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kyle-holbrook
kyle-holbrook
Welcome to my escape from the real world.
The power of my spoken word Is little if they're left unheard And if thet stay inside my head They might as well be words unsaid
0
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Untitled
Not bent Broken Snapped To the point where you can't see me Not that you did anyway Maybe I blinded you Maybe you were always blind But now, for sure my mind is Snapped Broken Leaving I was supposed to bend I was supposed to have strength But I guess that it all left, so now I'm Broken Snapped Gone
0
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
Snapped
They flow and I am left Confused and sad and a mix of a million other things But I can't say any of them I am a man I put up walls to keep people out And bite my cheek to hold back tears I need to look strong, to put on a brave face I am a man Who cares Maybe everyone, but I don't see that My sight is blocked by walls that I put up so now No one can see me, and I see no hope, only darkness Yet somehow words seep through the cracks I can't see the source but the words are clear They break down the walls, and they flow Am I  a man?
0
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
I'm a man
I can't say it... Not anymore I love you are that will now strike a discord I love you is a phrase I simply cannot afford Conversations won't be ending with I love you anymore....
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
I can't say it
Is I wrong to seek a piece of myself when I could be whole with what we have? Is it wrong to want to put distance between us before your a million miles away? Is it wrong that lack of connection with you makes me want to seek it with someone else? Is it wrong to say I love you when thoughts of leaving you are in my head? Is it wrong that my deep desire for you is slowly pushing me away? Is it wrong that this dreary monotony Makes me wish I'd left yesterday? Is it wrong that my life and myself seem to constantly push us apart?
0
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
Is it wrong.....
Fake smiles hide real pain. Fake stories hide real shame. Fake laughs hide real fears. Fake emotions hide real tears. Fake words, and real lies, Cause fake friendships and real fights. Fake promises of real dreams Make people crack cry and scream But kind words make people smile. Real people leading real lives Is exactly what this world needs So we can stop smiling fake smiles.
0
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
Fake
Maybe Maybe if I stopped venting to a screen And coping with videos Or if I stopped "talking" and talked If I could only trust If I didn't feel the need to be strong If I wasn't an example Maybe then I could tear down walls that restrict me Walls that I made Walls that keep my maybe from being possible And maybe if they were torn down Maybe then I wouldn't feel alone in crowds Or fake whenever I talked to people Maybe I could connect with people Or I could feel real Or even alive Maybe..... just maybe....
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
Maybe
I know a few things. I know that being in church doesn't save you And I know every other one liner a minister will say I know I'm imperfect I know what I've done in dark rooms,behind closed doors And I know what lurks in the dark recesses of my mind Things taken from a screen and from the mouths of others. I know of the darkness that they bring Darkness which permeates throughout your entire being; That reaches the deepest part of the soul. I know the pain of chains digging deep into flesh, and I know what they rip apart Joy Sanity Hope But I know the Bliss of when they break. I know about whirlpools, The hopeless downward spiral, And how no matter how hard you fight against them you need someone to pull you out. I know how people see me. Leader Blessed Perfect And I know they only have fractured knowledge They don't search deeply They know as a student does, Just enough to get by... no more and I know if they did know their views would twist, why? Because I know chains still bind me, I know that no matter how much I rip them out and tear off parts of myself I can't break the chains, I know if I just stopped knowing and acted I might have a chance. But until then...chains remain. No one sees them because I put on fly clothes to cover up But I know they remain. They stay because this whirlpool spits them back on me and I know until I get help I need but have never known I will not know freedom. I know of my helper and I don't deserve him I know all the grime that is on me Blood, tears, and nervous sweat mixed to create my foul coat. But thankfully he responds more to dirt and tears than to white smiles. So I'm choosing to stop knowing. I am presenting to him all of my filth all my dirt and all of its wretchedness. He will look through it and see me. This great helper, whom I never deserved, will look upon my filth but see through and find treasure. And he will rejoice, He'll take me into him home and give me a bath to wash off all of the dirt that I've flung onto myself. He will cut the chains and cast them as far as east and west. And then me, this orphan who searched for completeness in substance and through screens, will be made complete. I will be washed pure, and with the grime gone I will barley be recognizable because I've been made new. Then I know that I will be with my helper, my restorer forever, without chains, whirlpools, screens, or any other filth Just me and the man who put me back together.
0
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Untitled
I know a few things. I know that being in church doesn't save you And I know every other one liner a minister will say I know I'm imperfect I know what I've done in dark rooms,behind closed doors And I know what lurks in the dark recesses of my mind Things taken from a screen and from the mouths of others. I know of the darkness that they bring Darkness which permeates throughout your entire being; That reaches the deepest part of the soul. I know the pain of chains digging deep into flesh, and I know what they rip apart Joy Sanity Hope But I know the Bliss of when they break. I know about whirlpools, The hopeless downward spiral, And how no matter how hard you fight against them you need someone to pull you out. I know how people see me. Leader Blessed Perfect And I know they only have fractured knowledge They don't search deeply They know as a student does, Just enough to get by... no more and I know if they did know their views would twist, why? Because I know chains still bind me, I know that no matter how much I rip them out and tear off parts of myself I can't break the chains, I know if I just stopped knowing and acted I might have a chance. But until then...chains remain. No one sees them because I put on fly clothes to cover up But I know they remain. They stay because this whirlpool spits them back on me and I know until I get help I need but have never known I will not know freedom. I know of my helper and I don't deserve him I know all the grime that is on me Blood, tears, and nervous sweat mixed to create my foul coat. But thankfully he responds more to dirt and tears than to white smiles. So I'm choosing to stop knowing. I am presenting to him all of my filth all my dirt and all of its wretchedness. He will look through it and see me. This great helper, whom I never deserved, will look upon my filth but see through and find treasure. And he will rejoice, He'll take me into him home and give me a bath to wash off all of the dirt that I've flung onto myself. He will cut the chains and cast them as far as east and west. And then me, this orphan who searched for completeness in substance and through screens, will be made complete. I will be washed pure, and with the grime gone I will barley be recognizable because I've been made new. Then I know that I will be with my helper, my restorer forever, without chains, whirlpools, screens, or any other filth Just me and the man who put me back together.
Continue reading...
51
I try to compensate with smiles so people won't find That I cage up a monster with a mask of lies, I make slits on my wrist so that it can fly, Leaving me alone to bleed and cry, Alone as I've been for  all these years, Isolated on an island of tears Having to fight through my darkest fears You won't  reach out to me and nobody hears All the screams that I make in the black of night, I cry out in pain cuz I'm losing this fight With myself, there's no help For people like me Except a bottle of pills that's supposed to treat The symptoms of monsters we bury inside Locked behind a mask of lies, The pills take the monsters and leave us bone dry With nothing...not monsters, or tears left to cry.
0
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC
Monstrous