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D L Smith Aug 29
I hate when you start a conversation, because all I want is to talk to you for hours.

I hate when you say goodbye, because my heart immediately begins to turn sour.

I hate when you look my way, because my soul itself is held within your gaze.

I hate when you laugh out loud, because I’ve never heard a sweeter sound.

I hate when you call me, because I’ll push aside everything that I’m doing.

I hate when you walk away, because my heart tells me to follow after you.

I hate when you let go of my hand, because it feels like part of me is broken.

And most of all I hate you...

Because if you die, then I’m the only half that is left.
D L Smith Apr 9
Every time I try to write, it’s as if parts of me begin to scream no. I don’t blame them either because there isn’t any passion when you don’t know where to go. So for whatever reason I choose to trudge on against my better judgement. Finding myself in this annoyance and self hatred, when this is supposed to be my escape.

When your passions decrease to rations for your mind. What will you do? What should we do when the knock of boredom rings oh so loudly within the day? What will you say? “Well there is nothing to do…” yes how true but the feeling leaves you somewhat blue, doesn’t it?

In such a world of constant entertainment, constant satisfaction… Nothing but stream after stream of mindless indulgence. What can we do… When your child comes and asks you what even is reality, what will you do?

What has life become? What has technology brought us to… Remember when playing outside was something you enjoyed? When you spent hours and hours on the floor playing with your toys. Do you remember? Your imagination has run stale because it could no longer prevail against the world and its devices…

Now your mind cannot stop running, how do you turn it off? Everything flows so much that you can’t even figure out where the valve is. It’s almost like we are drowning, but the water is life itself. Your nose is barely above the surface and your strength is fleeting… What’s the point now that everything has lost its meaning?

Nothing is sacred. Nothing is off limits. Everyone is the same now but everyone wants to be different.  The world makes no sense and in my mind it doesn’t either. Thoughts come and go so quickly as if my head is in the ether. Things used to be clearer, and the world didn’t feel like a prison.

When I started writing, this wasn’t the fantasy that I envisioned.

D. L. Smith 4/9/2019
D L Smith Mar 21
Jealousy is just negativity,
Swirling inside of the mind of a mad man.
Wait no scratch that.
Inside the mind of a sad man.

There isn’t jealousy because he is a bad man,
Just because of what people said, man.

What led him to believe such ridiculousness is the absolute suspicion of his consciousness.

The ambiguous glances that are given can contain some hidden advances. Even some hidden feelings that may be dealing with a heart matter.

And a latter equation to the evasion of the current situation creates bits of annotations THAT JUST MASH TOGETHER QUITE THE AGGRAVATION...

Now now he must be calm, now wouldn’t be the time to rhyme for its a crime to let the mind wonder and ponder the misguided information.

So what shall he do when the glue that binds his heart begins to melt? It’s the same feeling he felt when he watched her leave. The moment would be an eternal pin in his being so there isn’t any wonder that he’s seeing the negative to every picture and every comment. Every like, every second makes him want to ***** until he can no longer bare the vicious cycle of subjection that his own brain is holding him in.

Jealousy is about a sad man.
Jealously is a mad man that can’t win.

D. L. S. 3/20/19
D L Smith May 2018
I’ve held on till it hurts, and then I held on till it bled. I’m to the point of letting go, because I’m only with you in my head.

I wish I could tell you goodbye face to face, I wish I could tell you I love you one last time. Yet most of all I wish, I wish I could stop wishing you were mine.

There never was a chance, never should have been an option. Yet here I find myself debating if there is some concoction to make this all work itself out... And that’s the reality I have to face. The one I can’t seem to understand.

There is no concoction, there is no door. There is only a glass window, no opening to the store. I can window shop all I like, but I can’t afford to pay the price.

Loving you would cost my purpose, keeping you would cost my life.

If I could cut out the memories, if I could put them to the very back of my mind. Still there would be some way that you’d creep back inside.

Sadly, life isn’t that easy, and technology not as advanced. So here I am trying to forget you, and it seems I do not have a chance.

I know deep down that one day I’ll forget you, that the memories will once again slowly fade away. I just have to keep reminding myself, that this is the price that must be paid.

We wouldn’t have worked either way, now that I put my feelings aside. You are too much of a child, and I’m too much of a ride.

So I’ll pray for you once more, and it likely will not be the last. Pray until I forget you, when God helps me give up the past.
Freeverse-ish poetry, aren’t broken hearts the best?
D L Smith May 2017
Slowly but surely I have lost myself.

Sooner or later I'll be someone else.

Because there's a switch I broke long ago.

Leaving my cares aside is all that I know.

After every little scar I have received,

I understand now that I am deceived.

Yet some how I AM RELIEVED.

I have my own way to keep out what they say,

Before it breaks me by the end of the day.

The cares that consumed now mean nothing to me,

The less that I am then the more I am free.

Broken pieces can no longer bleed,

When the dreams are all gone.

My brain is just another seed,

To be planted and created for something to please.

I am nothing more than the things that I use to ease.

All the pain and the blame that they placed on me.

Like I said, in my head, I can only ever be free

If I'm dead, let it spread, I mean nothing to me.

So I may lie by and by because you cannot see.

All the guilt that I bare just because I cannot be.

What I want more than love is to not give a care.

So excuse me my dear if I don't take your hand.

Let me remind myself one simple thing.

The less I care,

The less I'll be.
D L Smith Jan 2017
Obviously there has been some misplaced affection, a slight calculation of misdirection. See there is so much attraction yet your actions tell me you're only looking for attention. Not to mention your constant desire for attention, puts me in a position where I have to make a decision...

You aren't worth the mental condition, the constant strain to make sure you are alright to function, because with you there is no assumptions, especially with your depression.

I won't let it become an obsession that has possession over my mind.

I've got my own distractions, got my own reactions, I have my own complexion, my own limitation.

My own corrections, to every day life.
My own explanations, that give reasons to this.

Though every bit of preparation could not prepare me for this feeling still. The want to have motivation, the want to be apart of a beautiful creation. The need to feel great appreciation, the need to have greater expectations.

The world has ever only been a depressing gravitation, putting every bit of joy at mass extinction. There are always going to be hesitations to do what makes us happy.

There will forever be misdirections on our paths, unavailable to direct corrections.

I only have one question, of a simple fashion, where did you come from, my beautiful misdirection.

D. L. Smith 1/16/2017
D L Smith Nov 2016
Hold your breath.

Count to Ten.

When you've done it.

Take it all in.

There is more to this.

More to your world and my own.

There is a beautiful sky.

Even though the clouds hang low.

With every death there is life.

With every sadness there is joy.

Just take a breath.

Feel everything around you.

Its purpose, your purpose.

Everything has a sliver of goodness.

A taste of what better days will bring.

Close your eyes, count to ten, time to get up, your day begins.

D. L. Smith 11/15/2016
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