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ash9f
I know you don't wanna talk to me and that's fine. I've just been wondering if you're finally okay after all this time. But you have to believe me I was always on your side. When I finally got him to confess, a part of me died inside. And that day I left you as you cried. I was late for the case worker who brushed what I said aside. I wanted to apologise, but you have every right to cut me out of your life. But I want you to know I was always on your side.
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 6:06 PM UTC
I'm sorry, I just wish we could talk
For you, a flower in my mouth With colours I've never experienced before Its scent intoxicates me like the smell of your hair It's girth makes it hard for me to speak A softness to it's petals, and a edge to it's thorns Which pierce my lips shut, So my mouth may never show you the beauty you create within me
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
For You, A Flower In My Mouth
The bridge to the past continues to crumble. So take a bottle of wine and drink in the rubble.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:11 AM UTC
It doesn't stop
So boiled,  burnt alive or frozen stiff The ice will split my skin and crack and bleed The water melts my skull, I feel it drip So Burn the witch.  If left or Right. Don't care. I  like the smell of burning flesh. It's nice. And rage is powerful, used like A bullet aimed precisely at the heart. Instead we're spraying, like a child at play. We hit an artery allowing us to dance offbeat in blood, so maggots crawl Away.
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Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
The world is on Fire within ice
I break myself and build it back together Just to fit in I'm lego man, I change forever A different person, the old inside the bin
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
Lego Man
Sitting down in a caff, And a book called symposium (1) Fills your mind, with a torrent of thoughts and small guilt Be alone, it is best in the end And imprison yourself So the hurt, be contained You thought love, was so fair You're a ***** it's hard And it's harsh Do not lie to yourself And stop lying to her You are selfish, she's not love But your hostage you trapped In a web of emotions you built You're a ****** it's okay to admit You need help. This is sick. You don't love her.
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 6:56 PM UTC
You don't love her
I'm a ghost, a pathetic ol' ghoul, I am trapped in your palace of memories And the walls, are now playing, the beatles, she sweet. And the table, is covered in parks. And a sobbing old Mickey across With a note in his hand And it smells just like, you I hear dance, from the ceiling, And it sounds, like a croon Slowly Float, through the hall, to your bath Made of emerald and grey sand And I swim, in your toilet, with a packet of ******* There's a key, at the bottom, it tempts, as I swim, To the end, with the key, in my hand And I walk, to your door I hear laughs You're a part, of me, still You still haunt me I open the door And see you smiling I smell your warmth I feel you touching my chest And I was happy to let the house crumble
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Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Method of loci
My first memory was of a boy whose joy seeped through his ****** hands, he sewed my nose on, he dragged me in agony, screaming angrily that the world is filled with nothing but pain and men who were insane but I knew deep in my heart he was wrong. My next memory was of another boy skipping merrily towards me his joy giving me hope, to secretly gloat that the Chinese boy was wrong, he wanted me, he need me, he loved me, the grand power of three, what every teddy bear wants I came home with the boy whose joy made made me happy, I loved the boy named Lee and he loved me. The years went by in haste, and our love faded at an alarming pace, I became a ghost perched on his bed wishing I was now dead, I cut a slot for my mouth and cotton and pain came out, I stole a bottle and went full throttle on the beer cursing anyone I ever held dear. One day when the sun beamed and his eyes gleamed, for the first time in years he looked in my direction then pulled out his ******** he stuffed it in my mouth and my seams tore as he called me a ***** ***** I was in pain, and he thrusted in and out again he gasped and toppled over, finally My mouth filled with his love, my cotton no longer the colour of a dove. This is my life now, no reason to fight, the little chinese boy was right, life is not fair, I am no longer the bear of joy, instead I am the bear of misery and despair. **** me now.
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Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
An old poem I wrote