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The Misconstrued Aug 2017
For if I could relive my past,
I'd make you hit me more,
Because the wounds won't last,
It's the scars by your pointed words that will remain.
Don't you all wish certain things could be unheard?
  Aug 2017 The Misconstrued
Angharad
It's perfect isn't it, when you are just learning someone for the first time. Tracing their skin, holding hands.
Drowned in darkness the senses are peaked. Skin tingling, touch like electricity. In that moment the whole world stops. Tormenting inside voices fall mute and everything is in perfectly balanced chaos
For you
  Aug 2017 The Misconstrued
r
Tonight poets will find the words
to color their life and dip their pens
in wounds that aren’t even their own
and some will stare at the moon
seeing an empty plate, hungering
for something without a name
or a clock with no numbers knowing
time carries a dagger and a sword
for the hours that wound and nights
that cut throats, arrows that pierce
hearts fiercely until they lie still,
cold and bled out on a bed all alone.
  Aug 2017 The Misconstrued
MI
I don't always like the summer
All the lightness makes me ache
It intensifies the lonely
And reminds me how to break

I am not a fan of sunshine
It exposes every scar
With brighter days that stretches wide
I'm longing for a star

I avoid the summer evenings
The aliveless makes me weak
Opportunities that's passing by
I hide away and shrink

For I do not mind the darkness
It's a shield against your eyes
The cold let's me wear layers
Keeps me safely in disguise
Shall I stop writing
Because you do not read?

Shall I stop trying to get through life
Because you think
I will not succeed?

Shall I stop planting my thoughts -
Each poem a precious seed,

Shall I stop being myself
Because you do not see beauty
In self-expression,
Or because you see a wildflower
As a ****?

What do you want from me?

You be you!
Let me be!

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
Our individuality
Is what makes us special.
Stay true to yourself!
  Aug 2017 The Misconstrued
Kim Lang
When is it the right time
To open the closet door
To look in on a journey paused
To risk the truth and find
Boxes taped up with angry haste
Adventures stifled within four walls

When is the right time
To sit with the papers, the moments, the times
To make the decisions
To be brave in the face of pain and find
Cherished moments stuffed haphazardly away
Flashes of beauty smothered by a storm

When is the right time
To laugh, to cry, to hate, to mourn
To acknowledge the truth
To risk the unpredictable path that leads to
A heart ready, open for healing
And a closet - with room for someone else
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