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 Sep 2013 Muted
Brett Atkisson
She said to hold on
And never let go
I told her I'm on for the whole ride
There were twists
And there were turns
But it couldn't throw me off...
Because I loved her...
And she loved me...
When the summer sun came out,
She went away until the leaves turned orange.
It was like she vanished...
Into thin air...
I didn't know why...
I would wonder what she was doing...
And if she was happy...
And if she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her...
If she still loved me like I loved her...
......
She told her friends I was horrible...
She told her family I was terrible...
I wasn't the only one she "loved"...
She left me in the fire...
She left me to die...
But....
Oddly...
My heart still belongs to her...
3 years went by so fast....
I never stopped to look around...
Never again...
NEVER again...
 Aug 2013 Muted
August
Wings of Eden
 Aug 2013 Muted
August
If you roam around my house,
              look about,
        up & down,
                           you'll find many paper cranes.

When I feel empty, I make so many,
                     and leave them random places.

You can find them here,
                and there,
          pretty much everywhere,
                              lined up on window panes.

I never felt the need to gather them,
                      and I most likely never will.

If I put them all together,
                 made sure it was forever,
           they could withstand the weather,
                             and there would be a thousand.
              
They say with a thousand cranes,
                       a wish is granted in your favor.

But I have no wishes,
               so I'll sleep with the fishes,
           after my hands tremble to the point of refrain
                                  & I can no longer make anymore paper cranes.
Amara Pendergraft 2013
 Jun 2013 Muted
Andrew P Marheine
A newborn, awaiting, decrepit, and rotting,
His mother waits for him to stir,
Her eyes emotionless and defensive,
Her dismal namesake will not return.
-
She gazes at his chest, hoping that his breast
Would return to a timelike rythm,
Alas, he is dead, putrified in his bed,
Arms outstretched to a broken woman.
She quietly gasps and inhales sobs,
While her tiny one stares at nothing,
Exhuming her fear of each and every tear,
She desperately clings on to something.
-
She could not stop this folly,
This tragedy entombed in holly.
The umbilical noose, too tight
She held on too strong,
He tried to fight along,
Unknowingly suffocating in her embrace, slight.
After his movement was stifled,
She peered over to the rifle,
That sat to protect the two of them,
She thought and was consumed,
With visions of Hell, and torture too,
She chanced it with an undying stem.
-
To paint a scene in words,
To describe the horror heard,
By no one when no one was there…
What is the magnitude of ******?
What lines are crossed to massacre?
And foretelling the wise ones fair.
-
In the end she sat in a rocking-bend,
The chair that carried him off to sleep,
He now lay in his cradle with sodden eyes,
Weary of counting so many sheep.
She had the sawn-off in her right hand,
The wall behind her, a portrait of her brains,
Half her face bereft of her body,
The white walls now hold crimson stains.
The infant’s hand lay through the gate,
As if even in death telling his mother “don’t do it”
The insignificant ominous one
Had lead her then right to it.
Her mouth agape, and jaw five feet from her,
Her right eye rolled back in the skull,
The blue baby seemed to look on in dead horror,
As his body witnessed in full.
The shotgun blast so strong and centered,
The power rocked her chair back and forth,
This creaking moan was all to be heard,
In this silent room forevermore.
 May 2013 Muted
Brett Atkisson
You are a sickness.
Your a ******* disease.
I caught you and I can't get rid of you.
You are in my system forever.
There is no cure for me.
Treatment.
Nothing.
I caught you hoping for love.
And all I got in the end was regret and the worst case of heart ache.
You've plagued so many people.
Ones I know.
Ones who are faceless to me.
It doesn't matter anymore.
Nothing matters anymore.
I'm alone again.
And I'm tired of not being good enough.
I'm tired of not being the standard.
I'm tired of being your host.
I'm tired of feeding you.
Bleeding for you.
Screaming for you.
Smiling for you.
Feeling for you.
Crying for you.
I'm done with you.
With life.
With the world.
Every tear is a story.
Every drop of blood is an ending.
And I'm all out of blood and tears.
Goodbye.
 May 2013 Muted
Jessica Cushman
her pure white skin
dyed with blood
and it had been
her first cut

she sat in the bathroom
music blasting through her earphones
her mind cluttered
she craved the security of death
yet she wanted to live

no one would know
she would mask the ache
keep a straight face

she knew her life was cut short
with that first stroke of the razor

that first cut
turned her into a down spiral
of gloom and terror
a mixed drink
of torment and limitations

but no one care
she just wanted one thing
she wanted to be free

*and she got her wish
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