She watched the moon,
As it became immune
To her galaxy eyes.
Silver liquid flowing,
The night's come to a closing,
As she mixed her 'sky dye.'
At least, that's what the stars said,
As each one rubbed her head
Goodnight.
Colored images glowing,
Her eyelids began lowering,
As she, again, was forced to fight-
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars; retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
All feedback is welcome
So this was posted here a couple weeks ago and, when I went to revise it, it was drafted and came out as new, I guess? :)
I live inside my head most days,
Data transfers from and to my brain.
The outside world is out to get me,
The outside world is out to get me.
We **** eachother for what we aren't,
And hate eachother for who we are.
I'm lacking balance, I'm staying in,
Stacking violence up to my chin.
Attacking people for their skin,
You aren't a label; stop enabling it.
I'm stuck in my head, inward so much,
The onward life follows, but hollows a lot.
I know it exists; the terror, the fear,
But caught up inside, it fails to appear.
It fails to scare me; it fails to phase me,
That people love hatred, and they love to hate me.
I tend to ignore it; subconscious or not,
That human against human is a thing that is fought-
This poem was inspired by graffiti i saw on a bathroom stall. It said two things: deport all muslims; and **** all ****** now.
I live with such a nice family, I tend to forget all the awful people in the world.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
If I could mount that rock to my forehead, the demons I'm fighting would finally go.
I know the risks of one last blow.
Visibility is prevented from me, by me, divided.
Engrave my notifications to stone, clone an account and hold me accountable for things I won't do.
We price worth on how happy we are; place purpose on our talents.
Somewhere in the world we have to find balance-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
In front of me; an hourglass,
sand fell off your shoulders,
time slipped away as we gripped
hands and drowned together.
I told you to stay away, as the wind
had dried my heart a long time
ago, and the water washed my soul
of its color. But you smiled,
and crystals melted around your pupils.
As our last breath bubbled
to the surface, we fogged like the
mirrors with drawn-on hearts
stained to them, as our own
clashed in flashes of something
too far in depth to understand.
But I guess you'd always left me
breathless-
It's more like a story. My first attempt at a romantic-type poem
Btw, happy pride month!!
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
His fingertips are doused in gasoline,
to set fire to everything he sees.
Each object he touches,
all the memories collected,
ash away and fall to crimes.
He's got eternal flames inside him,
and yet his eyes remain dimmed and odd.
He's fragile and fractured,
and as his last heart string crackled,
you could see the hope unlit.
Fires and unsettling dreams,
are all he even seems to remember.
He might try and set his body ablaze,
to calmly dry off that crying pain,
sadly sticks and stones withhold his embers.
He won't die, but he can't learn,
the anguish manipulated to feed a burn.
His life was hanging in a balance of dry anger,
rather the deployment of washing hurt again,
he thought would dehydrate its annual return-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
---------------------------------------------------
This poem is about how people don't notice when others are hurt. They could feel like they're drowning, struggling to breathe, even if they're in bed, doing nothing.
(Btw yallow carnations symbolize disappointment; rejection, just if it's confusing)
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
©2018
My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
Put sand in the engine.
Destinations are delayed,
A home unrelated.
Blame it on timing,
Untuned or untied.
United; responses
Are doused in gassed lies-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Draining life to fill it with
watered-down pain, can she feel now? If my teeth make
an appearance, you'll be given your fix of my 'happiness,'
injected through your cranium. I wish I could navigate my
naive wishes, as I'm sinking in my pillows, and the light on
the ceiling is winking at me as I'm patched up, written in 'unhappy'
My uncanny doubts are fancying a feathery gift of sleep,
unlike this fascination with
falling feet to my death of dreams-
It's like I like sadness. I hate it, but I want to cry. I can't anymore. I'm so confused right now with everything in my life, just like this confusing writing.
Like a final catharsis;
 this alternative result resolves chance.
I'm naive; but it's a cure to my heartbreak.
Do you get my pain?
The drastic change, pointlessly grabbing at the air,
as my breaths get thicker and weaker.
I'm voiceless; my options are choiceless.
A final catharsis, warped by the carnage.
I'm seemingly heartless, this wasn't my target.
Now my mind's lethargic, at least it's harmless-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Rings of sleep met my hands, and promised
to wed my lashes, to close. The moon's pupils
acclimated to dusk's orbit, poisonous cycles with
durable antidotes. Starlight circulates death herself,
inaudible, a sobering shadow.
I've lasted by her words progressing,
as I'm no longer here. I faked debt with
her, to try and feel my 'normal' a belted, altered
maker of happiness. They aspired plastic sapphires,
chipping diamonds and bluebells for graves, they took
a dip at my faltered breath- and wanted more, a suicide
note bolted with fantasy;

