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A saddened heart
A soulful mind
A cherished love
From loving times

A missed thought
of forgotten times
makes me wonder
about our lives

Things so good
Things so bad
Truthful days
of love gone bad

I often wonder
of love so true
is our life
only blue

I tell myself
love is true
only to know
I love you
Darkened gray skies, followed by a moonless night
Blowing trees, howling sounds, pouring rains falls upon them

Not knowing what this time will bring them
So they can only pray to see the daylight

As the waves crash ashore and the waters flood the streets
Debris flying like bullets as car topple and houses are flattened

The morning light only shows shredded trees and a lifeless landscape
Water poisoned, no food, no shelter, no electricity, gone to the winds

They have only 3 choices, to pray, to wish and to beg for help
What is one to do after travesty hits there life not just their home
He finds himself on his 6th birthday
Shaken in a darkened corner
Hoping for a small sign of anything
A sound of a key jiggling the hasp lock
Wondering if this is his punishment or hell
Looking for a passage to another life
Darkness seems to reign over his life
He constantly cry's out "why" to no one
Which echos in his head endlessly
He try's to gather his fears to deal with them
His fears become his never ending thoughts
Could his fears be his fear
Stuck in this dark corner
Which holds him like a magnet
Learning his worst fear
Dark Corners and locked doors
Which was his daily punishment as a child

Older in life I sometimes find him crying in a corner
With the door closed and the light off
Only to know of his fear
Which still traps him to this day
He is now 45

He was punished for not blowing out all the candles
These things happen to many
I could tell you stories that
you would not believe
me, all I got was a leather belt
or willow tree branch
If you were a coloring book,
I would be mad,
That after opening the cover,
There's no spaces left for me to color.

If you were water,
I would freeze you,
Immobile,
And gently stroke my fingers across your surface.

If you were wooden,
You'd be the finest sculpture,
That I would burn with every touch in every crease,
And leave ashen.

If you were an egg,
I'd take the utmost care to not drop you,
And the only place I would break your shell,
Is at the bottom where I'd fit perfectly.

If you were a string,
I'd tie you up tightly around me,
So that you could never leave me,
And I could always feel you on my skin.

If you were lava,
I would gladly burn off my flesh,
And I wouldn't hesitate to go inside you,
Because I'm used to feeling you down to my bones.
In response to WickedHope's poem "If I Were An Egg".
I now present myself to you,
'Cause I know that I'm runnin' through,
These words and lines so much reused,
They've left my readers all confused,
And though some likely have diffused,
I hope the rest are still amused,
And if that ends right at the cue,
I hope I'm remembered like a favorite tattoo.

I present myself to you,
As the me you never knew,
Not the one of past times, blue,
But smarter, wiser, and renewed,
Now that I've learned to take a clue,
And I can see the moon,
I will admit you're still imbued,
Inside a heart that closed too soon.

I do present myself to you,
As one grown past that love taboo,
I've given up that old pursuit,
And thrown away what you first threw,
I've found myself and seek to spew,
What will become my great debut,
And though I'm independent, times two,
I hope you'll be proud when you see I grew.

And so I present myself to you,
Miss Yuki-yuki-yu,
Because I did make it through,
Even when away was where you flew,
And though what hasn't changed is few,
And I'm stuck again like glue,
The one thing that remains true,
Is that I still do love you.
Because even with you it's still not enough,
I still need more,
And it's not that it's any of your fault,
It's just that I've overdosed too many times.
It's like loading a bowl,
Then clearing it in one hit,
I never stop there,
I always keep going.
Sure, it feels good while it lasts,
But I know when I come back down to earth,
I'll only feel worse,
I'm just not high enough.
I need to feel that release,
I need to forget,
I need to leave,
Abandon everything I can't stand.
I'm addicted to those things,
Oxytocin that makes me want to try,
Dopamine that presents me true pleasure,
Serotonin that makes happiness last days.
But you see,
I've built up tolerance,
In every ounce of my body,
And any less can't suffice.
I want to say I love you,
But I'm not sure that it's true,
Or if I'm not done feeling good,
And I want to believe it's more true than it is.
But even still,
I just can't let you go,
I'm sorry,
But this is going to hurt.
Listening to MergingMoon's cover of Hit Me Baby One More Time helped inspire this.
I believe I have logic
Yet, I cannot find my brain

I believe I can see the future
Yet, I can not find myself

I believe I have a purpose
Yet, it might have been a dream

I believe I used to have a voice
Yet, I never make a sound

I believe I do what I've been told
Yet, I don't want anyone to come around

I can feel their eyes are watching me
Yet, no one is her, so I lose myself again

Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Yet, sometimes I still pretend

I can't remember how this got started
Yet, I can tell you exactly how it will end

I' hide my feelings
Yet, I never look for them

I'm still alive
Yet, I only bleed a little each day

I'm writing this on a little piece of paper
Yet, hoping someday I might find it

I wish this could have been any other way
Yet, I don't know what else I can do
can not find my brain
Darkened and lit by a single red light,
     shaded and hidden by the night....

     A place of fantasies and desires,
          for the lonely, unsure and unstable....

          For some it is their life of horror,
               for some it is their life of pleasures....

               For a payment you can buy a life,
                    for an hour you can be whoever you want...

                    You can buy a scream, a slap, a tear, a laugh,
                          you can script your words you want to hear spoken...

                          As you return day in and day out, looking for your girl
                                              in the house of the ill repute..............................
I.
On occasion
the world is more
then us mere mortals
who inhabit it can handle.

II.
Quite frankly,
existing is hard.

III.
Doing it without a hand to hold
is ten times harder
and much less soft
when you fall down.
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