Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ash or KC Dec 2019
Time is a concept in our minds,
it is not reality.
It is not who we are.
time is something that we can not base ourselves off.

Yet what are we surrounded by?
Are we early?
Are we on time?
Are we late?
I hate it.

Its anxiety riddled.
It brings anger.
It brings stress.
It bring exhaustion.
It brings all these things
That are full of hate.
But there’s one aspect
That time brings.
It is riddled with my hate.


For as long as I believe in time,
Change is bound to come with the ticking and turning of the clock.
Tick - a second gone by.
Tock - another second gone.
Slowly but surely till years have gone by,
And now all i can feel is despair.

If everyone on Earth stopped believing in time,
Maybe then change wouldn’t come to me.
It wouldn’t affect how I feel.
It wouldn’t affect how I look.
Time is just a human construct after all.
Ash or KC Oct 2018
Cold weather seems better than hot weather.
It cools a person when out doing practice.
You can hide from the cold weather,
Unlike the hot scorching weather.

Love is when you figure it out.
That's hot weather.
You can't hide from love.
You can't strip love from a person.
No many layer you peel will make it hide.

Now, pain.
Pain is so much like the cold weather.
You can hide the pain.
Cover up the pain as much as you want,
Because no matter how cold it is,
You can still block it out.

First, it is warm.
Love is beginning to blossom.
Isn't it amazing?
This warm feeling inside,
This feeling that you just can't escape from?
It's a feeling I have,
It's a feeling I could never regret.

Slowly, it gets colder,
Like the slightest of breezes.
It's hardly noticeable.
You're thankful for the cool weather,
But the cool weather here?
Troubles begin to arise.
Every little thing that they made go away comes back.
Those stupid feelings of worthlessness,
Those stupid feelings of jealousy,
Those stupid thoughts of being alone,
Those stupid thought of "does he not love me anymore?"

The weather is harsh now.
What more could go worse?
Why won't it go away?
At a certain point, the weakest relationships fall.
One leaves other.
We're left alone.
They went and found their own evacuation route.
We're left behind.

All I feel is the harsh cold at first,
The pain that begins to slowly numb my feelings.
I can't be happy.
I don't feel deserving.
I don't feel secure.
I am of no value.
So, why is it I still love them?
Why is it that the happy warm feeling is still there?
But iced over.

It's a cycle that goes around,
And around,
And around.
It never stops.
If you fall in love,
Pain is sure to ensue
At least pain is easier to control,
Easier to numb out,
Than love is.
Ash or KC Oct 2018
A loss of words is what the wind whispers.
A loss of smiles is what the sun has.
A loss of moves is what the palm tree realizes.
Oh, how much they wish they had what they lost.

A person has a loss of many things.
They lose their childhood.
They lose their independence.
They lose their humanity.
Oh, how much a person wishes they had what they've lost.

The sun hides behind dark grey clouds.
The dark grey clouds hide behind the rain.
The rain hides behind thunder and lightning.
It's all a cycle of hiding behind each other,
But where do we hide when there is no more to hide?

Every place to hide is a place of dark terrors that awaits us.
A place so dark that one can not call it 'rock bottom',
For there is more to it.
There is no place where we land.
Our loss is an endless abyss that dark terrors wait for us in.
The only way to get out of this abyss is when we are thrown a lifeline.

Sometimes too late is this life line thrown.
Sometimes too late are we finally noticed.
Sometimes too late help has arrived.
Sometimes too late is what has us dead.
We've succumbed to the terrors and left them full out soul.
We've let them drive us to insanity.

A loss of words is what the wind whispers.
A loss of smiles is what the sun has.
A loss of moves is what the palm tree realizes.
Oh, how much they wish they had what they lost.
Ash or KC Feb 2018
You use your coded words,
Building up my feelings for you.
I never shared my secrets like that.
Never said how lonely I felt,
But now I don't feel as alone.
You are there in my life.
You inspire the words that I write.
My twisted metaphors,
My once empty writing,
They hold you in them.
You're there in name.
You're there in comparison.
You're there because i put you there.
When a poet falls for a hacker,
They realize that they can hack more than just software,
Or bypass firewalls.
They can hack our feelings,
Bypass the walls we set up,
And infiltrate our systems.
I'm at the time of writing this, seem to have found myself to have fallen for somebody, a rare thing that has happened to me.
Ash or KC Dec 2017
T'was the night before Christmas,
And the streets were full of light.
The streets were full of music.
The streets were full of people.

The neighborhood t'was never empty,
For the hearty laughter echoed through the houses.
Everyone seemed to enjoy Christmas.
All but one lad were in the festive moods.

Casey found no light.
Colourblindness had robbed that from him.
Casey heard no laugh, nor music.
Being deaf stripped him of that loving sound.
Casey could not be in the streets.
Too many people caused anxiety.

He found himself every Christmas Eve another dread.
Less people,
Less love,
Less gifts.

He was being forgotten,
And no more worse was his name.
It had become a mere whisper of wind.
No one knew him anymore.

T'was the night before Christmas,
And Casey found no festive cheer.
He found no holiday spirit.
Ash or KC Oct 2017
You were a mystery at first,
With your pale face, sunken cheekbones, and short hair.
Your sweater too big,
And it made you adorably small.
Your laugh?
It releases my tension,
makes me feel warm.
I don't wish to think it,
But I won't mean to anything?
You won't like as I do.
I'm a goof ball,
A third wheeler.
Why would some one like you care?
It feels evil.
You are a demon disguised as that mystery angel I adore.
Ash or KC Oct 2017
Love is a flower.
At first, not even knowing what it will be,
But then it blooms,
Sometimes gracefully,
For others it is a bumpy road.
As the growing comes to an end,
It will grow into a unique and beautiful flower.
After all is grown, it will wilt,
Living as it should have,
But the most beautiful in the garden are taken,
Chopped before it can be what it was meant to be.
The most beautiful of flowers,
The ones who deserve to live,
They're the ones who live the shortest.
Next page