Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Carve out a chunk,
the happiness hunk.
The one that stays clear
of all of the junk.

Without this fine piece,
one is never in least,
content with ones self.
A man without peace.

Take out the side,
with ego and pride.
That part is the worst,
Just set that aside.

Believe when they tell us,
it too, makes us jealous.
When envy is stricken,
a man over-zealous.

Cut out a slice,
and anger's the price.
Lets get rid of that,
it's not very nice.

See, this ones a cage,
where bad memories age,
and morph into new forms.
A man full of rage.

Punch out the holes,
that sadness controls.
It can be so hard,
when charred into souls.

Aside from the rest,
but, nested in best.
the sadness takes hold,
and a soul is depressed.

The thing that most feel,
has taken the wheel,
is fear in itself.
Although, its not real.

Fear is insane,
it confuses the brain,
into thinking its there.
A mans shadow of pain.
©Kyle Fisher
 Oct 2015 Facy Meemster
Leah Anne
I once lived a night when shooting stars rain down from the sky until morning.
My sight blurred to pastel ball of lights that filled the streets outside my window.
My feet itch to silently walk that empty road,
My eyes beaming with a desire to keep everything inside the pockets of my shirt.

Everything was perfect until the lighting struck, truth carved deep in my skin,
Screaming in a deafening tone that all of it was just a dream.
...
September 23, 2015. 1:24 am
Girl, the passion between us is insurmountable
Nothing but fire and desire
With every tender kiss
We take each other higher
Nothing but a torrid tale
When we lay next to each other
Let us enjoy the bumpy ride
And make this last forever
I try to wear you once in a while,
     making sure if you fit the same
     as the last time i checked

But then again, whenever i notice
     the apparent worn off, tired seams
     from the fabric that was once our love,
     I go back again and sew them together,

Carefully threading the gaps back
     where they once were sewn tightly shut,
     left with no space for inadequacy,
     hardly any place for scarcity of love.

My misguided, solitary efforts then proved
     a love with tenuous and delicate clothing
     that has misplaced its capacity
     to wear out storms and excessive usage.

Back there is where i find
     that not everything burnt out
     could rekindle its flame.
I am worn flannels
from the boys section
of the second hand shop.
Long sleeves covering
the seven years
worth of scars.
Seven years
battling mental illness.
I am paint stained carpet
and broken down shoes.
A pair for the different person
that i decide to be
everyday.
I am an adventurer
trying to find a place to call home.
Late night bonfires
and the starlit sky.
I am who i am
and most of all
I am proud.
 Oct 2015 Facy Meemster
Tysheanna
The more success I get the greater my life get. The more people start to hate, the more love I give the more people don't want to take it, the more I start learning my mistakes and fixing them the more people start to judge so what should we do? I guess do nothing or do something but if I do or don't people still judge me for the right and the wrong.
Next page