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Sleepz Oct 2021
you were never taught to love,
therefore you dont know how to give it.
you were never shown love,
therefore you cant recognize it when you see it.  

love is like seeing a stranger,
except you only see this stranger in the mirror,
you dont know yourself and no one has ever known you.  

rarely will you say the words "I love you",
because most of the time it comes out as
a desperate gasp for air,
as if punched in the ribs with the feeling of having the wind knocked out of you.  

you're broken,
and you wonder if you will ever make it out.  
everything you've ever known,
is now foreign because it was all constantly taken from you ever since you can remember.  

could you ever have protected yourself?
Oh, my poor broken soul..

I bring you the cure,
so that you can grow once again.  
I cannot rebuild you,
because you were never brought forth.
instead I will create you,
and I will teach you.  
I will build love in you,
and show you what it is to smile.

My poor broken soul,
you have such beautiful eyes.  
the look of painful happiness
everytime your gaze is set.
as if you were a rabbit,
coming out in the daylight,
looking up to the sky wondering if that hawk has spotted you.
but you look beautiful from up here.

but it wasnt like that before was it?
the happiness?
is that new to you?
did you ever experience joy?

it hasnt been often--where you could be let out of your cage.  
where you could explore and be free and know yourself as you.
im sorry,
I wish I could pick up those pieces.

but instead, I will free you from this cage.
your wings will spread
you will be the hawk,
and the animals your prey.
instead of being afraid
you will be feared by all the evil in this earth.
your head will be crowned
with rings on every finger

as He once said,
"I will make your enemies a footstool for your feet ti rest."

you will know what its like, to rest your head on this field of lilies.  
under the tree in the shade,
enjoying every sunset,
and the view of the ocean.

that smile is my favorite place,
and I will make sure it will never be erased.
You're my island,
And alone with you,
Is where I want to stay.

I love you.  
my beautiful, soul.
Sleepz Jun 2019
Its frustrating,
Isn't it, my love?
The feeling of uncertainty,
The feeling of having to find someone for you.
Has your prince charming not yet appeared,
To save you from this wicked spell?
The wasted time.
The special feeling of getting to know them,
While your heart bares the fear of them failing you miserably,
Or even you failing them.

Are you not happy on your own, my love?
Do those scars remind you of the darkness
Awaiting you as you hit your head on the
Pillow as you fall deep asleep?
Into the depths of the ocean you go,
A treasure chest awaiting to be found.
But my tank doesnt take me that deep, my love.
Id drown trying to find you,
And you couldnt meet me halfway,
Even if you wanted to.

Even if I did find you,
Will you be easy to open,
Or will I have to pry you?
Will a lock be in existence,
If so will you give me a key?
Or will I find the need to break the rusted
Old lock.

But when I open you, would you be empty.
With no treasures left for me to find of you?
Will the box you belong to be damaged
From those who made the far effort,
To only sell your jewels and let the admiration of them go to waste?

A tsunami hit,
My love has been washed ashore.
So many have the map to that says the "X" marks the spot,
And they beat me to it,
Havent they, my love?
Sleepz Dec 2018
Perhaps, as this epitome of beauty slowly progresses,
he will land on his back to the ground,
Sinking with a warm fuzz that surrounds him,
fuel that crawls throughout his thoughts, imaginations,
emotions - To the point where he cannot help himself but to think of her.

And he will be shocked as if a car were
To crash into him while he put down his guard.

And someday she'd fall into that same cushion,
Perhaps she will envy his smile,
Laughter, soft spots - that were once hardened.  

His armor dropped, laid down as well as his sword.
She thinks to herself:
Is he aware that any small attack could be the cause that he die?

Despite all of this,
she is a warrior of her own mind,
Emotions - scaring off anything that threatens the one thing she believes to have:
Her dignity,
her heart;
She has her guard held heavy enough to detect any virus coming by.
She's her own immunity.
She knows deep within her,
It would be the best love they both would
Have ever experienced.