"The poetry is beautiful,"

"But I just haven't died yet,"
----------------------------------
Lots of people love my poetry. And tons of people say they want my gift, but, I only have this because of all the bad stuff I've been through. You want something I'd give up in a heartbeat- trust me.
All feedback is welcome
Meditating in the carnage,
my core's cyanide became
warm milk before bed. My carcass
coexisted in inconsistent comfort, that
safety untouched like internal feelings.
Unstable caramelized eyes watered down to a
wary hazelnut from lack of love, the way the
phone screen glows white to gray at 4 AM.
Aching in agony; pins and needles
***** my bones tonight, as
my mouth is sewn with graphite-
I love using metaphors, similes, etc for poems.... This one took an odd turn...
All feedback is welcome!
Dear Space Adventurer,
Don't forget to catch the stars,
To fluff the clouds as you would
Your own pillows before rest.
Sprinkle stardust on our noses,
Build our dreams from rocks on Mars,
Glide across the Milky Way,
Meet imaginations at misbeliever's nest.
Weave galaxies to our dreamcatchers,
To prove beauty's not far,
Parted ways in planet; lives,
The night finally merged, coalesced.
Lay us to sleep in the Moon's craters,
Constellations sewn with yarn,
Cloak us in with sunrays,
Astro routines on repeat, Earthlings at its crest-
All feedback is welcome!
He's not what you think,
And he pretends you know.
The more he confiscates the worry,
The more it seems to show.
He's walking around the lies,
As they pile against his skin.
So at night; he'll break the doors,
And flood out what's within.
Pressing the lock into his throat,
He glides the key straight to his heart.
Stop the plane in his head,
Before it can depart.
He's convinced this plain is unwelcome,
Underlying a helpless glow.
Where will he live? Will he survive?
Does anyone actually know?
------------------------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
#ml
Cautiously, we're tied together, but that doesn't mean I'll be scared forever. With blotted thoughts you smeared my logic, blurred my memories and mixed them toxic. And honestly, I'm dying out, you smothered me with my own doubt. And as I drown, remember me, for all the things I couldn't be. Copycat, I'm losing here, and all you've done is uncover fear, you made me evil; illogical, and now I know you don't care at all. Do you make the desperate cries, logical to my demise? Involuntary refracts this soul, can you place back what you stole
from me?
--------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!
My corner piece of mind,
is all that I can find,
when i look for a reason,
to pass this unhealthy treason,
so that my heart might realign.
Confinement is refined,
along a static spine,
my body's so warm and yet I'm freezing,
at times I sit, dealing with being,
each thought of mine is fined.
I need a change of season,
that can give me just one reason,
to take me up, to show me blankness,
is not a faithless shed from clearness,
nor a sign that you have weakened-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Cracked lips proved that she
Had dried out all her organs
Just to fill her eyes-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
His brittle whispers swirl about, streak the night, and pierce his doubt.
Wounds of applying silence him, acts of society complying him.
He is worthy. Or is he not?
He ponders on that quite a lot.
Collared shirts and clotting words, deciding color and colliding worlds.
Copycat, you're my paradox.
Parallel streams wash onto a scene of your discomfort;
counting your days to the last decimal. You protect her words
to the final syllable.
Did you fill her bones with residue of his speech?
Or clean his heart from a separate creek?
-----------------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
I'm living in my mind,
walking a road I have paved.
Listening to the pounding,
of my heart that can't be saved;
an empty hole I had caved,
long before my journey started,
long before my hope strained.
Waiting for a fleeting step,
wishing for a second thought,
but still emptiness lurks,
where the love had fought,
from how the voices talked.
I'm waiting for a different place,
of what my mind is not.
A saddened memoir,
that spoke forgotten loss.
I'm falling deeper down,
where all the pain was washed,
and the guilt caught.
In a hidden valley of emotion,
of punishing thoughts.
Still I'm walking onward;
following the road.
People told me to hold caution,
for it should not be condoned.
I can't call it my own,
because this road that I am taking,
can never be my home--
An older poem fixed.
All feedback is welcome!
My pain is not a poem,
my poetry isn't poetic.
It's cryptic and a message,
cutting up and breaking
branches. Comprehensive;
my poems are suicidal, files of
medications and prescriptions
are seemingly all my mind
can write. Jumping to conclusions
and indenting my addictions,
inflicting this confliction, convictions
I don't mention. Those rhymes that
I have wrote; it was the drowning as I broke,
a broken draft of notes, that sing:
 "you'll never learn to float,"
Acid, or is it water?  
I'm hoping for the latter,
well I guess it never mattered,
years doubled and I'm sadder.
When does it get better?  
When do I get better?  
I guess it never will, and I'm
home but I'm not here,
I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck,
and all my heart
can pump is tears-
All feedback is appreciated and welcome!
Cypress grow along
my touch; venture out beyond
my forehead; seize it

