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Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2019
[Why did you choose medicine?]

Once I asked myself
The same question
What I'm for?
Where I feel alive?

I could've been a different person
If I had not realized
I DON'T HAVE TIME
And it makes sense

I DON'T HAVE TIME
For arguments
For competition
For explanation
For profit counts

I am destined, here
To heal
To love
To liberate
To be free
To progress
For a newer balance
Of the humankind

Thus, I adopt
Genre: Autobiography
Theme: Wisdom in time
Erian Rose Apr 2019
You're my medicine and pain
The scar inside my brain
Can you heal me?
Because all I want is you out
Before I go insane...
Alice Wilde Apr 2019
How funny is it
A simple salt was
Forgotten by my brain
Luna Apr 2019
Happiness is blue and round
Happiness lives in a bottle
Happiness fits in the palm of my hand
Happiness is taken with water
Happiness lasts from seven to six
Happiness tastes like chalk
I take my happiness every day
So why can’t I notice a difference?
Lawren Apr 2019
Since the age of 4,
I’ve wanted nothing more
Than to heal, and feel
Like I belong, therefore

I struggle and try
Pretend not to cry
While you laugh and laugh
Elated to simply standby.

I plead and seek your aid,
Instead of help, you evade
All I ask of you, is for you to do
The job for which you are paid.

My blunder I can’t ascertain
My fellows you guide time and again
Until, I yet see, that the error is me
Teaching me is from what you refrain.

But the real problem here,
Is that I can’t be clear,
Of this skin I was born in,
It doesn’t exist—a veneer.

On the ground I must lay,
Your knee crushing my airway,
While to me you tell, that all is swell,
My lips blue, no air left to say

That since I was 4,
I’ve wanted nothing more
Than to heal, and feel
Like I belong, therefore

Though scared I may seem,
And left no self-esteem
I continue to fight, for it is my right
To keep pursuing my dream.
How it feels when teachers refuse to help you because of a characteristic or feature or part of you that you were born with.
Arisa Apr 2019
You are my life support.
And I am plagued by the past.

Call me beautiful like it's the only thing
Keeping me breathing.

Kiss me like you mean it,
Your love is my medicine.

You are my life support.
Be forever bound to me.
Poem about my clingy past love.
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
As the idiot
Eats and swallows the
Poppy flower
So long ago.  
Did he know
That his stupidity
Opened a new world.
melinoe immortal Mar 2019
I scream, inside the tomb
--
they placed the bomb
---

that used to beat and left it rot
----

wondering what was the cause
----

of such a breakdown.
Denial is great, when people  refuse to blink into reality and admit permanent damage done to souls that have survived incomplete wreckage of spirit. Denial as a mechanism of spiritual stagnation, impedes possible progress and progression into acceptance and resolution of problems; forgiveness. Denial morphed into a coping mechanism for the weak, covering mental instability.  Inevitably, those who have been let down, rejected;  in darkness their insides that has been unwillingly painted by others. Some still suffer mentally inside their little box, accepting what has been done, the past that has been and the current battles to overcome.  The blackness is there in a present term, and  hope as well for the ones who scream silently, but carry no sign of it in the morning. The scream of the child buried and the smile and promise of the grown up to itself, never to become an example of the ones who are in denial. Never to cause physical or mental harm that is untreatable, to bring light to those who have been through the same. To never forget, but learn to expect everything from people; not imitate sources of malice, be vigilant and learn that denial and not taking responsibility can only lead to a progressive spiritual Disintegration.
neth jones Mar 2019
You know you are wrong
when you bed me in our own litter
and The Feaster raises its head
to feed our relations with its attention
We persist
and you're having none of my boring objections
This bed has become a field
of mammal ply and spell craft
We sign out glyphs
in energies and positionings
In The Feasters eyes
we have meaning
we are positive
we glow for it
Feathers from air
we tap out
with a shared vocal hark

..in crash the mind ;
plan flown on
an excercise of oblivion
Criminal tide rising
to feel upon the doggy moon
When The Love has only known The Night Time
with little illumination
the revealed is a frightful thing ;
a Medicine and a Leviathan
David Adamson Mar 2019
N.  N is for neurologist.  
What does the neurologist say?
“Nothing seems to be wrong.
Your net recall seems normal.
You seem to remember most nouns and the news.
Nothing serious,
No need to worry.”

I don’t quite remember driving here.
This is Bethesda, right?
And your name is…?

P.  P is for psychologist.
The P. is silent.
So is the psychologist.
I talk and talk.
My energy level is high today,
even though I got no sleep last night.  
I want to write a poem and run a partial marathon.
I love people.
People are so beautiful.
“Only connect,” said E.M. Forster.
Am I talking too much?
How does that make me feel?
Just great!  Not like yesterday,
when I wanted to jump into the Potomac
from Key Bridge.
P is also for Potomac.
The psychologist speaks.
I need a new pill.

E. E is for endocrinologist.
What does the endocrinologist say?
“Eat. You’re an enigma.
You are losing weight.
We don’t know why.
We’ve checked everything
and can’t find evidence
of enemies in your endocrine system.
Enjoy some eclairs, eggplant, eggs benedict.
Life is short, endulge!  
Hopefully not too short.

O. O is for oncologist.
Oh.
Oh oh.
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