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The little voice begging for love and freedom from classroom is mine
I  a child
Who harbours unspoken words and wavered feelings in my heart
If you let my spirit out of this cage, a beautiful world I'll paint
Now I am bound by chains of failure and mothers unemphatic nature
Every invisible second steals a pint of blood and bucks of flesh off me
Mother is now the pain I see, an undying tormentor she turned to be
On my skin she left her palm slaps and upbeat attitude that gets me grounded
The unpacked toys on the shelf describes me, a missing puzzle lying on the counter defines me
Jack and Saldy are now my favorite mares, the spirits by my window at night they are
On a daily I receive the backlash for not coming down for dinner
A loner in a busy house I am, neither living nor dead
Everyone thinks I am reserved, NO
There's peace in returning to my bed at night, a reviving hope of not seeing another rising sun
Mother can you look at my future, you've murdered my dreams of playing cricket
Do you even notice the pain in my eyes, or the numb little robot you've created out of me
I am complaining to the deaf ears of nature, broken and cold my spirit have turned to be
The wind is upon me, I shall sink my ship to let the sailor live
Whoever sees my body at the graveside should know I was a happy child
Before my demons haunted me.
Emphatic: How we treat and react towards each other adds worth or reduces their worth and self-esteem. Families, friends and society plays a vital role in building a person, just be yourself and true in any dealing with any person. What matters is how you left them not how you met them.
 Sep 2018 JL Smith
Cné

if you are the ocean
then I am the mist
that kisses the morning
the way I’d want
to be kissed

if you are the ocean
then anchors aweigh
we'll sail through the evening
and on to the light
the daystar is dawning
we'll keep to the right

like Peter and Wendy
to Neverlands' door
we'll sail on forever
and touch every shore

if you are the ocean,
come wash me away
to some misty morning
and there we will play

if you are the ocean,
then sing me a song
of sailors and treasures
and places long gone

if you are the ocean
come wash me away
to a place, together we’ll
forever stay...

 Sep 2018 JL Smith
Saumya
And one fine day, She uttered her truths,
A truth that had been, ever misunderstood:
That people were great, some often good,
But oh their certainty, stability are such goods,
Each in the control of time's  hook,
Ever transforming like a fountain or brook,
But none can complete with
The loyalty of books.
It's intensity, it's intimacy and all forsooth,
Are truly the virtues that nurtures one like good food.

The time, it's tides, or the world in blue,
All tells, all revolve round a nucleus,
Called 'Book'.
It lets you have a look, inside your very own look.
People come, some wait some go,
Who knows what, why, and who'd next go ?
There are the grains of time bound sand,
They slip off swift, from your happy land.

But oh a book, Once in your hand,
Is the precious companion,
For your very life's span,
As it nurtures your soul,
Into a wiser man's!

And Oh when the world,
Doesn't give a ****,
Why not approach a book,
That gives you plans,
Of letting go it all ,
that isn't a cinch worth your plans?

Stick in with these gems, the most then you can
For they tell that, what most often can't
Of life, it's creator, it's creatures, it's land,
Of all that you've wondered,
And still can.

The people, the time, all creatures, and land
All change, all change,
In time's hand,
But ah! The books,
And worthy men,
Who like and love to read
Often, often, as much as they can,
Are but Indeed blessed by a 'friend'
That can never fail them,
They can approach as they wish,
And any time, as much as they can.

The tides, the storms, are but their friends,
For they sail them off to other land,
A land that may embrace,
The persistence in them.
They endure, endure, as much as they can,
But Oh! That they complain,
Show pride in them?
Is something that we never see of them.

They're eternal, they're lively,
And inspire men,
Even when the rains,
Imbibes it's words
And takes them off into a land.

Their words, their thoughts,
Are like seeds in a garden,
That feeds well our love for devotion,
And feeds our delicate heart and brain.

Oh if I get to chose between the two,
A book, and a wealthy person,
A book, A book, is what I'll choose,
As it's my undying loyal friend,
An indispensable manure,
For my mind's garden!
All your feedbacks are most welcome :)
 Sep 2018 JL Smith
John Marneslow
I’ve prayed, I’ve begged, I’ve cried “God please take this darkness from me or just let me die.” My mind is a prison, inside or torture cells. I can’t escape it, even now it feels like hell.  The memories of failures and the whirlwind of regret search damning things I never can forget. How can I survive this pain and turn it into bliss the pressures of the world around me turn it all to ****. The longer I go on in life the less I seem to care. I sleep for many hours, which to me is like a fresh breath. I wonder how much longer before I reach my death? I don’t think I’ll make it unless I find relief. I can’t ignore the problems, I can’t escape my cell. I analyze the world the people and myself and entangle In that net. Like a computer seeing each virus the rent. Though I can’t drag others into my chaos filled mind lest they to get trapped. I can’t let them get too close, it’s for the best.
Like a computer seeing each virus the rent. Though I can’t drag others into my chaos filled mind lest they to get trapped. I can’t let them get too close, it’s for the best.

I go into the darkest part of my mental prison and in a lonely dark and sell a voice calls out to me quotation mar I go into the darkest part of my mental prison and in a lonely dark and sell voice calls out to me quotation ” release me, let me take away your pain with me you’ll have only everything to gain.”  I look closely and see it as me but his self without regret… Instead he’s filled with rage monster who was created at such an early age. He fears no human, God or pain. He would cause destruction  and blood would rain.  Destruction of it all and final piece is his only a game. He can withstand hell for it is his home but as for me how much longer can I roam ?
People around
All alone
Never accepted
Always rejected
Cast to the depths
Exceeded feelings reps
Wiped clean
Never seen
Used machine
Broken part
Verbal shopping cart
Bumps and bruises
The one everyone uses
Contamination - Evaporation
Less then able
Bridge - Broken cable
Life of dismay
Just another day
?
 Sep 2018 JL Smith
Rose Amberlyn
memories can repeat,
like a catchy song on the radio.
stuck in your head,
missing some verses,
but the chorus is strong.

whiskey can help,
just for a bit.
Hoping it passes,
and biting my lip.

I guess I'll wait.
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