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You see me,
You hear me,
You feel me,
Yet you do not understand me,

I am not perfect,
My flaws are scars upon my face,
I have tried to face my demons,
But they drown me in my fears,

I am fighting against the tide with pills and distractions,
Yet the waves rise ten feet high,
I have lost my own battles before,

But not like this,
There is nothing to silence the voices,
That only I hear,
The doubts and fears have drained me of my life,

FEARS is who I am now,
He is me,
And I am him,

I cry,
Cry for relief,
Yet it never comes,
Anxiety plays me like a puppet,

It’s strings are the fears that I fear,
The man controlling me is no one,
I am cutting the strings slowly,
But I fear many things.
It’s a poem
 Sep 22
You do as you please.
I'm just a human,
in the form of a woman.
So of course, you can
do as you please.
How dare I speak up my mind?
I should just shut up.
My no means yes to you,
so why do I even bother?

But that ain't working,
not anymore at least.
This pushover has been
pushed too close to the edge.
Tornado meets volcano;
and destruction will lay upon you.
Let me erase your being,
so you can start anew.
And this time I'll help
by planting in your mind
a simple seed of common sense.

I'm a pretty calm person, I rarely ever get mad. But this one guy at the train pushed the wrong button when he decided to ***** me twice. I hope he learned his lesson when I snapped and told him off.
 Sep 8
B L Costello
Found in the dark,
You were not alone,
Somebody killed you
In your home
You were only six,
You will never be seven,
But everyone is pretty in heaven
Beauty queen,
You won the crowns,
It did not help when they held you down,
I think of you,
It makes me crazy
23 years,
You’re still a baby,
But, somebody knows what happened to you,
Because...somebody did it
The world may never know….
Because...somebody hid it
RIP JonBenét  August 6, 1990 – December 25, 1996
©B L Costello 2019
RIP JonBenét  August 6, 1990 – December 25, 1996
23 years.....she would be 29 today.
 Sep 7
The radio has gone silent
No news across crushing blue depths
If whispers I cannot hear
I would give much for even a morsel
To know how you fare
Missing you
Wishing you well
Has anyone any news they can share about S.G. Holter? It’s been months since I heard anything about his health. I’m worried.
 Sep 2
Stephen E Yocum
The whole world has PTSD,
brought about by watching
far too much TV.
Normal people becoming
neurotic or psychotic
by all the "Breaking  News".

Talking heads spewing fearful
endless chapters of dread,
all with their own ax to grind
into our heads, day after day
after day until we want to scream.
Real news or fake, impossible
to know the difference.

A political landscape strewn with
landmines of division and hate.
Melting Ice, and adverse weather,
hurricanes and tornadoes devastate
and forest fires burn, as racists and
terrorists abound at every turn,
and crazy's with military weapons
killing us for sport, just to make
the nightly news, as our nation's
infrastructures crumble into ruins,
all "Breaking News day and night",
while we and the world choke and
quiver from an excessive Carb diet
of information overload, trying to
sleep bathed in bad dreams, laced
with too many strong doses of PTSD.
When is enough, enough,
the saturation point reached?
We've no choice but to disconnect,
Stop letting all that stuff into our
heads. Switch off and take a walk,
hunker down with a good book,
tend the garden, hug our kids,
learn that less is more. But make
sure come next election, there is
a Political reckoning and a White
House cleaning and fumigation rendered.

you’re at the 8 hour job
they give no overtime,
no Christmas bonus,
no raise, no promotion
and yet you continue
to bend over backwards
for them only to receive
nothing but grief, guff
and paycheck so weak
you can’t even afford a
studio apartment for
yourself in return

without praise,
without thanks
or that you did
a good job

and after listening to the
the same repetitive music
and mind-numbing stories
from your co-workers
for hours and hours
days and days
weeks and weeks
months and months
years and years
decades and decades
eventually someone
is going to snap

and this is how shooters
are born,
this is how bomb threats
are made,
this is what encourages people
to commit random acts
of violence

these people are not monstrous
these people are broken
and they have been
driven into doing
monstrous things

but upper management’s
only concern is filling the
owner’s pockets with money,
not your mental stress—
they want you to deal
with that on your own
time, not theirs,
although they may be
the cause

and in the end when the blur
of mass murdering happens
from the rampage of the
disgruntled employee
they act shocked
and terrified with
cries of outrage
that such inhumane
things can be
right now.

we’re all responsible
for our own actions
but it takes a sadistic
type of someone to
propel another person
into going berserk,
to start seeing red in
transcending limitations

some reasonable men
are pushed into doing
unreasonable things

as the shadows have stopped
in the circle of dead children.
 Aug 23
I go to work and I have had a good day so far, I’m on the bus,
Then it happens,
I think to myself,
        -Hopefully work will be the same, I have a lot of stuff to do. I hope I’m  going to make it on time.

I know I will because I knew I would get anxiety from not being on time,
        -I’m going to be late and my boss is going to hate me.

My breathing starts to become shallow,
My stomach starts to clench,
       -I wonder if my boss thinks I’m a failure in his eyes?

My stomach begins to hurt, Yet I continue to think deeper,
       -I hope that my boss won’t fire me as soon as he finds someone better.

I smoke cigarettes to get my mind to fuzz,
       -I wonder if he hates me?

The pain from my stomach becomes excruciating,
      -I think my coworkers think I’m slow.

I try to hide the pain to keep some pride,
      -Why are all the people on the bus sitting at the front, am I scaring them?

My breathing becomes very shallow and I forget to breath,
       -I need to get all of my assignments done soon.

I become angry at myself and I get off the bus,
      -This isn’t my stop, I’m going to late.

My hands are shaking as I am bent over in pain trying to light my cigarette,

One puff,
      -I’m going to be late

Two puffs,
      -I’m going to be late

Three puffs,
      -I’m going to be late

Four puffs,
This is just a glance of my daily life
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