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Jan 2021 · 2.5k
the grim reaper
Bisaal Jan 2021
in ruins
yet there will be no confession
lest a scythe be heard
scraping
Bisaal Sep 2018
she said to herself:
be willing
you will not
crumple to the floor
and weep
fear not humiliation
fear demurral
black out poetry # 1 - made from the book "the signature of everything" by elizabeth gilbert
Jun 2018 · 302
from the inside and out
Bisaal Jun 2018
depression cuts you up
from the inside
into small, small pieces
eventually you can no longer take it
and you puke up the pieces
but the people keep coming
to stuff your insides
with the cut up meat
Apr 2018 · 970
your first words
Bisaal Apr 2018
your first words to me
after you and I
turned into us
were
"I don't know
how to be a boyfriend,
but you can teach me
right?"

"right"
I said
the sad thing is
I don't think you learnt
Jun 2017 · 266
i'm a flower
Bisaal Jun 2017
I'm a flower
but you shouldn't pluck me
I might look nice
but you'll get a surprise
so don't **** with me
sorry for the bad language
Jun 2017 · 1.4k
touching you
Bisaal Jun 2017
I touch your hair
then touch the grass,
your hair is so much softer.

I touch your cheek
then touch mine,
they are the same,
so why does yours make my fingers tingle?

I touch your lips with my fingers, they feel good
I touch your lips with my lips,
it feels way better.

I touch your hair, cheek, lips, chest, back,
I touch all of you
and I love it,
I love all of you.
I don't know where this came from since I'm still sad from a breakup and this isn't really a sad poem...
Jun 2017 · 457
set me free
Bisaal Jun 2017
as the swan dances through the sky
I whisper
'you fly in your freedom,
as happy as can be
and here I sit
wishing someone to set me free'.

and as the cage around me
erupts in flames
the swan answers
'i have freed you,
but never forget:
no one is ever completely free
it is simply imagination,
you see'.
Jun 2017 · 432
rainfall
Bisaal Jun 2017
Standing alone in the rain,
and as it pours down my cheeks I wonder,
is it raining from my eyes
or is it raining from the skies above?
Jun 2017 · 503
BLACK OUT POETRY #3
Bisaal Jun 2017
Den enda gången
han var fräck och djärv
var det ingen
som förstod
honom.
Swedish poem.
Jun 2017 · 484
BLACK OUT POETRY #2
Bisaal Jun 2017
Striden
den är över
men alla sår är kvar
och de blöder.
Swedish poem.
Jun 2017 · 408
BLACK OUT POETRY #1
Bisaal Jun 2017
Jag är inte ett objekt.
Jag är bara en flicka,
rädd,
fjantig,
bortglömd.
Även då
är jag guld värd.
Swedish Poem.

— The End —