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 Dec 2016 mrmonst3r
Tana Young
Dead blood pours out of me
Out of this contaminated being
That is now me
Infecting my precious sea
My stale blood ruining it
Like it ruined me
I believe it's my heart
That makes this lonesome carcass
So utterly repulsive
Or maybe I've been in this sea too long
It has eaten away at me, now I'm rotting
And there is nothing left of me to see
Not done yet still adding to it... Just wanted to share... Feedback
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.
 Dec 2016 mrmonst3r
ln
pain
 Dec 2016 mrmonst3r
ln
i am twirling in a dark space
the door is slammed shut, i heard the keys were right down the door
there are no windows,
there is no laughter

all i have known is my head locked between my thighs,
all i have screamed for is the help that never seemed to be enough,
all i have felt is the tears running down my face,
all i have heard is the laughter - this silence is deafening

i have tried to reach for the door but i can't find it,
how do i let the light in?
how do i open up my heart?
how do i let this pain float away?
how do i ask sadness to let me go?

i am stuck in this room,
i am stuck against this wall and i can't see,
the dark doesn't scare me anymore,
this now feels like home.


the dark is my home,
don't call my name for i am long gone,
all that is left of me is the shell of the person i once was,
i am a walking, breathing, corpse

don't ask me to feel,
all i remember is pain.
don't piece the broken fragments,
i want to be gone.

*i want to be gone.
1043

Lest this be Heaven indeed
An Obstacle is given
That always gauges a Degree
Between Ourself and Heaven.
By a Hum.
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