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Shrek is love, I told them, Shrek is dreck, they answer.
So I make this poem, to give them the cancer.
Shrek is life, I’m groaning, while they’re battering me.
I don’t care, I’m flying, over the devilry.

I don’t care that I bleed, because my Shrek is here.
I know he’s behind me, with strong ogre muscles.
He will venge what they did, and feel them with sweet fear.
Stronger than an army, he’s only leaving skulls.

But what if he succumbs, what if he expires ?
No, you cannot get him, he is stronger than God.
Wonder from where he comes, maybe he pulls the wires.

The bullies were all gone, thanks to my green best friend.
And just for all he’s done, friendship does never end.
Shrek is love, Shrek is life, and Shrek is everywhere.
There is not enough poems on Shrek on the internet, so I made this one.
You're a red rose.
Bleeding sympathy.
Craving love,
learning growth,
seeking beauty...
 Oct 2019 Broken Angel Wings
Ajax
Unable to feel, unable to heal, unable to mend
Looking around for a new friend
But It crept up on the lifeless body, like a plague
Lungs started collapsing, oxygen grasping
Feeling every thought, every pain, it felt life ending…
A mind at war ready to surrender…

A Losing battle of emotions destroyed by fear
Body on strings wishing it could finally disappear
Controlling puppeteer, filling a body of agony
Screaming help from the start, but the heart was drowning
Wanting to feel free, but demons in the brain
Attacking lifelines of nerves, turning into a war zone

Falling through levels of sanity, ripped from the body
Turning imperfection into the power of its perfections
A life, a heart, a body now finally ripped apart
Scars unable to be seen, just felt through the misery
Demons on the prowl, ready to **** but unable to feel

A body remaining in pain with demons locked in the brain
Hiding the key was its goal, now give back the body
Plague of illness taken over, people see the pain
Scars now plague an empty canvas of skin and blood
Running down arms from the self-harm…

Unable to understand the battle of illness
Evil within all people, but only certain bodies can heal
A body running out of time, slowing dying out
Bodies live, bodies die, but this one went out too young
The mind is the bodies relentless enemy.

Sympathy being given, eulogies being written
Generations in pain, like blood leaving the veins
A body now free with people mourning the loss
Now able to feel, now able to heal, now able to mend
Looking around for a new friend once again…
Can we talk about the word trigger
Because people are dumb
Teenagers say they are triggered when
They don’t want to write a paper
They miss a goal in soccer
They drop their phone
That is called being annoyed or disappointed
That is not triggered

A trigger is an emotional allergy
Some that triggers distress or panic
A trigger is loud noises cause a panic attack
When did I last really laugh?
I can't really remember.
But I want to.

When did I last cry?
Just yesterday I believe,
But I don't know why.

When did I last yell?
Does it count if it
Was only in my head?

When did I last break?
An hour, ago I'm afraid.
No, maybe, I think.

My final question:
When will I last,
Do all of the above?/
....ok then.
it had taken bones,
reshuffled and pounded to pieces
fingertips,
scorched
from molding cast irons,
worn, from unsewing and re-sewing heartbeats
and wrists,
white from scarring,
for me not to break
at the slightest touch.
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