Their needle points pierce
my eardrums, and silence is
all they've ever heard

From me-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Humanity flourished the gardens,
IVs replenish dehydrated seeds. She dug
through soil, with carmelizing fingernails to ****
a flood of vapored veins, flowers wilted in twisted
beauty. She held onto bruising stems and curling leaves,
just to abandon a husk in undetected love. Its carcass left
in black and blue, burgundy residue slathers pale petals.
Jewels lay at the Dahlia's crest, beads of ruby sold at the
cost of swelling mischeif. She's a mistress to demons; slaves
to the halo, obeying life within silver wings, crafting a
prolonging Death-
All feedback is welcome!
He had a paper maché heart,
and weekly, it was layered again
with more glue, protecting him.
And one day, it completely snapped in two,
he tried so hard to be free.
Now his heart is mazed in crumbles,
and he's lost in the debris-
All feedback is welcome and deeply appreciated!
He slipped too many times for it to be accidental,
Gurgling underwater; and sinking from the vessel.
He too, had supplied the deaths aboard the deck,
Where drowning and breath paddled; all atop his neck.
Do you know his struggle, until you've met the sea?
Where fish swim past on their way, and you clamber just to breathe.
Sputtering on bubbles, his exhaling's a crusade,
But please don't feel bad for him, that's just an average day-
All feedback is welcome and appreciate!!:)
The thuds in my chest stopped being my heart a long time ago-
my feelings ceased,
and maybe me,
the initial person I was,
is knocking on my ribs
begging for freedom.
Throughout all the voices in my head,
hers is the lowest,
getting tangled in with all the
killers that took her,
torturing her until she's nothing but a headstone.
You don't see it,
but I do,
how I open my mouth to speak,
and she's accepted I just won't accent my words the way she used to.
My disappointment tore up your eyes,
as you saw the person I was
formed by a web of lies I loved to string up,
and tried to pretend I wasn't struggling to
get out-
All feedback is welcome
I wanted to do something emotional, I hope this conveys that.
Feathers form to dust,
Its white now to a gray,
I wish I'd grown my trust,
Before it broke in days.
Peace flies past my windows,
What I wish I could've become,
Instead; I melted in my pillows,
And missed the migration of the Doves.
Soaring fragments to recovery,
Yet I clipped my wings,
Died in winter too suddenly,
I forgot how my ears would ring.
Don't confuse my plucked torture,
With choices led to this,
I couldn't choose; nor move further,
As I dropped towards the abyss.
Don't confuse my voice with pity,
As it folds under tormented sedation,
My feet seem to be slipping.....
What happened to the migration?
-----------------------------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!:)
I oddly enough did some research just for this poem, so the doves (and migration thing) would be somewhat accurate.
It's about a person who forgets happiness all their life, and the sadness takes over.
I sat along this opened window,
wishing to escape your empty home.
Yet, you will never archive my peace,
You're clogging up my bones.
Sadly in your breath stung darkness,
I knew this house was my prison,
when this home stayed dark as night,
after the sun had risen.
You ignored my pleas for leaving,
and left a window open.
I'll escape as I've pled before,
if only I could focus.
Yet you knew what I could do,
as you stared into my past.
You closed the window with a smirk,
and said you felt a draft-
Funny back story, I made this a couple months back after watching a cartoon.
Two dogs are competing to get someone to go to their gym.
One places their hands on the open window sill,
and the other calmly reaches over saying "I think I feel a draft,"
slamming the window on his fingers.
I don't know, I'm weird. It made me think, and I made this. :)
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
I sat along a sandy pier, letting the wind engulf my core. I've been hoping for a sign of life on the sky above me, smothered by clouded pain. Brandished marks of what I've done, and what I never could. I can't surface the ocean, my soul jumped in months ago, but my body stayed, besieged. A constant reminder that's creaking over these foggy eyes, smoke that covers every inch to my mind, and has gathered my feelings to sail with it. I wish, I beg, some form of water will wash over me, a scarred resemblance of freedom. Yet I'm still motionless, continuously searching in outvoted grasps for the waves. Extending my hands for the high tides that everyone else can swim, yet I'm sitting here, I never learned how-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
If you'd notice, you could see the way he lost his mind,
shattered on the tile floor he donates to. The coats of bandages
that soaked right through. You can feel the lack thereof in effort;
the edge in his tone after each suicide joke he makes daily.
I'm not saying you should be the one to save him, or that it's
your fault, all I'm saying is that the signs were there,
and you didn't notice for the sake of "I'm doing better now."
Maybe we become denial, or numb to the stone cold facts in
front of us. We shouldn't side with anger because it's easier;
rather lend a hand to someone lower than us in the hopes
you'll raise the rock-bottom people and awareness that this
effects more than obviously-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!