To the point where the world could stop,
And the enemy succeed in beheading the king,
With no king,
They'd be content,
They'd have everything under both their feet,
As they sit on the throne.

The castle walls would be the best guard they have achieved.
Long poem but worth the read!
Sleepz Dec 2018
In times like these,
during my sweet night,
the time young humans fall asleep while hearing lullabies.
When the moon shines over,
Beautiful and at times catastrophic.
Exposing, and at the same time hiding.
Where it spills its light at the same time causing shadow.

My sweet night,
can be indecisive.
Sometimes full of light, glowing, and showing its beauty
other times at a crescent,
as if the moon were meant to be hidden
but is chained in its curse,
that causes these waves to crash in it's attempt to escape its
duty in covering the sun from its light.

My sweet night takes her time,
gently appearing in the sky in the form of her choice.

As the light pierces through,
my sweet night welcomes me,
she claims she will stay for a while,
but will leave when the time comes for her to sleep.

The clock ticks,
but that's okay because it's that time of year again.

The one night that the sun takes it's lazy doze.
The sun whose light shines in it's obligatory state,
demanding its victims to rush with tasks that
shape the globe.

As I lay me down to sleep,
and I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
It finally comes that time of night
that I am able to stare at my ceiling.

Although my sweet night will leave,
she will still be there as the day comes by.

My sweet sweet night
Sleepz Nov 2018
Creativity (Midnight Freewrite)

Once upon a time, my mind was blank.
Could I finally be sane
from the feelings ingrained in my so often flooded mind?
This ocean pushes the small grains of sand as though keeping
them all at one place,
the inability to crawl back to where they once were.
Accompanied by many,
yet purified throughout the constant washing due
to clashing of waves.
The stubborn rocks give in,
once enormous,
they've become wearisome from being pummeled over and over by the ruthless ripples,
eating away mercilessly like piranhas.
The rocks begin to deteriorate like my wretched nightmares,
as if it was inevitable for them to reciprocate this way.

I think to myself

Could I for once create something beautiful without the taint
of distortion my pessimistic perspective brings upon my cursed
Or is the lust after such a wicked dream be looked down
upon by my insides which take control of me?

Perhaps one should blame his imaginations
for considering such a change.
Imaginations which were once banished.
Ones leading to joy and happiness,
when one was once optimistic to the sun and the trees,
the butterflies in his stomach that
cause him to day dream.
The butterflies which took him away from the struggles, and constant agony.
The one that drove him away from the thoughts
of his uncles,
and made him believe they would be there as he woke.

The kind of imagination that
One must pinch himself to see if he's awake.

But why do I feel?

                                                                I once had the power to dream,
                                                 To think such miracles were real.
                             I dared to think there was such a thing.

                                                     My creativity got the best of me.
Sleepz Nov 2018
Father forgive me for these dandelions continue to grow,
thoughts in the mind spread like seeds.
Truthfully in the garden they ought not exist.
Reminds me of particular humans fallen,
and inflict a stain in humanity.

Can we mow them as the dandelions are purposed to be?
It's quite possible yet that will only plant another seed.
It is impossible to cease this breed.
Can you teach humans?
Sadly, a dog can only learn to sit and jump.
As a dog pants, so will these humans behave in this way.

They say there is a distinct difference between humans and animals,
humans can build houses, talk and use money.
Humans just know how to ruin themselves well.

Jesus Christ, Martin Luther King Jr.

Saw the problem with humanity.


Yet shockingly,
We have found a way to make equality bad.
At least we can agree on that.
Equally rotting away,
we come to the realization even those in our culture deserve
to be executed.

Can you hug your brother your mother your sister?
Aunt, uncle, grandparents?
Or are you too busy fighting those around you
only selective to a few who toxify you?
And you call those your best friends?

My garden,
Is full of Lilly's,
Rose's filled with thorns
Grass that pains me.
Hard to maintain,
water and love.
My family is the hardest to deal with but the same as a garden it undeniably needs love, attention, forgiveness.

Refrain from being the dandelion.
  Sep 2018 Sleepz
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
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