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Apr 2021 · 85
Maybe it's Time
Meghan Apr 2021
I think back,
and it was,
it was this bad before.

You think it will end differently, but you know what's in store.

The older you get, the harder it is to maintain.
A machine run on poison cannot be sustained.
It cracks and creaks,
and liver fluid, it leaks.

You plan your life,
not by years,
but by weeks.

Repeating affirmations cannot keep you sane.
You go to work, you do yoga, and you stay in your lane.

But the sweats, the shakes, the numbness and the shame.

It's always the last time,
but it's always the same.

You are driving down a one way.
Full speed towards the end.
To feel something, or nothing,  or to avoid it all again.

Who can you run to or pray to from above?
Who can you talk to without hurting those that you love?

You have no one but yourself.
But you don't care if you fail.
And you know that others have far grimmer tales.

So you keep on grinding,
keep doing the same **** everyday.
And pray that the pandemic will take it all away.

You felt this all when you were younger,
wrote it down and talked it out.

But that didn't help, you moved on
but it lingers,
explodes,
and comes out.

What is the purpose and why should I care?
What is the end goal and why am I here?

Stupid, *******, emo ****,
an outlet to explore,
but instead, let's drink more.
Apr 2012 · 657
I d0 beli3ve I've gone m@d
Meghan Apr 2012
Impulsivity held back,
intensifies and attacks.
What I think I may feel,
doesn't make things less real.

Intentions are changing,
Motives rearranging,
Unable to stay stable,
With this craving that wont cave,
Strain for ******,
Fear the fall,
Get it, got it, lost it all.
Apr 2012 · 416
It could happen
Meghan Apr 2012
The perfect mix of high and low
The warmth of security that wont let go

The hands of a creator
The mind of a maker
The body of a man
The spirit with a plan

The perfect mix of wrong and right
Look at the dark but dwell in the light

The sound of joy
The heart of a boy
The fight of forgiveness
The feeling of let's win this
Apr 2012 · 300
Untitled
Meghan Apr 2012
The dogs define her
Feb 2012 · 806
Parasite
Meghan Feb 2012
Something once so sweet,
has turned oh so sour.
Past confidences and trust,
now used to exploit and gain power.

Using each other to survive.
Although each one is abused,
neither can die.

Each month becomes tougher,
for one to thrive the other must suffer.

He is now weak and he is lonely.
False memories of happiness
induce feelings of regret.
He now lacks purpose,
he now lacks sense.

She recognizes his agony and remembers the pain.
She provides minimal attention to barely keep him sane.

No room in a heart that has used up all its tears.
Conditioned to resist through past abandonment and fear.

He takes what she gives him,
although lacking satisfaction.
If only he could break down her walls, and once again, find true attraction.

Embarrassed and discouraged,
passion twists to resentment.

As the anger harbors,
he becomes independent.

He breaks away,
in need of a more gracious host.
She was almost ready,
she was so close.

In panic,
she cracks,
Her barriers fall apart.

What if that was the last chance she had to reopen her heart.

She is weak, she is lonely.
Unrealistic dreams twist her previous intents.

She loses all purpose.
She loses all sense.

Power hungry he basks,
in his temporary independence.

While she yearns,
she begs,
for more sufficient attention.

Her hopes diminish.
Despair exchanged for rage.
As her dependency falters,
his power wanes.

Stuck again he wants her.  
He needs her to feel alive.

She won’t give up control,
she holds tight to a fake pride

They both chase that high.
The adrenaline of that first kiss.
An unattainable sensation,
that is entertained through a string
of if onlys’ and what ifs?

The cycle is vicious,
will it ever cease?

This is not love,
it is a parasitic disease.

— The End —