I feel like we should check up on our friends, and lend a hand, whether they say they're okay or not. Offer help and just a friends,it can do wonders.
Writer's block again,
and from return; my heart descends.
A knock, at the door?
What are they here for?
Hiding in the floors, the deaths
of my enemies,
a funeral of my thoughts,
and they were meant to stay away.
Yet you wished them here,
just so you can write them.
And they want you near,
so you can recite them.
Insightful, isn't it?
You need to invite them in,
and this time; they'll only stay
for the titles and poetry, no.
You're much too confident
that you can kick them out,
you need them;
and they want you.
Next evacuation;
hopefully you'll choose
yourself,
but we know you never
do-
I kick out my demons, and they get back in every time. I hate it.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Fifty ropes tied, I balance, but I
Am not a balanced person anymore.
I am not a happy person anymore. I
Left the chemicals my body needed
Underneath ***** nails and screeching skin. Let me out.
Ropes, you know you'll win. I fell six times, the seventh
Endured it's wind willingly.

I am not a lucky person. I broke seven times, I have a
knack at being me, and I don't want that.
So I'll let you use me, maybe you'll
yield the cars and wield a blade
that'll slash the tires, not my heart.
Not his skin. I'm tired of liars and killers
inside me, they must abide me, and
I must obey them. I can't convey them,
or they'll condemn me.
Help me-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Copycat, collect the nectar,
it will optimize your splendor.
Grasping it by the gallons,
drinking poison, immune, callous,
to the pain you aligned, and profusely measured.

Fixated on this peeling label,
bend it back, are you able,
To contain symptoms as they surface?
Written down as toxic in cursive,
a sign of recovery crowned as 'fatal'

Copycat, take your weapons,
along the speckled crimson as logical 'sessions'.
Brim the shell, or remain hollow?
Graphic truth is hard to swallow,
unseen pain is being reflected-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
I wanted to do some form of rhyming, but the emotion had to stay so I know the poem is a little odd.
With bamboo husks scattered,
My last bones shattered.
We mourn a loss of bliss,
Draped in fear learnt to dismiss,
I call for all to gather.

The stalks once in my heart,
Intertwined; and broke apart.
I never knew how weak I'd gotten,
As my glacial mind defrosted,
And from within; resilience departed.

My thoughts cannot grow,
Pierced by what I do not know.
I'm getting colder,
I am not a soldier,
I'm a victim to the blow.

