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Luis Mdáhuar Aug 2014
I sleep when the noise goes to the buttom of the earth to find the absynth of the chimeney, as my lover says, "there is no life withiut rubbing a ****", she was a great infant, like a dandelion after shaving her arm pit, blue and red the hairs that fall into the grave. I am a giraffe and love to contemplate, but humans are very stupid, they come to talke pictures of me and never of the ants.
HELICOPTER
daisies Mar 2014
Tell me I'm not the only one who's a goner,
with controversial thoughts of the presence of
pure goodness within the most contemptible.

Tell me it doesn't seem so preposterous
that the greatest revolters could,
in some way, feel remorse.

Tell me that there at least might be
a glint of goodness in people
if you attempted to flounder them back and forth in your mind,
until everything repugnant, artless, and coarse fell away.

Tell me that maybe then a constellation may form
at the buttom of the pit,
a rare element ambushed in exposed bedrock,
that will be washed out and elevated by a fiery storm upstream.
"In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart." - Anne Frank
The machine's coldness seethed my hair
as the world sat on my shoulder
that made it surrender
like curtains on a steaming afternoon
sighing questions
and endless uncertainty.

I punched the buttom
wrecked number 3
that bled Espresso
which in this another night
of your absence

would keep me awake
as I intensively unstitch the truth
about your pathetically sewn inventions
and attack the facts
about the abnormality of your society
and irrationality of your culture.

I swear I ******* hate you.
And someday you will die,
*******.
theunknown Oct 2017
The walls that I've made,
From the buttom to the top,
make it sturdy and tough,
so that no one can hurt me,
so that It'll protect me,
from the people that is not,
as nice as I thought,

But got only destroyed
to the brown eye'd boy
who I thought loved me whole
but only hurt me just like them all.
3 am thoughts
I am tierd of how confused my heart is everytime we talk.
Crying in the night wondering if i am
Losing my mind over you.
Can't you see how much it is killing
Me inside does it even matter to you?.
Laying on a tear soak pillow looking
At your name wondering, if should
Just press the delete buttom on you.
Yes my heart will break.
But your killing me everyday.
This has come from a personal experience in todays world with social media we can never be sure who we are talking to and you can get burned
Jez Jun 26
There is and will always be a hole in everyones heart, but the real hole is hidden beneath that hole.
That hole signifies your knowledge on your acads, family, friends, or a certain someone.

I was talking to myself, wanting to make another poem, and all my poems consist of the kind of person I am. But not all.

     A certain someone left a hole in my heart, I was curious and explored it, the more I explored, the more knowledge I gained. Eventually I reached the end of that hole, but I was not satisfied, so I dug deeper and deeper and deeper, and the deeper I went, the more knowledge I gained again and again.

It's heavy, the pressure is heavy. It's like when  deeper you dig on the earths surface the more pressure you felt, it's like that. That pressure in the hole i'm in, is the pressure of knowledge, but i've dug to the point where there's no going up, and plus I got more curious, a big mistake I say.

Then I knew I was nearing the end of that hole, I was so relieved since I can't handle the pressure anymore, then one more digging, and the floor beneath me crumbled, and I fell deeper and deeper and everything i've learned, the bigger picture, I know now. I'm in the buttom of the hole now, no light, no way out. The regret comes rushing in "oh why did I explore". It hurts knowing everything, how that certain person think, moves, what their schedule is, and the reason behind their actions. Feeling like there's no escaping and no getting out, left or right, fron or back, there's a wall of dirt " How do I get out". Stuck in there for days, the irony, since I don't even know if a day had passed.

I talk to my self again, since I know my
inner self knows what to do, but I just act oblivious, unintentionally. Just accept it and move on, it said. The only way to move on is if you dig deeper, there's mo other way, up or down, left or right, front or back there's no way. I dug more once again, I shouldered it all. The more I dug, slowly but surely the pressure lessened, but the heavier the shovel and my feets got. Until I dug out, finally i'm out, I said. I looked in the hole, now there's a deep deep hole left behind, feeling heavy, regret sadness, melancholic? Joy?. Until I got used there having a hole. Eventually you'll fall into that hole again in the future, but if you've truly moved on, that hole should be shallow but still noticeable.
I hope you guys get what I'm tryna point out

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