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Frank Ruland Sep 2020
more than stars are falling--
the sky is coming, too
everything i wished for
and the things i promised you

it's all crashing down
upon my crown of thorns
it's the death of all my grace
and no one's come to mourn

i know it's all my fault
i tore it down myself
behind the facade of heaven
was really just my hell

it all came crashing down
and with it, all my lies
so, once again I find myself
beneath smoldering skies
Frank Ruland Sep 2020
They called her Sunshine
but she never liked the name
Never was a silver lining,
only forecasts of more the same

They'd tell her it was a nice day
just because the sun was out
But behind the shadows that it cast
was a sea of misery and doubt

They'd tell her to go outside--
there's a rainbow overhead
But she was brokenhearted
colorblind, & trapped inside her head

Their name for her was Sunshine,
though it felt like anything but
They would call, she would look
and all she could say was, "What?"
Frank Ruland Aug 2020
t̵h̶e̵ ̷b̴a̸t̷h̷t̷u̵b̴ ̶w̷a̴s̶ ̴f̵u̸l̸l̸
̵s̷h̴e̴ ̶c̸u̸t̷ ̸t̴h̷e̶ ̵f̷a̶u̸c̸e̸t̶ ̶o̵f̵f̴
̶n̵o̵ ̶s̶e̵n̴s̸e̷ ̵i̶n̴ ̶s̵p̷i̷l̶l̵i̶n̸g̴ ̷h̵e̵r̷ ̸s̵u̴i̷c̷i̷d̵e̴ ̷o̴u̸t̵s̷i̵d̶e̶ ̸t̴h̵e̸ ̴t̷u̶b̶
̸i̵t̸ ̴w̸a̶s̸ ̶w̵a̷r̷m̴
̷r̷e̵l̸a̶x̸i̸n̷g̷
̷p̸r̴o̵b̵a̴b̶l̴y̴ ̵t̴h̶e̷ ̴m̸o̶s̸t̸ ̵c̵o̶m̵f̴o̷r̷t̵ ̶s̶h̸e̵'̸d̷ ̶k̸n̶o̸w̷n̶ ̵i̶n̴ ̸y̷e̶a̶r̴s̴
̸b̶u̸t̴ ̷j̸u̷s̵t̷ ̸u̸n̷d̴e̸r̵ ̸t̴h̵e̷ ̶s̷k̸i̸n̵
̷s̴h̴e̸ ̷f̸e̷l̸t̸ ̶t̵h̵a̸t̵ ̷S̵I̵C̷K̶E̶N̷I̵N̷G̵ ̴s̴e̷n̷s̴a̸t̷i̵o̵n̸ ̶t̵h̶a̷t̴ ̶s̶e̷n̴t̴ ̷h̸e̵r̷ ̷s̶p̶i̶n̴e̷ ̷s̴h̸i̸v̵e̵r̴i̷n̸g̸
̷s̸h̸e̵ ̵f̸e̸l̴t̴ ̸d̷i̷s̷g̷u̷s̵t̷i̴n̵g̴
̴c̴o̴u̷l̴d̸ ̴s̵h̸e̶ ̷d̴o̵ ̷i̶t̵
̶c̷o̶u̸l̷d̵ ̶s̴h̵e̶
̵a̷f̴t̵e̸r̷ ̷a̷l̵l̵ ̵t̵h̴i̴s̵ ̷t̷i̷m̷e̵.̶
̴a̸l̸l̶ ̴t̶h̵o̸s̶e̵ ̸n̷i̶g̶h̷t̵ ̴s̴p̷e̶n̶t̷ ̶w̸i̷d̵e̶ ̸a̸w̷a̸k̸e̵
̵c̸l̶a̶w̶i̸n̵g̵ ̵h̷e̶r̸ ̶a̴r̴m̶s̶ ̸a̵n̸d̵ ̴n̵e̵c̷k̵
̴s̶h̸e̴ ̷h̸a̵d̷ ̸t̴o̵
̵i̸t̸ ̷w̸a̴s̷ ̵t̸h̴e̷ ̵o̸n̴l̶y̷ ̵w̸a̵y̴
̶t̵h̸e̷ ̵m̵e̴t̶a̸l̷ ̶r̵e̸c̴t̴a̶n̴g̴l̸e̵ ̴la̶y̷ ̷o̴n̸ ̴t̵h̸e̶ ̴e̷d̸g̵e̶ ̵o̶f̸ ̷t̸h̵e̷ ̷t̸u̷b̶
̸n̴o̷ ̷b̸i̴g̴g̷e̵r̴ ̶t̴h̵a̵n̷ ̸a̶ ̵k̶e̶y̸
̶b̶u̵t̵ ̷t̵h̸a̶t̸'̷s̵ ̸w̷h̸a̸t̷ ̴i̸t̵ ̷w̵a̸s̸
̴a̶ ̸k̴e̷y̵
̸a̸n̵d̸ ̶h̷e̴r̵ ̴s̵k̷i̶n̶ ̴w̸a̴s̶ ̷l̷o̶c̶k̶i̷n̴g̴ ̶i̵n̸ ̸e̷v̵e̵r̵y̷t̶h̴i̶n̴g̷ ̸t̵h̶a̶t̸ ̵n̶e̵e̴d̸e̴d̴ ̸e̸m̷p̴t̶y̴i̸n̶g̸ ̶o̶u̵t̸
̵s̴o̵ ̵s̶h̵e̸ ̴t̷o̶o̵k̶ ̸t̷h̴e̶ ̷r̷a̵z̴o̶r̷
̵a̵n̷d̷ ̶s̴l̸i̸d̷ ̴i̸t̸ ̵a̸g̵a̴i̵n̷s̸t̷ ̶h̷e̶r̴ ̶w̶r̸i̴s̶t̵s̷
̵a̴n̷d̸ ̸a̴l̶l̵ ̵h̶e̶r̸ ̴w̵o̶r̷r̵i̵e̸s̵ ̵e̸b̵b̷e̷d̸ ̴i̷n̵t̸o̵ ̴t̸h̵e̸ ̷w̵a̸t̸e̸r̷
̵ ̴s̵t̶e̴a̸d̸y̶ ̵t̶r̷i̴c̴k̵l̷e̷ ̵o̷f̶ ̴w̷o̶r̴d̶s̴ ̷g̴u̴s̴h̴e̴d̸ ̶f̷r̴o̸m̸ ̶h̸e̶r̷ ̷v̸e̸i̸n̵
̶e̷v̴e̶r̴y̸t̶h̸i̶n̸g̶ ̶s̵h̷e̷ ̵c̸o̷u̷l̴d̸ ̵n̴e̵v̸e̶r̴ ̸s̸a̸y̷
̴a̴l̵l̵ ̶t̵h̶e̵ ̶w̵o̵r̶d̷s̵ ̸t̸h̸e̶y̶ ̴h̸a̸d̷ ̵l̴o̶d̵g̴e̶d̶ ̷i̵n̷ ̸h̶e̵r̴ ̴t̶h̶r̶o̷a̶t̶
̵a̷l̵l̵ ̷t̸h̷e̸ ̷c̵r̴i̶e̵s̴ ̸a̸n̷d̴ ̵p̷l̷e̷a̸s̶