As the last bit of me was hollowed out,
I spoke the words of hope through my mouth:
"I will learn to accept the pain,
Rather than soaking it in my veins,
I'll filter it to the ground."
--------------------------------------
I've been looking up what things symbolize feelings, and I've been so excited to write with them.
Apparently, (as far as I've read) bamboo is a symbol of strength in China. I just feel like weakness is such a common emotion, and it takes so much to grow out of.
I hope this isn't confusing.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
I ventured among a forest,
With aisles of defiant trees,
A vile scene forseen,
Before my thoughts shrieked in my chest.
A blended, vented ground,
So idle, centered, severe,
Life fends off genetic fear,
The leaves seared me profound.
Broken branches tied to family,
Constantly pounding,
Painfully counting,
I'm bottled up daily.
I pray, tear me apart,
Violence is penned out less,
But it's more a silent mess,
When it bound, and disposed my heart-
Another older poem, fixed up and redone.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!
~

Frayed; my halo drops,
My wings pivot from heaven,
Down, like their eyes did

~
An old haiku fixed up!
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Four walls bounce the echo
of my loneliness onto pages.
Line to line, so perfectly aligned
to the capacity of my heart,
these chambers inside became
more than human tonight.
Blatant fears converted to disappear
and relapsed into words,
augmented and rarely heard,
I've endured so much,
yet still, I can't make sentences
this dire, and I'm tired
of trying-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
#ml
An ocean splashed the sky;
clouds little boats for angels to
reel in stars upon will; their gills
glow for human eyes to scope-out
and connect the dots, one by one.

The moon a forest for the alien
gophers; burrowing amongst its
craters, feasting on passing comets,
and yet; we fail to see.

A rainbow, for the giants after their
grievances, sprout a smile on
mile-long faces, as the days got harder
to stay sunny.

Drear for the shadows, the little
rats of the night, hissing at morn
and hurting, shrinking as
golden lasers black-
All feedback is appreciated!
I'm engulfed by freesias,
But I collapse onto this distrusting road.
Because it's easier to close my eyes,
And I hope no cars swallow my shadow.
I may wake upon devouring brightness,
For I can't rise with a hand from hope.
But I promise it's not that lovely sunrise,
I shield my eyes by falling this low.
Headlights seize my pupils,
Attending the drizzled ray of sunbeams.
My fear surely raised me this high,
The light in my eyes may not be what they seem-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
(Btw, the flower freesia means trust, in case this poem was confusing)
Added to the ******,
Two tears flow alike.
Washing, dashed away,
Demons play 'Armored Knights'-
Down the drain, floods the worry,
Unworthy until royalty courses.
They've attempted sieging you,
Galloping on horded horses.
Like monsters inside out,
Their acts slashed you private.
Forever cut up in armor,
A hero proclaiming violence-
An old poem fixed up
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
We should start at the first time,
Where things got bad and moved untied.
I thought you were fine, turns out I was wrong;
All I can do now, is hope you hear this one.
The saddest part is your death matured me,
And everyone thought I acted immaturely.
Everyone thought that I felt nothing,
When all the grief did was bring a taste of apathy.
It was sour in my mouth, I think youth got replaced,
Memories I had of you monitored my brain.
I didn't only lose you, but stopped the parts of me
That you cared so much for, and I hate what this means.
To stay low, to stay away from home.
I regret never hearing from you on the phone.
I'm still alive, how did I last?
How are you doing? I just wanna ask-
I wish I could have another conversation with my grandpa. Just one.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
This Earth is not a home to me,
I wanna be greater in the things I cannot be,
and we bleed the same blood,
so don't go off about oddities
because you bleed as red as me.
Flawed little things,
I need to detest my unspoken heart.
Solemn beats and unworthy feet,
it's a fraud to what it's supposed to be.
If I was bluer,
I'd be happier than the
nomadic veins I cannot see.
Left without a trace,
leaving none than a face,
and something that reads so ominous.
Something between the lines isn't right.
Oh, it's such a scare,
what can hide right past my hair.
The nightmares won't wear off,
my wired brain differs than awake ones.
Sleeping from exhaustion in yourself isn't sleeping,
and living because it's too hard to die isn't living.
It's simply being; and being can't be human,
it's quite pitiless to breathe expired air,
and put a heart around unbarring care-
All feedback is deeply appreciated!
#ml
Can you see my eyes, the way they evenly are red?
Puffed and slightly tearful still. Did you know it made me
tired to walk out of an empty room again, pretending to just
find something that was in my hand. Well I guess I've never lied,
I truly lost something every time you didn't  notice my breath was choking me. It's so hard to focus with shaking hands and detached eyes. I feel defeated every night I sleep. Maybe I'm over dramatic, maybe I just make things worse purposely. But you telling me I have no problems? That, my friend, hurts the most-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Black surges, forges piling emotion,
Foraging, attaining such predicted erosion.
Color the rubies to a diluted amber,
Brittle, dripped gems are toxic, I clamber
To the lamp as to see my implicit devotion.

