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  Oct 2017 Chloe Hunt
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.
  Oct 2017 Chloe Hunt
Em MacKenzie
The broken man can not feel,
no, the broken man can not heal.
The broken man creates a child,
and leaves it defenseless in the wild.

The broken man does not care,
no, the broken man is never there.
The broken man is built to roam,
after he destroys your home.
He'll put your life upon a shelf,
yes, the broken man only loves himself.
The broken man has no voice,
ignoring common sense with every choice.

It's his world, it's his life,
you've been hurled, for his wife.
It's his plan, it's his goals,
the broken man leaves broken souls.

The broken man just lives for fun,
he believes he is the only one.
The broken man is always dazed,
and believes his family is not phased.
The broken man cares much for wealth,
but still he only loves himself.
The broken man is my father,
and I don't wish to be a broken daughter.

It's his world, it's his life,
he’s got pearl, I’ve got strife.
It's his clan, filled by holes,
the broken man leaves broken souls.

The broken man does not feel,
no, the broken man will always steal.
The broken man creates a child,
and the broken man has never smiled.
The broken man cares not for health,
but he'll always only love himself.
The broken man is my father,
because of the mother I miss; he forgot her.

It's his world, it's his life,
you've been hurled, for his wife.
It's his plan, it's his goals,
the broken man leaves broken souls.
I took a little pill last night
           to help me fall asleep,
hoping and praying
           to release the strife I keep.

But, it didn’t work…..

So, I took a long walk last night
          out in the freezing rain,
hoping and praying
           it would wash away my pain.

But, it didn’t work….

So, I came back into the house
          so tired and cold,
looked up into a mirror
          realizing I looked so old.

So I sat down and cried….

As morning approached I was exhausted,
    a need to lay down my weary head,
I hoped and prayed for dreamless sleep
  away from my heartbreak and dread.

But sleep was broken by dreams
         and now I welcome a new day,
   starting all over again
a peaceful heart, mind, and soul is what I pray…..*
~
  Oct 2017 Chloe Hunt
PaperclipPoems
My homeland is bleeding
Everywhere I turn, my brothers are fleeing
My sisters are kneeling
I stop and I stare, inside I am screaming
And my heart is racing
My palms are sweating
These sirens won't stop ringing
My homeland is bleeding
Vegas, Columbine, Sandy Hook, New York, Orlando, Virginia Tech, San Bernardino... it doesn't stop
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