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If my ability,
to emphasize,
gets lost to some degree,
Pain's euthanized,
Numb deep inside me.
 2h Emma
n
a cataract of emotion overflowing.
there’s no end in sight.
no wet floor signs.
no life jackets.

i’ve always had a problem pouring too much.
spilling my guts on the floor,
making a mess of it all,
waiting to see how far i could possibly -
fall.

i don’t mean to
i didn’t mean to

my cup is empty and still it never ends.
the water on the floor is turning to ice.
it’s getting colder and colder -
i’m running further and further.

i don’t mean to
i didn’t mean to

i’ll keep trying to run.

-
The kiss of the man,
The scar on her head,
She saw the darkness in her.
The wrist that she cuts,
The wall that she punched,
She didn't speak that much.
The love she gave was never enough,
All she ever was her body,
Not her soul, not her heart.
Poem i made in psych ward
 9h Emma
Liana
Nothing is ugly
Like nothing is beautiful

These are mere ideas
Just concepts really
Opinions

So when we could easily be
A beautiful concept
We choose to use the word
"Ugly"

Both are wrong
Both are right

You decide
Which one you call yourself
In the mirror tonight
Just today I heard a girl looking in the mirror in the bathroom and calling herself ugly and a few minutes later girls called her pretty. She didn't know. And honestly, both are wrong, and both are right.

(This note was written by a special grain of sand)
Nature finds a new design
Repeats it endlessly
Out of utter joy
Like a baby
With a new word
I
W
  i
   s
   h
    Y
     o
      u
       W
        o
         u
          l
           d
            L
             i
              s
                t
                 e
                   n
                      M
                         o
                           r
                            e
                              A
                                ­ n
                                   d
                                     Y
                                       e
                                         l
                                          l
                                           L
                                            e
                                             s
                                              s
This looks pretty cool, it's a few minutes late because I was having fun using this poems structure as a cursor rollercoaster. :)
I can’t sleep.
An endless wandering
piano strain
caught between
broken
finger
bones.

She lays
her head
against his
chest
listening
as
ships
sail
across his
heavy heart.

A sad
mourning
wail
of
wind
echoes
in
each breath
he takes.

I hope
that
soon
death will
come
like
hundreds
of arrows
in
the night.
Each aflame
with the
lies
and conceit
of  the
human race.

Only then
will I slumber
content
beneath
the skies
of
moons
and stars.
Glistening in
continuum
with the chorus
of
small voices
and the movements
of the
universe.

A haunting
twisting
melody
that
reminds
us of memories
and their purpose
of nostalgia.
The notes
that
urge
us to go
on.
To hope
when hope
is gone.

Because I can’t
sleep,
I dream
of brokenness
and hopelessness.
A darkness
darker than
the night
disturbs
my unseen
eyes
and billows
beneath my
hair.

I look to them
both,
standing
so close to
the edge,
and I pray
like sweet honey
that
drips from
cultured
lips,
I pray for
them both,

The girl and the boy who haunt my sleepless nights.

I watch
as they
peril
in
my demise,
slowly
my brain
rots away
and
my limbs
deteriorate.

They have
nothing
left
of me.
Only
a fleeting
idea
that nags
at their
consciousness
each footfall
bringing
them farther
from my
soul
and closer to
their empty
air.

It was
like
they too
never existed,
as both
fall
to the
violin
that soundtracks
their never-ending
sorrow.

The girl and the boy who haunt my sleepless nights.

Now we
both
will
slumber
forever
beneath
the moons
and
the
stars
for
eternity
forever
content,
unsatisfied,
restless.
I just can't sleep. No matter what I try. And this haunting album "Memoryhouse" by Max Richter has my mind reeling. It's so overloaded with feelings and emotions I had to write. And this is that result of that.
Here's the link to his album on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6ACE59988DC25193
 18h Emma
Robert
Broken, a dove lay.
Crimson blood stains her wings red.
Surly love was the cause.
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