Vitals ascend, and I can't perceive
This motionless forfeit I often receive.
Aid is essential, it holds potential,
To cure this conflicted, addicted vessel.
My heart on my sleeve, I'm undeceived.

I implore to explore, as breath, I leave,
So close to dying, I'm on the eve
Of darker clothing, and flowers to family,
Hallucinate my abnormalities.
Yet somehow, I am still on my feet-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
I had the moon captured in the cryptic palms of my hands.
So when I cried, and covered my face, it'd evoke what I attempted forgetting. I'd be woken with a message, I revoked the promise to leave my heart still. I dipped my fingers into a grasp of conflict, hidden so long,
the pout on my lips dripped a stricken blue. My pupils left fractured, remaining fragments detached themselves from my absence of reality. So much downpour, it started eroding my skin raw, swollen down to bone; stung from the salty ocean washing
over the flesh still united with my body, lifting myself off my bed.
Adapting back to living itself, I recaptured my eyesight, and recited my laugh to what it used to
sound like. Before collapsing again into this everlasting painful
existence, I took my brilliance to cast a vicious smile.
  My persistence was inconsistent, I lost the way of keeping my heart idle-
This poem is older too! I went to fix it and it put it as new, so here you go I guess
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Acts of illusion,
Plotting the ways to be killed,
Dulled her sway in life-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Hey, I need your help.
Eager yellings have got me over-thinking,
linking what I think with pain,
I'm on the brink of breaking.
Each incision to my brain,
has never really completely faded.
Onto reality, formality presents us to hide everything.
Wrongly suggesting,
we'd be better investing
imperfect perfections-
I've been working on this for awhile now.
Everyone is different, And us, as a society, has said we've accepted that, but we really haven't . We only accept the differences WE understand.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
As I decompose, don't decipher the
depths of my pain. I was indecisive, in life and
death, defining my problems deformed my
whole purpose. And maybe I was too delicate
for these demised decisions, deflecting and
deluding recovery, instead; I delve into these
delusions I'm too scared to deny in my head, its
density dented me, depleted my happiness,
and feeds off my doubt, all inside of me-
I get so fascinated with one letter, I don't  know why, and odd poems like these come to be.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Tell me I'm not this. The blue began to flood
inside a room once painted black. Tell me I don't
see this. The orb of morning peering its start right to
my eyelids that can't even close. Tell me I don't hear
this. Birds chirping for sunrise, playing lightly as my
lullaby. Tell me I'm dreaming. My leg still twitches,
seven in the morning, because I'm afraid I'll lose myself
before dawn. Shedding emotion in fast waves of flight,
tell me I didn't run through time, making stars out
of daylight. Orange in the sky, and not from shy
headlights in insomniac cars. Yellow, making its fellow
opening for my uncomforted sleep, not a nightlight like before,
no. Tell me I'm not this.
All feedback is welcome
-


I'll say this to you;
Poetry's my home, and I'm
Still an intruder-





-
I know it's small, so I hope y'all still like it.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Kaliedoscope colors, shaped as a rectangle outline of my door-
and I can't go out and see the beauty of it. A gray room,
with a blue face, laced into rushing in another pumping day.
Provoke the guilt, wilted meaning every breathing being has.
I'll leave someday, in someway, maybe not this moon fall,
but I know I can't live, thoroughly at all-
All feedback is welcome.
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