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My periods turn to semicolons
My suicide notes to poetry
My goodbyes became hellos
The blades turn to sunflowers
And the bullets, a rose
My heart still is broken
But the pieces have been found
Death isn’t for me anymore
What is, in the here and now
I still don’t feel enough
But I am alive
And that’s enough to say
Today is not the day I die.
 Aug 21 Lucas Grant
bess
I never understood how someone could drink

How someone could throw away their life for a single sip of whiskey

How they consumed what they knew could **** them

But then I'd lay in bed for hours on end

And those hours became days

Days became months

Months became years

A never-ending cycle of torment

And some way

Somehow  

I understood
Nocturnal dreams of midnight fantasies
neon flowers alongside scented lily pads
Rippling clouds, crossings on the moon
magnetic fields of bluing, yes I see

Angels flying, flitting round the globe
calling over stars to light the path
Magistrates of heaven glorious chants
soft and mellow pastel, like the sea

Beatific vocals soft as voices of the earth
enigmatic secrets of a society, un-known  
Cooing doves, fragrances of evening musk  
Divine Beings attired in Elysian clothes like Deity.

— The End —