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 Jun 2017
Tyler A Sullivan
The widow in the window wondered
If there ever was a feeling of joy
Before her and her husband sunderd
A thought that will destroy

The widow in the window weeped
At the loss of love
Now neither shall keep
The linen white dove

The widow in the window worried
Of dark thoughts on her mind
A hope for the distress to be hurried
A chance of joy to find

The widow in the window sunderd
The husband long dead
The widow in the window wondered
With doom upon her head
 Jun 2017
Emily Marshall
I met a killer once.
Actually I met them all.
They all killed the person I used to be.

They locked up the things that made me truly happy.
They cut off the people that made life worthwhile.
They paid off the girl I used to see and smile.
Finally they killed me, they changed me. They won.

I met a killer once.
Actually I met them all.
They killed the person I used to be.
 Jun 2017
Delaney
Open a can in front of her
and then ask her why
she flinches
at the sound.

Ask her why
the mere scent of beer
coaxes stomach acid up
her throat.

Go on, ask her why
her childhood memories
are tainted
by an alcoholic fog.

Ask her why 'father'
is a six letter word,
and each letter
is holding a 30-pack of misery.

-db
 Jun 2017
Tyler Zuniga
i feel like i'm going crazy inside my head.
dark thoughts with lucifer,
he stays under my bed.
peel back my skin,
i think i'm already dead.
no time to waste,
i gave my soul to the devil instead.
creepy crawlers under my skin.
demons filling me with sin.
trying to hold back the monster within.
myself.
In stale shadows of night turned early morning
Only the working, weary and weeping move
In silence they carry out their tasks for fear of stirring
Disturbing those at peace
What could be screams are toned down to whimpers choked into bedsheets
No one would know
No one would hear
In the stale shadows of night turned early morning
 Jun 2017
Graff1980
It is the melancholy
of stares lost in thought
of empty chairs
that we forgot
to dust off.

It is the place
where we become
strangers from
the homes we
come from

where shadows flicker
quicker then the stiffer
bodies that fall

and we mourn them all
each with their own degree
of wet or silent grief.

It is silence
all pale pallor and deathly
waiting patiently
to take you and me

while our loved ones
are finally left
to feel the grief
that we now
feel for thee
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