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Jeremy Betts Jan 3
Like a drug taken for a quarter century, this writing doesn't help like it use to...
See,
I'm starting to feel like it's working against me
Holding me here in pain and misery
Cleverly disguised as creativity
I use to lie and say it was a way to get rid of all this negativity
But I've spilled so much blood and tears onto stationary
...and not even purely metaphorically...
I should be completely empty
Hell, I think I might be
I think it's moved onto draining my energy
Can I still call this writing therapy?
Is it healthy or does it keep me from a new me?
Holding tightly but in spite of me
Hiding a different side of a complex personality
A new level of maturity
Is it actually helping any?
Today it's hard to say, but maybe
Unfortunately, it's something I'm good at, a skill I enjoy and I don't have many
So I've begun to notice I look at it differently
It was suppose to help me let go of the painful unpleasantry held in many a memory
But it woke a part of my ego that I didn't know would grip so tightly
It might have been a mistake to rely on it so heavily
It's no longer moving along the story
No cautionary tales to learn from because they never become history
It becomes a bookmark that I don't use properly
I never move it to the page I left off on and now, I must admit openly, I'm doing it purposely
I keep the worst of me right next to me, close as a frienemy
All because I notice I DON'T write when I'm happy
And I like to write so I dance around emotions strategically
I don't know if it's anything worth saying but writing is calling and drawing me in closely
A ghostly presence that when I look closely I see my identity
It hasn't always been but is now a big part of me
But does it want all of me?
Can't say either way with any certainty
No AH-HA moment, no clarity, only a death grip on disparity
So I recklessly walk the line of happy and tragedy
Like a DUI test on the side of the freeway, drunken pageantry
Eyes closed usually
No thought of mine or anyone else's safety
Dangerously close to calamity
And I just worry

©2024
Hunter Sep 2019
I’m here to admit,
That you are my medicine.
I’m on my knees,
Begging you not to leave.

Baby I’m really on the ropes this time,
Wake me up when they build a time machine.
So I can search and look,
Just to find you in my life earlier.

But no excuses,
I got this feeling in my bones,
That you’ll be the one to set me free.
Thank you for the happiest year of my life princess.
I've met someone special about fourth months ago, who's been helping through the hardest moments of my life. She took me in when my parents forced me out, despite my setbacks she been bringing happiness into my life .
B D Caissie Aug 2019
Life is a garden
               plant your seeds.
Remove those of
                whom are weeds.
Ithaca Apr 2019
Is it good to be strong?
Is it bad to be weak?
Is it wrong to fit in?
Or right to be unique?

Are you selfish if you want help?
Are you selfless if you give it?

Is there altruism in amicable lies?
Or selfishness in a fake smile?
Do you even know who I am?
Do I?

You always have both hands out ready to help anyone who needs it
I want to be like you, and I’m starting to see opportunities, but where you act on them, I do not. I guess that means I’m
Tony Tweedy Mar 2019
Truly it inspires me to visit the ether on which you pen.
To speak of things of who I am,
and of my times of "when".
To see the universes you've painted all revolving there.
To understand that not all voices,
are tainted by despair.
In a universe of darkness no shadow could I see.
Shouting words into the pitch,
I thought only heard by me.
I take the time to thank you all whether you write or read.
For in my place of darkness,
you have planted starlight's seed.
A genuine thank you to those who share their worlds and have taken the time to see mine.
I won't do anything,
To help those in need,
But I beg and plead,
Put the weight on a stead,
To carry me,
Into a sight to see,
Of all this hatred,
This pain,
This suffering,
"Solved" by me,
Although I can,
Help a lot,
I have before,
Haven't been caught,
I just don't,
Wanna take credit,
For others work,
And then forget it,
I wanna be remembered,
In a friend's heart,
For a welcome embrace,
Or a friendly start,
Not the one,
Who made them feel ****,
About their insecurities,
Then say I fixed their heart.
I'm a good enough therapist, I won't push on teen life bored games, I will give you things from experience.  I still need to do other formats of poetry, so I might try a Haiku or something like that.  There is also slam, which I have been very curious about.  Can't wait to tell more emotions and stories through the arts of poetry.
Personal problems consume me,
nobody gets the fears I have.
The clock counts away the time to live,
ticking before I know the true feeling of love.
The clock is about to fall off the wall
and lose all of it's time.
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