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doorsofgold
doorsofgold
In life's quietest moments we can hear the whispers of the world and, it's our job to pen these words.
Mirrors they crack beneath the weight of my stare the scrutiny the hate Walking, my feet bleed, upon the shards The shattered remnants of my once- confident beautiful- visage A mask porcelain delicate, yet strong Now broken. Always Broken? Tears run dry. Reflecting reality my reality
0
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Reflection
I'm sick of being told what to do I'm sick of being told how to act I’m not to blame Your woes are not my fault The weight is not on my shoulders And yet, I carry it. I don’t understand why you do this I care so much You’re throwing away everything It’s your life, You’re a loser- I would tell you, but you it’s too painfully true I can’t hurt you I won’t Let myself But you, you hurt me knife after knife straight to the heart At the flip of a hat I, I would drop the world. You could whisper my name -no matter the distance- I would hear. I shout your name and you, you run. You live your trash can life I stand by and watch I can hear the loneliness in your voice, see it in your smile. Yet, I’m here. Waiting, always. You don’t have to hide or throw yourself away YOU deserve better, but so do I. I won’t take it anymore, I cant. I’m done turning the other cheek Masochism isn’t my ****** no matter how many punches you throw no matter how many punches I take I’ll never enjoy it. I’ll cry for you. I’ll cry for me. I cry for us. I may never forgive I will never forget but I will always love you to the moon and back.
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Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
Trash Can Life
Im afraid; That they will take my emotions Make me someone that i’m not I’m afraid; That they will take my tears and my fears And turn me into an empty shell I’m afraid; That they will take my creativity That only seems present when I’m not Flip the switch and it’ll be off So will I It’s all that I’ve got I’m afraid; Of what they will do to me How they will change who I am I’m afraid; That I won’t recognize who I become Will it be me? Who I should be? Or will it be a mockery? I’m afraid, Of what they will change inside I’m afraid; That if I flee from them I’ll die
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Pills
Our eyes met, My heart stilled You talked for hours I listened rapt Your laugh, I loved Your smile, I loved Your lips, I watched You held me in your arms We spoke of our lives Whispered secrets Counted the stars You kissed my hair I touched your chest You guarded me warmed me Shielded from the wind A fire was ignited Protected from the cold of loneliness One sided, short lived Turned cold, turned back I didn’t interest you, wasn't enough I understood, accepted Friends? Gone I reached out, cried out Crystalline tears Once warm, Frozen You left My heart, you took I am hollow Aching; uncertainty, self-loathing, unworthy,disgusted Burning for you; I, am an ember You, are a tundra Frozen, Your soul My warmth is gone I am gone
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
One Sided
Can you hear them? The screams. Turmoil, pain, guilt, shame. Humanity is lost. Our souls are as broken as the pavement, as chipped as the doll’s porcelain face. We ask questions we deem meaningful; what are we doing to make a difference? In a world with souls black as tar, is there a difference to be made? What will you do when you grow up? Is it possible to grow up in a world where even the adults are surrounded by toys, spending all day in daycares? How much money will you make? Money that will buy you proverbial joy, but will burn with you in a temporal hell Royal we. We are doomed. 
Society is dead. Heathens. You scoff, you shudder, you fear. Truth. Humanity is hedonistic, selfish, sick, broken. Prehistoric. Don your black lace, cover your visage with veils; look away from the future for there is no future. Not here, in a world as flat as the screens we see it through. Flashes and glimpses. History books, Juxtapose our worlds. We are no longer the people of the past; nor those of the future. Back in the day. Get off my lawn. Laughter. Caned, Alone, Confused. Disabled. What were your parents thinking?
 Blame a generation but, who raised them? Cracked Soul. Death comes. We run, where? Accept your fate. Humanity is fallen. The time has come. Bravery. Staunch Courage. Look Death in the face and smirk? Cut down. Over. Souls as black as tar. Broken like the teapot on the floor. Liquid, from the cracks. Your standards. Who are you? Doesn’t matter. End it. He did. Tears. Why?
 Humanity is over. Fallen. Gone. Prehistoric.
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Untitled
Can you hear them? The screams. Turmoil, pain, guilt, shame. Humanity is lost. Our souls are as broken as the pavement, as chipped as the doll’s porcelain face. We ask questions we deem meaningful; what are we doing to make a difference? In a world with souls black as tar, is there a difference to be made? What will you do when you grow up? Is it possible to grow up in a world where even the adults are surrounded by toys, spending all day in daycares? How much money will you make? Money that will buy you proverbial joy, but will burn with you in a temporal hell Royal we. We are doomed. 
Society is dead. Heathens. You scoff, you shudder, you fear. Truth. Humanity is hedonistic, selfish, sick, broken. Prehistoric. Don your black lace, cover your visage with veils; look away from the future for there is no future. Not here, in a world as flat as the screens we see it through. Flashes and glimpses. History books, Juxtapose our worlds. We are no longer the people of the past; nor those of the future. Back in the day. Get off my lawn. Laughter. Caned, Alone, Confused. Disabled. What were your parents thinking?
 Blame a generation but, who raised them? Cracked Soul. Death comes. We run, where? Accept your fate. Humanity is fallen. The time has come. Bravery. Staunch Courage. Look Death in the face and smirk? Cut down. Over. Souls as black as tar. Broken like the teapot on the floor. Liquid, from the cracks. Your standards. Who are you? Doesn’t matter. End it. He did. Tears. Why?
 Humanity is over. Fallen. Gone. Prehistoric.
Continue reading...
55
The sunken ship has burst its bounds, sheltered in the ebony. 
Carefree smudges and distant pounding endowed the harpy’s song. 
Terrestrial slivers have cost the giant its full stature. 
Its lackluster peers watch, miserly 
At the beauty’s casting up of its final luminous rays, 
Attempting again to catch the lilting air.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Last Gasp