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  Feb 2017 TheStartOfMyEnds
Danny Price
He drowns himself in cities:
Grey walls and blue lights.
Maturity, they call it, when
Blood turns brittle and eyes
Lock the soul. Warmth
Comes in bottles now.
TheStartOfMyEnds Feb 2017
Natural events cause natural damage
they call it “The work of God”
All the promises an insurance policy has to offer
just as many as those obstinate ads claim day to day
now have no power to bring back what is lost

*See how it is...
when people have no place to call home
a place to string families together
in the same warmth
the same beauty
of an intertwined web


Becoming who they are
they become nothing
  but easy prey...
funny how we define ourselves
clever creatures
standing tall at the very top
of the food chain


Mother Nature
possibly feels the same ordeal
the same heartache
An unnecessary one sided battle
of dislocation between
man and wildlife


Underneath the same stretched out sky
enough for all to explore
but yet people greed for more
There will never be enough land
for any population
without even coming to realise
that an abomination
of certain species
may occur


We destroy
with good intentions
Fixing mistakes with ignorant hands
The desire to feel needed
We ****
to revive



*Heaven rumbles
in absolute disappointment
ready for another round of applause
a storm to surge.
An old piece, written by me of course, at age 16 in school. Second attempt in poetry writing. Graded C ...lol
All Rights Reserved
TheStartOfMyEnds Feb 2017
Fear settles beneath these eyes
Taking colours not in distant forms of night
Plain as day, a generous cup of wishes
but easily an indecisive storm
For the clouds to spread, for the rain to have mercy, a chance all I seek
Ease this heart that ceased to beat
A mind that refuses peace
And ease this spirit that trembles endlessly
A chance I plead
Fail me twice, please not again
Turn for me and lift
So I may see
The face of the stranger
A father I have missed but never knew exists
What are the odds of children growing up, not knowing who their real parents are? Abused by their stepfathers (or stepmother) most of their lives, thinking they're the real deal and wondering why they were so despised by him. Only to find out years later, (when you've just graduated "teenage years" and now a full fledged working adult), that the reason he hates you, is because  to him... you're a ******* child.

Suddenly I'm a little girl again, letting curiosity get the best out of me and reach back to a stranger who failed too many times to grab my hand.
TheStartOfMyEnds Feb 2017
A thick bottle of wine
Emptied and then abandoned
Soon filled with these Shards of Broken Glass

              
And so Trash it may seem
but with a little ray of light
                                         the glasses
                                                        beautifully broken glasses
                                                                                                  will shine

                And fill the room
  Stars with their own screaming colours
Going through pretty tough times, truths finally uncovered though not very surprising as there's always that part of me that knew it all. Knowing who you really are and knowing where you really came from, the truth makes you feel whole yet left empty... I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has ever felt this way and so high five to the ones who made it pass their own storm. This poem is inspired by my own feelings with the help of a thick glass bottle washed ashore by the beach of my home, soon filled with broken sea glasses that I've collected.
TheStartOfMyEnds Feb 2017
Be it so as he pleased
for the faith she has
that he'll soon be a changed man
is stronger than her will of reckless abandon*

And so as he pleased...
her heart shattered and then was whole
As she found new light
and promised him the company of his own shadows.
TheStartOfMyEnds Nov 2016
We are nothing but empty vessels
Eyes mirror nothing but the truth
And Our lips speak lies
The stories that created us
Will remain untold
Our misfortunes,
Manipulated into a fantasy;
A happily never after in disguise.
We are not always as we appear to be
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