̸e̸v̸e̸r̸y̷t̵h̴i̸n̴g̵ ̶t̵h̸e̴y̸ ̶n̴e̴v̶e̸r̴ ̴w̷a̸n̵t̴e̴d̴ ̵t̴o̴ ̵h̷e̶a̴r̵
̶t̴h̸e̶y̵'̷d̷ ̵h̶e̸a̸r̷ ̷n̷o̶w̴
̵w̷h̶a̵t̴ ̸w̵a̵s̷ ̴o̸n̸c̷e̸ ̴s̵i̴l̶e̵n̴c̵e̷
̸w̷a̷s̸ ̸n̸o̷w̴ ̶s̴a̶n̶g̷u̵i̴n̴e̷ ̴s̴t̶a̷t̴i̸c̴
̶"̵I̶t̸'̴s̸ ̶o̶k̸a̷y̶,̷"̴ ̶s̵a̸i̸d̸ ̶h̷e̷r̶ ̶w̷r̵i̸s̴t̴
̶a̵s̸ ̴h̷e̶r̷ ̵e̸y̸e̶s̷ ̴b̶e̸g̸a̸n̷ ̴t̴o̸ ̸g̴e̶t̵ ̸h̴e̷a̵v̶y̴,̵ ̷h̷e̷r̴ ̴w̸o̶u̷n̴d̶ ̵f̴o̷r̵m̶i̵n̸g̸ ̸a̶ ̴m̶o̷u̶t̵h̵ ̷f̸o̵r̷ ̵i̶t̷ ̶t̷o̸ ̶s̵p̵e̷a̴k̵
̵"̷"̵j̴u̴s̵t̸ ̷l̷e̵t̶ ̵m̴e̶ ̸d̵o̵ ̸t̶h̴e̵ ̵t̵a̶l̵k̷i̶n̷g̶.̵"̶
Frank Ruland Aug 2020
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=()='
/ V \
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/^_)
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Ӌҽʂ,
𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕗𝕝𝕪
₳₦Đ
ɾҽαԃყ ƚσ die
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ƧΉΣ DIDП'Ƭ ΣVΣП KПӨЩ
she'd been stuck
հҽ ҍօմղժ հҽɾ մք
ɬɧɛŋ ʄơཞƈɛɖ ɧɛཞ ɬơ ʄųcƙ
][
][
ˢʰᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ɹǝpıds ɐ sɐʍ ǝɥ 'ʇnq
𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞
₳₦Đ ₴ⱧØVɆĐ VɆ₦Ø₥ ł₦₴łĐɆ ⱧɆⱤ
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Frank Ruland Aug 2020
what are you waiting for
it's almost here
it's almost time
can you feel it
like splinters under your fingernails
did you leave your door open a crack?
last night
just a crack
almost
could you see it
when your vision blurs
staring into a mirror
your face
your face?
no
your eyes sink in
black holes
for it to see through
through the crack
don't blink
don't worry
just wait
is it quiet?
can you hear that
scraping the rug
don't worry
it's almost time
almost
Frank Ruland Aug 2020
a shot of bourbon
chased by one more
did it even burn?
i can't be sure

she's crying again
because of me
she's cutting open
her heart, to be

i wasn't like this--
i used to be clean
now i'm disgusting
but that's all she's seen

it's all going black
it's coming undone
she closes her eyes
and throttles the gun

did it even burn?
there's no coming back
now all that's left
is bourbon & black
Frank Ruland Apr 2019
It sounds like distant thunder,
it feels like a winter's worth of hail
It's the boom of being driven under,
while your heart pleads for you to bail.

I'll go down with the 'ship--
I want you to have the lifeboat
It's time I meet my watry crypt
and for you to find your crossroad

Stay warm, hold true and look north;
find the star which shines brightest
I wish you everything you've hoped for,
beneath skies calm and quiet.

I'll wait to send an S.O.S.
so I can think of why I'm sinking
But it was always you, I confess--
of whom my heart was thinking.
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