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imadeitallup Aug 2014
You can only imagine
How it feels
How the oxygen
Leaves the room
Just before you
Are consumed
By heat, so intense
You cease to exist
And turn to ash
In it's presence
But you can never know
How it feels
The last breath
In a black lung
Until you burn
Only then,
Can you speak of fire.
  Aug 2014 imadeitallup
Craig Harrison
If I told you I was a fireman and a building fell on me while I rescued children from a burning school
would you still look at my scars and judge me unfairly

If I told you I pushed an old lady out the way of a speeding car
would you still look at my limp and judge me unfairly

If I told you I gave everything I own to charity
would you still look at me for been homeless and judge me unfairly

If I told you I had cancer 3 times
would you still look at my bald head and judge me unfairly

I am more than what you see
please don't judge me
imadeitallup Aug 2014
I don't expect you to understand
Why I recoil when
You extend your arms and hands
Why I brace for impact
Within the trajectory of your touch
It is warm,
and I am cold.
It is wind,
and I am stone.
IF YOU STEAL THIS POEM, OR ANY OTHER POEMS OF MINE. I WILL FIND YOU, AND I WILL COME AFTER YOU LEGALLY. I AM SOOO SICK OF SEEING THIS POEM ALL OVER THE INTERNET WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S NAME UNDER IT. I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN LIVE WITH YOURSELVES. STEALING OTHERS WORK AND CLAIMING IT AS YOUR OWN. BUT ALL OF THESE ARE COPYRIGHTED SONGS. SO YOU BETTER HOPE I DON'T CATCH YOU. P.S. THANKS TO ALL OF THE PEOPLE FINDING AND TELLING ME ABOUT THESE FAKES. I APPRECIATE THE LOYALTY. :)
imadeitallup Aug 2014
It starts with a thought,
And you think almost nothing of it
There's poison working it way
From your brain to your heart
Pumping black blood
Through your veins
By the time you bleed,
It will be too late

She's not the cure,
She is the strain.

And you feel it in your bones
It won't leave you alone
And you chase the only escape
From the constant pain
And you love every sick second
All the terror and the tension

So you've got this nervous tick
And you just can't control it
That's her working on your last nerve
She's flirting with disaster
Her love like a pathogen,
By the time you have any symptoms
You'll have one foot
in the gave

She's not the cure,
She is the strain.

And you feel it in your bones
It won't leave you alone
And you chase the only escape
From the constant pain
And you love every sick second
All the terror and the tension
A lyric I wrote a while back...
  Jul 2014 imadeitallup
Sarah Spang
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.
  Jul 2014 imadeitallup
Kathryn Dixon
You fade...
Like a bruise.

Like the ones your mouth left on my neck and shoulders with its lustful pressure.
Your teeth, which brought moments of bright pain/pleasure,
Are now bared in an artificial, animal smile.

Your lips, which parted to ******* skin like it was salvation,
Barely part now to speak to me.
You whispered my name like a prayer.
You screamed it like a curse.
You sighed it in contentment,
And now you won't even speak it in passing.

Your hands, which half-playfully pulled my hair...
Now won't pause to brush it from my face.

All these parts of you,
None more telling than your eyes.
Those new windows, which once let me pry...
Now have blinds drawn tight behind them,
Leaving only a pretty, shiny reflection-
A passing, glancing imitation-
Of the passion they once held
When they beheld
Me.

No color left to them but the muddy colors of
Boredom,
And possibly mistrust.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Like the one you left on my mind with your brilliant conversation
And beautiful, rusty prose.
Like the many you left on my tongue...
Which now can speak nothing but trite and meaningless words,
Which now can barely remember the shapes
Of all the shimmering, liquid phrases it spoke to you
That seemed so important at the time.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Once lover and friend,
Now barely one
And never the other again.
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