Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Akash mazumdar Oct 2017
Oh you came while am sad,
It's beautiful ; first lemme love you back ,
It's okay you don't have to be sorry about it ,
I'll be all right,
Lighting up candles in the room full of darkness of sin ,
You say what you how was your day ,
Sit down talk me you'll feel better for sure ; what you say ,
No am not lying does it look like I am,
May be because there are hundreds of things going underneath this warm man,
Have you heard about that fact ,
The person who keeps his feelings personal priorities at last ,
One who lands up getting everything messed up ,
Got devastated from inside & lands up ******* the roof of rust ,
And get the infection which is a slow poison,
Aah leave it you will be bored ;why is it so cold here ,
What is it ohh; it's the winter season .
Skyler M Oct 2017
Taken two steps,

One.

Two.

Carved two blades,

One.

Two.

Killed two men,

One.

And two.

Two drops o' blood,

One.

Two.

Two eyes pop onto the wood,

One.

Two.

Two screams, too many.

One.

Two.

My vision is blue and red.
Kyra Madeleine Oct 2017
my whole life
I've only ever been
someone's bad habit. 

like stealing drags
behind the library,
or biting broken nails
numb,
I became their drug in choosing.

pretty lips,
and a ***** secret;
a harrowing existence,
meets feverish addiction.

their idea of killing time
was killing me
and this is what I called love.

I guess I have a thing
for
       homicide.

-k.m.
don't waste your breath
telling me to get better, talk ***** to me
don't hold your breath
hoping i try to help myself.
if you're going to hold my neck
hold it a lot tighter than that,
don't forget to push down
on my windpipe with your palm,
we're wrapped up in these bedsheets
because i want you to hurt me.
i want to see the rope burn on my wrists glisten
where it's begun to tear away at my flesh
and i like to feel real tangible knots
when i'm ******* in self loathing.
i struggle to find the line between
lovesick and depressed or
being a *******. what's the big difference.
either way i wake up with bruised
blue lips and oxygen deprivation,
and fresh linens wet with singeing liquids,
and a pain in my stomach or lungs that means
i'm still breathing slightly.
i wanted you to **** me.
Mike Virgl Sep 2017
Propelled by what?
A forces driving
To cliffs edge
Thinking of something
He could never commit

However, sadly the mind
Breaks every now and then
To release a flood?
To retrieve releif?
Or to pass a test?

But we never get any answers

For after broken
The mind is gone
Orginal thought flies
Far from the mess
It enabled to prosper

Left we are
With the mans body
Hallowed out by attempt
His answers he speaks
Saying only one thing

"Never allow a series of events"
"To spiral to such a low as mine"
"To cliffs I conquerd"
"To chasms I fell"
"All for a red sunset"

No one had the heart to tell him
The sun does not shine at night...
Everythings darker in moonlight
You would gently manipulate her.
You would secretly use her.
You would have a strategy for her every move, a plan for anything she'd do.

Her weakness became your endeavor.
You dehydrated her soul.
You made her suffer just so that you could strive.
You were slowly killing her.

***** you mankind, ***** you.
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
From war to war torn
The countryside lay
Another boy worn
From the front lines

His head molded grass
Cold from the day
And that gray pass
Where many men die

His fathers sound
Thrown from rampart
Flung to the ground
By gunpowder

"Father how could you?"
The lame echo
Fell in lieu to
Another shot

Yet across the sea
Past no mans land
A body left be
By loving hands

Hole in an old head
Red mixed with green
A piece of lead
Found its owner

The boys weakened flame
Died by old hands
Gripping the same
Righteous, gray gun

That gun is buried
Beside that man
The last bullet
Killed the killer

Yet where is the blame?
On one or both?
They died the same
With fatherly love
Basically I had this idea from the really disgusting concept of when in a very desperate situation like slavery, or threats from a group that is sure to **** an entire family, some fathers will feel the need to **** their family, by their own hands, rather than let them die by others. In this theory his family would not have to suffer. Which makes sense but is a grotesque idea to entertain.

This poem is about a boy who was shot by his father. They were both opposing each other and were soldiers of separate armies. The father shot his son because already he could see he was suffering and his father knew it would only get worse, so he shot him to end his suffering. However, he could not deal with the guilt of his action, so he ended up shooting himself as well. I liked writing this, and i hope you guys enjoy it.



P.S: For really crazy people read each last line in each stanza and put them together for a mini poem
Manda Aug 2017
From all the things I'm running from,
they are killing me,
designed to test me.
Maybe it's the temper or the patient,
Whether to quit now or then,
But for as long as I know,
The matter of time,
Is always the same,
And in another part of universe,
It's okay,
to say the time is up,
Now.
Next page