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I once felt like words gave me power
Like they gave my quiet shell of a self a leg to stand on
Now I feel like I have none left to speak, to write
I've been drained of verbs and left broken -- immobile
My adjectives fall soft and simple, even the deaf don't pretend to hear
It's strange
Being so far removed from the one you called yourself
I don't know what there is left for me to say
It's like being a young musician on stage
And people have slowly stopped cheering as they realized
You have no more tunes left to play
Yet I've stood frozen, stuck, despite myself
I'm waiting for them to come back
The words
The crowds
The self that I used to know
That I thought I did know
I haven't a clue to where they've left, to where they'll go
But I hope that they find it
The messages they seek
I can no longer provide them
My inkwell bone dry
My spirit missing it's former vibrance, now dully meek
They once called me wicked
I thought it ironically sweet
That for someone so bitter
Many worshiped me
It's been a while, I think, since you all got a nice wordy note from me.

I've been writing poetry for...8? 9? years now... And I've gotta say, I legit cannot tell if I've gotten better or worse. I used to write because I was ****** at life, or violently angry with myself, or if I wanted to do bad things. I don't feel like that anymore. Pretty much never. I've survived some ****, but now (all things considered at least) I'm starting to thrive a bit. When I was at my height of popularity on this site, or at least what my very ****** up and disillusioned perceptions gathered to be the height of it, I was sick. I was having regular dissociative episodes, was severely depressed, engaging in self harm in a variety of forms nearly daily, and very suicidal. If anyone is going through some ****, please seek help, and hold on. I promise it gets better. But yeah. When I was very aggressively using this site as an outlet, I amassed a good sized follower count and trended almost daily. The only poem I ever had make daily poem (which btw was toward the beginning of my worst downward spiral ever) was about hanging myself. Like what the **** lol. But if I helped people -- or even just one someone somewhere -- feel less alone, then I'm glad. But ever since I had started to get better I got less attention here. Which is kinda a weird feeling. I'm not sure if it's cause my writing started to **** or if I got less 'interesting' for lack of a better term, or maybe a mix. Or maybe it's all the changes this site has had over the past 4 years since I joined. Either way, it's weird... I feel like I don't know how to keep writing or improve... Idk, I'm just kinda...
stuck. ...This has been a stream of consciousness.

Anyway, I love you all. And in a special way those of you who have left this world for another. I will never forget you.
 Sep 2015 A Sickening Love
Never been there.
Can't talk about it much.
I've seen shadows on the wall.
Crying faces in my dorm hall.
I've seen reflections of friends
in the communal toilet while they Puke-TSD.
Can't talk about it much.
It's not a subject I like to touch.
Never been there.
Never talking like I've seen it all.
They have. Ask them what it's like to fall
down and check your face for scrapes
and have other people put band-aids
on your ***. ("Oops, my mistake!")
Or better yet, don't.
Don't ask me.
Don't ask them.
They can talk.
I've never been.

If they ask, you can answer with the voice of a friend.
But don't ask. Don't reopen the PTSDen
of pain and the past. Just listen if they ask.
Have some ******* courtesy till then.
The roses are dying
The ones on my skin
They are wilting
Wearing thin
Wake up
It's Monday
Lace up your shoes
Walk out the door
No one to notice anymore
There's no one here anymore

Wake up
It's Tuesday
Makeup your face
Walk straight to work
To get a good tip just flirt
Smile so it doesn't have hurt

Wake up
It's Wednesday
Comb out your hair
Go through the rain
The wet can hide the pain
That's on your face in stains

Wake up
It's Thursday
Look in the mirror
Avoid your eyes
Don't listen to empty lies
To whispers in their eyes

Wake up
It's Friday
Brush your teeth
Swallow all fear
No one left to listen here
None to shout, ****, or jeer

Wake up
It's Saturday
Click out your notes
Play back the laughs
You've recorded in drafts
Not much ever seems to last

Wake up
It's Sunday
Button your dress
Go pray at church
Tell yourself it all has worth
How could it get any worse

Wake up
It's Monday
Lace up your shoes
Save a life, of course
Pick you up, pouring rain
But get your beer-coated breath out of my face

Stop shouting, we'll buy your smokes
Putting your hands on her arm
Dragging your fingers to trace
My hands shove you back
Sit down in the back seat
You push me away

She's driving
For God's sake she's driving
   Stop whispering in her ear
     She's yelling
   Stop whispering in her ear
     She's whimpering
   Stop whispering in her ear
     She's sobbing

Get your lips off her
Sit down in the back seat
We are on the highway
We cannot stop
We are on the highway
Sit down in the back seat
Don't park the car
**You can't park th-
The other night.
I will always protect her. I don't **** around.
Let that be a lesson to you.
The quality of this is **** tho...
I never knew
What life held
Until I met you
Heaven is closer

I thought I was lonely
Then you came along
I fell for you only
Heaven is closer

Angels are flying
All around us
I hear love sighing
Heaven is closer

So all we ever do
Is feel the magic
Because being with you
Heaven is closer
Copyright © Chris Smith 2012
Call upon me, Lord.
Amongst these trees,
I cannot hide.
Search my heart and
come free my mind.
Oh, reveal Yourself to me.
Oh, reveal Yourself this time.
Oh, reveal  Yourself in me.
Lord, I long to see you in everything,
I ache for you to fill my life.
Lord call upon me now,
call on me anytime.
Fill me, Lord.
Oh, give me
Choose an eternity with Him, not the deceit of this world.
On this rainy day
I just want to cry
Not like some others
Who wish they would die

On this rainy day
Just want it to end
*** somehow I thought
He was a Godsend.

On this rainy day
I wish I could weep
And all my troubles
Could roll down my cheeks

On this rainy day
I just want the tears
And just to erase
All the past years

On this rainy day
My emotions scream
And boy do I wish
This was all a dream

On this rainy day
Want someone to hold
Someone who'll love me
Even when I'm old

On this rainy day
A painting's my heart
He graffitid it
And made it his art

On this rainy day
Breath seems like torture
A thing of unknown
Like a new culture

On this rainy day
I just want to cry
But oh pity me
My tear ducts are dry

On this rainy day
I just want to choke
On my wet tears, but
My tear ducts are broke.
I wish I could cry, but all there is is emptiness.
 May 2015 A Sickening Love
 May 2015 A Sickening Love
                    He had lips of an angel,
A kiss that could make a judge forgive ******,

  A touch that made 2AM thoughts osculate,

                        And me, he had me..

            Loving him like he was my religion.
We're so obsessed with what we've got
That we can't see what we could have.
Nobody likes sacrifice but its neccesary,
Its always there in every twist and turn,
In every shape and form, real or imaginary.

But is one dollar bill worth clearing thousands of hills?
Is that bedside table worth killing all those trees?
Is your little toy worth sacraficing your oxygen?
And will your fur coat make you any better than that animal?
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