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Jun 2014 · 661
i wont cry
paul hope Jun 2014
stil so very stil
wrapped in my coffin shelter
of carboard and wood
my sleeping bag wears me like a second skin
it keeps me safe and warm
protects me from harm
mothers , shields , hides me away

if i close my eyes real tight
i can go anywhere i please
sunny beaches
sleepovers
camping with my family
trying to cook sausages and burgers
on the disposable barbicue
laughing , joking, healing, loving

being part of something good
if i close my eyes real tight
i can even fly
swim vast oceans
climb to the top of the highest mountains
heal the sick, end the poverty

i can sing, dance, even love
i can do anything i choose
i can even pretend my wrists dont hurt
and their is not blood seeping from them
from newly opened cuts

if i close my eyes real tight
i can lie in my sleeping bag
feel the life tickle and tricle from me
i can sleep, sleep, sleep
a kiss on the cheek
not a peep
i can even raise a smile
before i die
Jun 2014 · 436
i hate you
paul hope Jun 2014
take this desease from inside my mind
take me back into your womb
and this time, please try, try, try, and want me
just that, have a happy little chap
the kind of baby people clap
they smile and say, isnt he lovely, special
in his own kind of way
a bundle of joy, not a toy
to be discarded at birth, to be put last not first
not a thing, i am not a thing
i am something that grew within
you, you, you, you

i hate you, i hate you, i hate you
i am sorry, i am so sorry for being me
sorry for not being pleased
sorry for all the ****, and what comes with it
for all the false hope i couldnt cope, with

for the person i am, the boy, the man
the life thats a shamb
sorry for the whole ******* mess
for causing you such distress
i hate you, i hate you, i love you

i am sorry for crying blood red tears
crying, slowly dying, showing cowardly fear
i just want you near, close to me
keeping me safe, the way its supposed to be
not darkness, ******* endless anxiety

i hate you, i hate them, i hate false friends
i hate the people that pretend
their life isnt ****, and get away with it
i hate it when, the pain never goes away
i hate you because you never say

those three little ******* words
i love you, i love you, i love you
how hard can it be mother
would you prefer me to smother
in this **** i call a life, an exsistance
one step away from an injection in my vein
just something to ease the pain
i hate you , i need you
i hate thats its true
i hate that you left me on the shelf
but most of all i hate  myself
Jun 2014 · 789
dark world
paul hope Jun 2014
darkness can come over us at any time, when we least expect it
turns our day into night, my darkness hides monsters, they are faceless
and yet each one,has my face, a face of mistakes
each bloodsoaked line, tells its own story
a grain of sand in a lifetime, of blood guts, and glory
a page in a book, a look into someones life
a good read, or a reason to hide, float away on the tide

i watch people, not people like me, there arnt any
just regular mr and mrs smith
i watch them shop, chat, buy, sell, argue,
i watch them watch me, i wonder do we all just watch each other
do sisters watch brothers, sons and daughters,
fathers and mothers, we all watch the clock, tick tock
time running out, death getting closer,life going out
people rush to get somewhere, rush to get back
sit for 5 mins and think about rushing, for this and that
not taking time to chat, laugh, or nap
no time to rest, just headless chickins
searching for slim pickings, life has to offer

sheep that bleet, waiting to be meat, on some fat ******* table
stuffing it in, relaying some useless fable
to guests that have requests, to be entertained
wine and dine, pass the time, like fat swines
feeding and breeding, living to eat, to consume
we are nothing, nothing that matters anyway
we just eat, bulshit, die, and fade away
we are here for a short stay, in this coffin life
living in stone tombs, for a price
noyone cares, noyone is nice, we are all rats and mice

kids and a wife
a sharp knife, to cut my own throat
bleed me dry, make me cry
leave this life, its not nice,
daytime fading, darkness waiting, life escaping
i dont care, nothing left here for me anymore
i am sick of being life,s *****
cant do it , feel sick, cant look in the mirror, to face myself
i am a blank expression,
eyes cloud over, time has run out, i am free, dont cry for me
i am finally where i need to be,
alone, in the ground, not a sound,
cold, old, no more storys to be told
just darknesss
Jun 2014 · 510
drowning
paul hope Jun 2014
drowning

i am drowning
being slowly dragged under by the weight of my guilt
cosumed in my bed
as i lay warm inside my emotional quilt
it layers me like i layer myself
layer upon layer , upon layer , upon layer
my invisible angels watch over me
kneeling in prayer, to someone that isnt there
at the side of my bed
they are manifestations, pehaps halusinations
dreamed up inside my head
the reside on an even keel
with demons and the dead

