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Lyvana Nyx Aug 2017
When need boils away
The patience of a friend
Is when the skin burns off
Destroying the last of hope
The ashes blow away quietly
And with it, my dreams...
I wrote this one after my friend left.  I'm still pretty upset about it.  I had thought if this friend couldn't deal with me, then chances are no one will, not to mention that all the repercussions on my mental health that I am now having to deal with because of it.
Lyvana Nyx Aug 2017
Stop and start
A beating heart
Boil my blood
Burn my skin
Free my ashes
Hellfire within

This dead soul consumed
By a vengeful world
No heaven or hell
Eternal purgatory
Living cost
So much more
Than death

Strike fear
Into them
Make them good
Because they fear
Retribution
Judgement will come
Did you pay your dues?

Sins wrapped in shadows
The darkness within
Slips out the cracks
Turning innocence out
Guilty pleasures
Everyday trangressions
Just one more
The promise of tomorrow
Be redeemed
Pray to be forgiven

False perfection
Surface beauty
A shining beacon
Blinding saintliness
A matyr to the cause
By living purely
Give not onto temptation
I wrote this after reading a former friend's poem "Buried Alive."  This poem, as well as his other ones, can be found on beelzeblog.wordpress.com if you're interested in checking it out.  

My thoughts on this is some people are "good" because they fear being bad and getting sent to hell, versus being good because they want to be good.
Lyvana Nyx Aug 2017
I wanna write poetry
That grabs by the throat
Choking,
Seizing your secrets
From your tasty open mouth
And speechless tongue

I wanna write poetry
As wild and free
As this burnt out bleeding ash
B l o w i n g
In a soft never-ending breeze

I wanna write poetry
That howls with the loneliness
Of a cold shooting star
On a cloudy bleached day
Missing the meteor showing
By a few thousand years

I wanna write poetry
With odd jumps and
Pauses
That captures music
And dance
Andy everything
Between the odd cacophony
Of unwell put together words

I wanna write poetry
That SCREAMS with the
Silent fury of a
Self-inflicted cage
Locked by being lost and used
But open yet to like minded needy hands

I wanna write poetry
Not with rhymes
But with the rhythm
Of my off beat jazz
And out of tune,
Flat,
Voice.

I wanna write poetry.
First poem I wrote after years of not writing at all.  I'd never written poetry before this really, but I became very interested in it a few years ago, and even more so in the recent months and it was the first one I thought was alright.

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