Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Something here,
Something there,
The evidence is everywhere.
Waves wash over,
Close to fire,
As old bones stir in the mire.
When evil takes the face of man,
Society is left in our hands,
Will we live or die?
We play children's games,
Silver pieces replaced with steel knives,
Can you duck from the goose?
They turn the mob loose,
Suddenly the waves close in again,
Close to the fire of a torch.
Stand to fight,
Or lay to die,
Give it time.
If there is scandal,
None will be found tonight.
You have to let go and not hold on
When life's past has cut you to the bone
Cast away the anchors
grasp
Cut the ropes , drop sails on the mast
Check the weather that the sunrise casts
Let go , Let go ,
. . . the ugly past
My eyes
Used to run exactly like a faucet would
Crying because of every bruise
Head damage
People hitting my head
And calling it a day
Daily
I would trip
Fall
And land on my head
Push
Shove
And land on my head

Every Amber alert I would hear
Would make me cry
Turning on the dials
And tears would be pouring out of my eyes
Because I thought
I would be the next victim
To be kidnapped
Scared to leave the house
Scared to leave my mother

I thought the same about thunderstorms
How the lightning
It would possibly catch the house on fire
When I was sleeping
Or electrocute me when I'm touching a window

Seems to say
Times have changed
Years have gone on
I'm still the same faucet
But now just a ruined one

Drops of water
Leaving the faucet
On unprompted moments
And some
Wouldn't even come out
On the most tear-threatening
Situation
As if the faucet has the mind of its own

The faucet
Would turn on
By mere phantoms
Trying to take out the faucet
And warning to make it shatter

Faucet
Made of china-glass
The fragile glass
Was made to be broken one day
And be replaced by another
It's like- 11 pm on a school night and I'm tired. Goodnight.
Start to finish
Flying in
Sequence
Garden of Eden
Biting thee apple
Curtain call
Blue skies
Blossom
Lock in step
Out from
Underneath
It’s time to merge elsewhere
Tomorrow is not promised
Today there are
No guarantees either
Approaching my exit ramp
Pitter patter permeating
Through my bones
A sign of
Things to come
My quiet boredom
May it glisten on repeat
For all eternity
Leave the loud noises behind
As this hyperbaric
Chamber holds
Me still my wheels are turning
I’m ready for my departure
I pray to the man
Upstairs that he will
Catch me if I fall
And wake up in the pearly white
Gates sooner rather then later
Godspeed young man
May all your wishes come true
In the afterlife
It can’t be any worse then it was down here
IF HE CALLS MY NAME… I’M READY TO GO HOME!!! BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF LIVING ON BORROWED TIME… AT LEAST IM HONEST 💯✍️🙏
Never was a girl so pretty
You should see her through my eyes
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
Pessimist
Disregarding
My sentiments or what I fancy  
A quailty of life
That doesn’t seem to hold firm
Ailing me along
Day or night
The object
Not of my desires
X marks
Thee spot
Never ending patterns
A montage of seasons
Like a unsolvable riddle  
Can you tell me
Where exactly I’ve been too lately
Never receding  
Rarely forgiving
******  
A mercenary for hire
Cursing profanities
The outside noises
Pale in comparison
To thee whispering hollows
Of my wicked garden
Perfect illusions
Far from desirable  
More like complacent pillars
Seldomly comfortable
In my own skin
Your opinions
Pale in comparison
To my point of view
In the vacuum of my mind
Deconstructing unrelenting
In irrepressible amounts of guilt
Why can’t I feel like myself
Why must these false pretenses
Flare up
Hold me in positions
That aren’t up to par
Continually stuck in neutral
Flowing echoes
Watching waiting
Hearsay
In the limelight
Winning lotto
Ticket never bought
I would never sell my soul
To the highest bidder
A fools paradise
Is not mine at all
Expired dreams
Fully aware beam me up
Turn the light
Off behind you
Inflated ego not of my liking
No amount
Of fame would suffice
I’m not for sale
Life’s told me it’s overrated
From my vantage point
Has never really
Peaked my trust interest
My genius won’t
Be recognized till
I’m six feet under
If at all
But I’ll be long gone by then
That is up to them to decide
Although my writing
At times
Stops me in a dead sprint
I’m floored by my ability
I just shake my head in amazement
Just a speck
Of dust in this vast sand
A tinny fish
In a big pond
With a voice that more people
Should be paying attention too
But I’m not going to
Hold my breath
Because I’ve been a black sheep
Most of my life
And that suits me just fine
Next page