am i a freckle on a pretty girls face
or mabye an obsolete number
that has no place
in this life or the next
am i a love letter,  a text
perhaps the next phone call
to say the one you love
wont be comming home today
life demands he stays
under the car broken and twisted
soon to be listed
as just another dead brother, son, friend, father
to a little one
who will now have to rely on mum
as the important one

its getting late
as i lie here at night , full of fright
clinging to thoughts that are not right
but without them , i might , not make it
without devils and demons
to help me fake it, what does it leave
the cold touch of reality,  ****
sludge ****  thick and black
hanging on my back, breaking my spine
leaching off everything thats mine
**** comming out of my eyes, my ears
**** comming out of my mind, making me blind
to everything that makes sence
**** that builds a fence
to keep nice things away
at least for today

if i remove the mask
how long will the next one last
life demands so much
my masks cant keep up
have to wear a new one each day
smile politely and say, lying of course
i am really ok
then i turn and go back to my life of clay
moulding, folding this and that way
ptting on another face
to help me get through another day
Jun 2014 · 718
cardboard city
paul hope Jun 2014
cardboard  city

As i sit in my shelter watching the drops of rain
i sometimes  find it hard to contain
my anger and fear
at being alone and trapped here
i watch the people as they walk by
taking their greatest care not to catch my eye
their guilt is no suprise
you would think people would have to care
but no they just stare
i am not sure who or what they see there
not a person , just a thing
throw it a penny and it may dance and sing
like a performing bear, nobody cares
not even about the bears
a bear needs people to care about it
i need people to care
i am not a peice of ****
to be wiped off thier shoes
nor is the bear a prisoner
and should not be kept in a zoo

each day i look in the bins, for food i can eat
for clothes on my back, shoes on my feet
its strange what people throw away
i guess i did it myself
when i had somewhere to stay
with people that loved me, people that cared
parents and siblings , with whom i shared
happyness , dry tears , shallow felt fears
a hug , a kiss, things i miss
companionship, love, friendship not hate
not being alone scared and afraid

oh sad world , where do i belong
i live inside my head, where others tag along
darkness , shadows, everything forlorn
hopeless , cruel , cold and unkind
i live in the pit , that i call my mind

happyness. sadness, two sides of my mood
two sides of my face, one nasty , one good
one angel , one devil, one dedus, one don
one body, one funtion, to die after being born

oh mother , oh father, what should i do
what happened to the love, from both of you
i seem ever alone, far from the crowd
i just want to scream help me ,  aloud
as i sit in my shelter, watching , waiting
feeling, lost, hungry, tired, alone
afraid, thinking of home
contemplating

death
this about my life when i was homeless, except i have changed the *** of the person
Jun 2014 · 662
the void
paul hope Jun 2014
feelings

feel so cold, nothing seems real
feel like i used to feel
when the wheels in my head
stopped going forward
went backwards instead
so many things in my head
that shouldnt be there
shouldnt be anywhere

mabye inside the mind
of some poor ******* that couldnt find
his way through life
clawing, knawing, at his own bones
all the while thinking of home
mind wandering
like mine does all the time
quoting some line
from a film or a song

convincing yourself
thers some hidden meaning in it
for why your life died
and went so badly wrong
and turned to ****

feel so lonely, if only
someone could take my pain away
pain visited me such a long time ago
and stayed
feel lost, feel the cold frost of life
sending a chill down my spine
feel numb
feel like i want to strike out
at anyone and anything
feel like my body isnt even mine

stare past my window
far far away, eyes stray
eyes discuise, the person behind the mask

eyes lie
mask wears me like a second skin
mask hides the people that are within
my head
today my mask will be; don, dedus, donna
mabye someone else instead
feel frightened
feel like i just want to be held
in the arms of someone
that can keep me safe
keep me out of my own hell
thats in my confused mind

feel like my barbedwire thoughts
are so kind, feel blind
unable to see even me
feel like i wasnt conceived
unable to believe i even exist

in this manifestation
cold invitation
of an existance , that is my life
feel like i want my wife, to sort out my life

feel like i cant feel
feel like i want to strip the skin from my bones
feel like i want to go home
feel cold, so very cold, feel old
feel alone
my poetry is conffesional poetry

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