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 Jan 2018
morgan
look at these girls
sweet girls
pretty girls
skinny girls
sweet pretty skinny girls
pale as ghosts
on all the posts
programmed to make you love the most
lips with a taste
perfect cherries
and bony hands
bony wrists
bony thighs
little do you know
they are beginning to crumble
and fade into the wall
joining the skeletons in their closet
digging their graves with
manicured nailsm
living up to their skin tone
Hush...
Be still...
Try to remain silent.

Listen very closely...
Her pleading may be heard
As it is carried through the wind.
Her emotional appeal
Sounds desperate -
It is unbearable to an epath.
Her pleads are ever so faint
And gentle, they are far from violent.

Hush...
Be still...
It is her soul's agony
Which is vibrating
A disturbing frequency,
At such a rate that it constitutes
A wave.

Cries, which nature, alone,
Can hear and feel...
Cries, which shake the leaves free
From the branches of all the
Majestic trees; neither her soul
Nor the trees, can you save.

Hush...
Be still...
Can you feel the faint tremble  
Under your barefeet?

Hush...
Be still...
Rest your cheek upon the earth,
Feel her spirit, which is trapped
Deep down inside.
Inhale her essence- it is buried below,
In the fragrant moist soil...
Taste the droplets, she is in the dew;
Even in pain she is a soul
So gently sweet...
~ She is tinged with sadness--
Bittersweet.

By Lady R.F (C)2017* ⚘
 Dec 2017
mythie
Another day in bed.
My pillow dry with tears.

You're waiting for another breakdown.
Another plea for help.

You crave me.
You want to corrupt my mind so that I will only be yours.

What hurts, even more, is how much it works.
How much I can't run away from you.

I could leave your apartment.
The door is so close.

Yet, after I cry you just shove your hands down my pants.
We get busy after that.

You make me weak.
You make me vulnerable.

You use me when I am out of strength.
To fulfil your selfish desires.

"Come here, I'll make you feel better."
My thighs are always bruised.

I expected long conversations underneath a sparkly sky.
I expected cuddles and reassurance that everything was alright.

What I got was a torn *****, bloodied bedsheets.
Bruised ankles and red eyes.

I never told you "No."
Because if I did, how would you react?

I didn't tell you this.
But I'm late.

It hasn't come in a month and I got worried.
I spit up blood more than twice a week.

How can I tell you?
You'll ask me to get rid of it.

Yet you keep pushing me.
My limits are breaking.

You're going to hurt them, stop thrusting.
It hurts.

Stop.
 Dec 2017
Keyana Brown
Never have I ever heard
anyone say they hated music
I asked her again and she said
'I hate music!'

She hated music
because it reminded her
of her tragic past after
every lyric in her head
it drowned her thoughts
that filled her with dread.

She hated music
because it reminded her
of love because she
feels that her love
isn't good enough...
for anyone.

She hated music
because it reminded her
of unhappiness
when she tried to listen
to an instrumental tune
she would be gloom
as the beat mimics
the sound of her
fathers beating heart
before he passed away
until then she fell apart
and felt her life was
going to be doomed.

She hated music
because it reminded her
of the good old days
where she was young
and nothing was
stepping in her way
although there were
songs that would say
in life things will change
and you don't always
have it your way.

She hated music
because it reminded her
how people created it
and she said that some artists
don't make songs for
great motivation,
but sadly it's more like
great desperation
she said it must be easy
for them to do all of that
just to get famous
although it doesn't do
everybody any good to
improve their daily
situation.

She hated music so much
that it made her jump into
conclusion which made her
so ticked as she look back
at it now it got her sick.
she asked me
why do people listen to music
when all we can do is ignore it?

She listens to every genre
of music from
many different artists
and she still isn't
interested
as she clutch
her hand into a fist.

She realized now
that she is free from the lyrics that weighed her down
and the rhythm that drags her back around
she believes that without music she would feel
safe and sound.
 Dec 2017
Daniel Tucker
Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies

The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury

Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another

Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world

Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail

Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore

What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged  
Just to prove

The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies

Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant

Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive

A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour

Double-edged          
Double-standards
Double-dealing        
Double-meaning
Double-minded      
Double-jeopardy
Double-troubl­e        
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life

All propagated in
Double-time

Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!
© 2017 Daniel Tucker

Time to take a stand!
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