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 Jul 2013 Jordan Smith
AJ
General
 Jul 2013 Jordan Smith
AJ
This is killing me.
You are killing me.
You sick little ****.
I'm not going to answer your calls.
It is making me feel like I'm in a baracade.
And you have opened fire.
You're trying to luer me out
With ****** voicemails
"Baby I wanna *******".
"I love it when you scream no".
"Make me a sandwhich doll face".
"Let me ******* to death".
I will rip out my own heart before I answer.
Before I leave my bunker.
******* you sadist pig.
Said the king to the colonel,
'The complaints are eternal,
That you Irish give more trouble
Than any other corps.'

Said the colonel to the king,
'This complaint is no new thing,
For your foemen, sire,
have made it A hundred times before.'
The Night is dark and dark it stays
Until an even darker day
The darkest room, the door is locked
The key is lost or thrown away

The windows shut and sealed so tight
To face another dark, dark night
With crowded thoughts I stand alone
In darkened rooms there is no light

To see to touch to feel to hear
This darkened room is what I fear
To find the light this room should have
To search this room, how near, how far?*




© 1998 Paul Bolton
I suffer from depression, this was my first poem regarding the illness and how i felt and the fear of it after being diagnosed at 21. It still relates to me now. The dark room being my mind.
 Jun 2013 Jordan Smith
AJ
1:17
 Jun 2013 Jordan Smith
AJ
It is one seventeen in the morning,
And I want a toasted bagel with cream cheese.
I want a swimming pool.
I want a hot pink LL Bean backpack
Filled with all of my happy memories,
An ample supply of band aids,
And some chocolate caramel cream savers.
I want to walk across the country in five minutes.
I want to find an empty treasure chest on a deserted island.
I want to freeze the world at one seventeen.
I want to blow out vanilla scented candles.
I want to want what I don't need to want.

— The End —