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Tiana Jan 2020
Look at the ocean
So gloomy and stressed
Look at humans
Who are ignorant of this;

Look at the life
Suffering in pain
The pain our actions gave
Everything to lose
But nothing to gain;
Planet or plastic?
Tony Tweedy Dec 2019
Every year ends in darkness and starts in darkness.
Why does that seem like a revelation?
How long was it that I hadn't noticed?
What kept that from me?
S I N Dec 2019
Gloomy, cloudy misty day,
Air suffused with silence fey,
Look is fixéd on the feet
Lest with dreamy eyes to meet
The glance of Darkness in a way
Of your windy path may stray
You on the stranded darkened beach
And fill you with a fever itch
To indicate the ghastly presence
Of extraterrestrial essence
Bonded with a world beyond
To which with tighten clasp he holds
To that of his; and not intends
To intervene with our mess
Robby Oct 2019
Maybe the sun will come out today
Maybe I’ll feel the warmth on my skin
Maybe my eyes won’t gloss over with tears from the light
Maybe I can go for a walk and just be happy
Maybe there is some hope left
Growly Wolfus Oct 2019
The darkness, an embodiment of my world, stretches are far as my heart's eye can see.  The sadness weighs on me like the depth of the ocean, the cold waters washing over me in waves.  And out there is nothing but the emptiness of my soul poured out onto the sky as stars.  The evil of the world paints its own constellations, devouring the other lights.  A lonely moon, almost as lonesome as myself, gazes at me with pity like all the others.
I had asked for an escape from the world of pain, of anger, of hatred.  The people would laugh at me, call me naive for wishing only happiness.  I had raised their heads when they were low, lifted their spirits when they were down; and now, they don't help, just stare at my discomfort.  Their judging eyes uncover the truth, the horrible truth reminding themselves of their sins.  They see me and turn away, like looking into a cursed mirror.
The cold wraps me like a blanket in the winter, though it is more a veil of thorns.  Creatures from the darkest corners of my mind, shadows in the shapes of the constellations, reach out to me from the gloomy water, the only ones to offer a hand.  I turn away from them in frustration.  Why hadn't anyone else come?  The light of the moon dances upon the waves as they greet me on the white beach shore.  The weight of my sadness disperses upon the island.  The trees and plants dissolve to ash and fly away on the once hibernating wind.  It lashes at me madly, furious by its awake from eternal slumber.
The island beneath my feet grows smaller; nothing but a patch of sand where I lie is left.  The sand, particles of my depression sticking to my blue skin grow darker, consuming my flesh, degrading my bones, eating me from the inside out.  The creatures cry out with silent voices.  I stare at the constellations.  Nothing good could come of the world I'm living in.  There is no warmth in this infinite night.  I lend a veiny hand to the monster next to me, and, like a swarm, the creatures **** me into the black ocean.
Forgotten, abandoned, I sink into the depths, the weight finally lifted from my shoulders.  Looking up at the world I will never return to, a light shines upon me, a single flittering ray through the dark water, disappearing as I slowly fall deeper.  Struck with emotion never felt before, the thorns of the cold feel less painful and a shudder runs through my bones.
My body feels light, no longer cold but not yet warm.  The light has gone, the darkness now carrying my frail body to the dwelling place of the creatures of the night.  Calmly, I watch the last of my breath's bubbles float towards the surface of the water as I fall neatly into a resting place.  My arms and legs settle into the soft sand as I slip into an endless sleep.
What is it called?  I had heard of it before.  The foreign feeling fills me and soothes my heart and soul.  Death closes my glazed eyes for me.
Ah.  I remember.  Peace.
More of a short story than a poem but it's my interpretation of sadness. What do you imagine it to be?
Tenant Aug 2019
I wrote a poem for you
Goodmorning sunrise blues
feeling today?
I'd rather not
Masked Voice Aug 2019
Wish we could fly high,
over to the paradise,
and make an ally.

Who would that be?
Birds, Planes, or Clouds?

Clouds would be our homes,
in gleam and gloom.
Birds would sing to us,
at every phase of life.
Planes, do we
really need them, when we
have clouds to sail on?

Flying; sailing; ignoring the fears
and insecurities.
With the sun next door, and
rain in the soil of clouds,
It's such a beautiful day.

Lying down on the fluffy clouds,
We wonder,
if it is real, or a dream?

Under the bright sun and
the shimmering moon,
fighting for our attention.
We forget how the real world felt.

Amongst the thunders,
we sail through the challenges.
The adventures
experienced everyday tell us
that we aren't ghosts,
but humans who feel.
The tough sails remind us,
that we have each other.

That smile when we see an
island to rest,
Is so immaculate and real.
We fell in love with this surreal dream
Of clouds, of life and of sailing.
Holding on to how it felt,
was the promise we made.
We woke and then,
we lived the dream.
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