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Autumn Shayse Sep 2015
They speak only of strain,
both economic and physical,
They talk only of inconvenience,
of wasted resources,
They teach only worst-case scenarios,
of foolish mistakes made by
insignificant humans.

And it's ingrained within,
intrinsic and instinctive,
we no longer value individual lives,
we no longer care for other humans,
life-forms.

they never speak of the loss of life,
they never talk of the despair -
no,
we won't ever hear of their pain,
their desperation,
because, we are the privileged
and they are insignificant.
About the migrant crisis - where is the care for the individual - each loss of life should be viewed as a fatality - they are no less worthy than us  - how can we just ignore them, blame them, when we have no idea what it is like to be in that position?
Autumn Shayse Aug 2015
I've refused my heart access,
to poems about love,

I've told myself over and over,
I don't need it anymore

I've solely allowed myself,
to revel in my heart ache,
by reading poems of a similar vain

But what I've just realised,
is to ignore the beauty of the little things,
to ignore the love that exists right now,
is such carelessness -
a total lack of regard for those who are,
at present,
engulfed in what once was.

I suppose we should keep reading the lover's poems,
someone needs to empower them, after all.
Autumn Shayse Jul 2015
Break me down again,
It was a great
source of inspiration for a while there.
Autumn Shayse Jul 2015
I'm all mixed up,
I've got a broken heart y'see,
and in a sense I'm relieved -
at least I know I've got one now.

I'm cascading,
into a former life,
where no-one is interested,
where no-one gives a ****.

And what's worse,
More than anything else,
More than the brokenness and reclusion,
is the pangs of regrets,
when I think of you with her,
knowing it should be me.
This really isn't good
Autumn Shayse Jul 2015
Hindsight is a funny thing
Before it all,
It was all I wanted,
I spent years writing about my angst for a life,
desperately aching for someone to want me,
clinging to the hope of a someday

And I got it,
My previous selves would've been proud,
relieved,
We thought it not possible, y'see
And then I lost it,
I was not mistaken,
There is such fragility with emotion,
especially when he fades,
no explanation provided

Hindsight is a funny thing,
After it all,
I wish I'd just held out,
Not kissed those lips,
The lips of a liar,
Because I would still be intact now,
doubtful of the future,
but with innocence retained.
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