mel - Hello Poetry

mel Jun 2018

Naked

Neglected souls,
Fearing not death,
But life itself.
Chained to our torment,
And known to most as menaces.

Forcing our pain on the innocent.

Maybe, just, maybe,
We don’t have to be misunderstood.

But alas, our fate is solitude leading to our deaths.

For, we are the people who make you lock your doors,
And fear for your lives.

We are criminals.

mel Jun 2018

Combustion

It was on top of me like a force begging to be reckoned with.

It crushed into me, bleeding into me, as I bled into it.

Red, so bold against the black & white of this world.

Was this my fault?
My doom.

I was dead.
She was dead.

But then she clawed her way up from the dead,
Seeping our of my skin, with every breath taken.

The heat was suffocating.

mel Jun 2018

Lament

Sunken lovers,
Trapped in the bottom of their glasses,
Put their bottoms up,
For the fragments of themselves that they’ve lost under these bottles.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m a murderer,
Am I the one who lead them to their deaths.

For after my life was pried from my torn hands,
They drowned themselves in whiskey bottles and tears.

mel Jun 2018

The Death Ballad

Fragmented thoughts,
m u t i l a t e d     b r a i n
Torn hands,
n u m b
A sympathetic glare,
g l a z e d   e y e s
Muted lips,
s e m i p e r m a n e n t l y
A centipede of bones,
s p i n a l   c h o r d
A flicker between life and death.
i n   h e r   e y e s

mel Jun 2018

Hollow

G u t t e d    w o r d s
Hang in the air,
Filling my lungs,
With the weight of despair.

Dragging me to the edge;
Of my mentality.
Tainted by bile,
Existing, gripping the ledge.

Staring
D
O
  W
   N
Into the deep, immense void.
Leaning over,
D
R
  O
   P
    P
    I
      N
       G
my crown.

mel Jun 2018

bathing in the moonlight

I strip myself of these tattered clothes,

And dig my feet into the earth below.

Breathing out my hidden identity,

For in this breath, I can be free.

At a young age,

To the moon I would plea,

To undo these shackles chained to this alternate reality.

Save my soul,
And bury me with the moon.

It will all be over soon.

mel Jun 2018

Buried Innocence

Carved with careless fingers,
Traced by a toddler,

Occupying its mind with crayons.

A raw thought came to mind,

Carve the skull with colored variety,
Condoned silence.

Then, oh, how the colors swam.