun, it's always night                                                            ­                                           
 She cries & cradles her legs with her arms                             
                
Knows the enemy who does the most harm                                                      
                                                                ­                                                          You'd think that would set off alarms                                                           ­   
                                                             ­                                                 
Can't someone save her with their charms?                                                          ­                                                      
          ­                                                                 ­                                       
  She has never known the feeling of love                                          
                  ­                                                                 ­                         
Noone has held her high enough                                                           ­ 
                                                               ­                                                       
Is there some way she can rise above                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                
  The self-destruction she's proof of
I wrote this in 2010, after a serious breakdown
Dianali Apr 10
Turns out,
I’m a talented repairman.
A messed-up wall?
I’ll fix that patch,
and find the perfect paint,
to colour-match.
A misunderstanding?
I’ll shape the perfect situation,
So It can be flawlessly justified.
Yes. I’m a great repairman.
Because after all—
I’m nothing,
but a destructive tenant,
In the flexible lease,
of your heart.
Once I was told there was no need to be that skilled in justifying anything if I did nothing wrong from the beginning. Hit me hard.
KarmaPolice Apr 8
Weeping man,  
all alone,  
reading text  
upon his phone.  

No eye contact,  
no face to face—  
her distant words  
lacking grace.  

Flowers dumped  
in public vase;  
intended ring  
reflects his face.  

He walks away  
to numb the pain,  
mixing bourbon  
and weak *******.  

To lap of love  
with plastic gold—  
a stranger’s flesh  
he needs to hold.  

Broken dreams,  
an empty bed;  
missing wallet,  
pounding head.  

Drunken walk,  
lacking grace,  
finding flowers  
in public vase.  

Weeping man,  
all alone,  
walks the street  
miles from home.  

By Darren Wall ©
Many flames set asunder,
Each lighting the bark.
Many flames get its owns thunder,
Cracking the infinite dark.

It reshapes what is,
It annihilates what’s his.
God brought the light,
Men sought its might.

Each words carry meaning,
Each word burns the same.
Smoke riles thy beseeching tongue,
Sparking their ignorant flames.

They get crazy,
The crazy man.
It can said it talks,
But they never listen,
Stifling humanity’s walk.

They burn knowledge,
The very light they ate.
God punished not action,
But the poison apple, devils bait.

For now, no innocence sets entropy,
For stupidly of ignorant fools flame society,
Killing humanity’s last flame.

And now, darkness breaches realm,
As embers churn in rage, rage,
Against the dying of the  light.
The last of humanity, the last blight.
Gods wrath, now late, seeks no sight.

I rest here,
Could hope reset my dead ember?
I know not of eternity.
But I know it can be.
I had inspirations of knowledge, and the ever fight against ignorance that put the very flame of power in our hands. I got inspiration to use part of Dylan Thomas’s poem, “Do not go gentle in that good night,” as the fight is ever present today, as it must so. “The Crazy Man” also fits here, too.
Jonathan Moya Mar 18
When the earth is no longer a womb,
just a shriek and whistle of once uttered prayer—
a long,
puncturing howl of everything
that was once you
turned into casualties of silence,
then you know
that death has arrived,
noiselessly,
silent as a missile.

All the clamor outside-
it’s the hibakujumoku,
(the survivor trees)
insisting on life
within the blast radius
of your heart.
Note:
In Japanese, the trees that survived the atomic bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki are called "hibakujumoku," which translates to "A-bombed trees" or "survivor trees" in English.
Lynn Mar 14
I built this house
Of glass with stone
I watch you break it with my bones
Kezexxe Mar 14
When I look into your eyes,
I see destruction and demise,
When I listen deep into your cries,
All I hear are lies.
neth jones Mar 12
untitled   we'd be better served
like the bulk of resting nature appears
with no obvious contortional vouch
or *******  of a species legend
[ version 3 10/03/25
original21/01/25
untitled  we'd be better served
like resting nature appears
with no obvious self reference ]
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