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 Nov 2016 Matt Hews
Liam Haldek
Life is a journey
and Death is our destination?

Always just be yourself
but follow the examples of others?

Never give up
but also learn to let go?

The sky is the limit
but the rules must be followed?

What is the Truth
in this lie we call Society,
this delusion we have crafted,
*where the rich run the show?
((Sorry for the edit.))
 Nov 2016 Matt Hews
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

------------------------------------------------
my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
I don't want to fight it.
Joy pops in just to give you perspective
When sorrow rears its ugly head again.
Loneliness is being alone
And the absence of people
And the absence of love
And the absence of purpose
And the absence of hope
It is empty.
Loneliness will keep you company
Which is as ironic as it gets.
It holds you almost as tight as sadness does
And it's hard to fight against their grip
It's tiring
It's difficult
It's not worth it.
It hurts, it takes, it is relentless.
I don't want to fight it anymore.
I don't want to force a smile
I don't want to convince myself to get out of bed
I don't want to struggle to go outside
I don't want to fight it anymore.
"Just breathe" isn't good enough
"It'll get better" won't do it
"Be strong" doesn't help.
Crying is cathartic
But also addictive.
Nobody knows how to ask for help
And even if they do
It's hard
To admit that you are so far gone
To the people that you care about.
And what would help?
I don't want to fight it anymore.
I'm battle-worn
Bruised
Fatigued
Scarred
Bleeding
Trembling
Moaning in pain
Baring my soul for all to see but hiding it behind my heart.
It's hard to see through tears
It's hard to speak with a throat so closed
It's hard to walk when you don't want to go
It's hard to stay when you feel suffocated
How do you stop when you're so far in?
Where do you go?
What do you do?
What does a beating heart mean?
That you are alive?
That you feel?
I don't want to fight it anymore.
Nights are the hardest,
Not because it's dark
But because the world slows down
It doesn't bring you places
Or bring people to you
It tells you to rest
But that is when the demons creep in
Whispering
Telling you that you're not good enough
Telling you what's wrong with you
Playing on your heart
Tearing it apart
Playing with your thoughts
Tugging them this way and that.
Rocking back and forth
Pulling at your hair
Biting your fingers
Anything to distract from the pain in your chest
I don't want to fight it.
 Nov 2016 Matt Hews
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
Everyday we go to school with the weight of the world on our shoulders
We walk through the halls with the weight of untold worries, hurried decisions and quiet stress
We sit in class and wait with the weight of unknown answers
We talk through lunch with the weight of social pressures
We go home with the weight of too many books on our back
We go in the house with the weight of the school day
We do our homework with the weight of an impending due date
We eat dinner with the weight of dysfunctional family conversation
We go to sleep with the weight of the entire day on our minds
We wake up with the weight of restless sleep in our eyes
And we do it all again with the weight of the knowledge that we will be caught in this loop for years to come
 Oct 2016 Matt Hews
Liam Haldek
They deceive us
When they say
"Hold onto your dreams,
Never let them go."

Because they never
Tell us what to do
When you dream
An Impossible Dream.

Such a dream
Can never occur,
Not because you lack the ability,
But because it would defy reality.

Some can learn to let go
Of such dreams.
Yet the cursed who cannot
Live tortured lives of unfulfillment.

So tell me now,
You elderly, supposedly wise:
What am I to do
With my Impossible Dream?
It's almost funny how many people see this poem, then tell me to still not give up.
 Oct 2016 Matt Hews
Liam Haldek
You look at me,
head bent, shoulders down
face contorted by a frown,
tears barely held at bay,
yet you still ask, "Are you okay?"

As my head turns towards you
and a facade of a smile
returns once more
to hide my pain
I think of a million things to say.

I could tell you of my sorrows,
my many weighing burdens.
I could relate all my anger and hate,
not of others but rather of myself.
I could pin you down under the mound
of torturous experiences I live through daily.

Instead, I lie.
With practiced, fake motions
I look you in the eye
and begrudgingly utter
two words that disarm
your insincere concern.

"I'm fine."
 Oct 2016 Matt Hews
Liam Haldek
Me
 Oct 2016 Matt Hews
Liam Haldek
Me
My mind, corroded
by an internal storm,
more fierce than raging sand,
more dampening than a whirling tempest,
more numbing than the biting snow.

My eyes, like dull milky orbs,
faintly reflecting that
which they see,
yet hiding what truly
lies within.

My heart, like half-burnt coal;
its exterior light and warm,
but beneath the fragile shell
lies its true form,
an insensate lump of darkness.

This is me.
This is who I am.
I do not fight it
as this cruel, harsh world
needs people like me.

For without us,
who stare daily into the faces
of anger, loathing and despair,
how would the rest of you
know to appreciate what you have?
 Oct 2016 Matt Hews
Marissa
Here I am lying awake
Waiting to make another mistake
You make me feel like I'm flying
But what's the use of trying?
You don't make me feel alone
So maybe my heart is made of stone
I want it to be you and me
But there's other things that you could be.
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