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"Don’t hurt her
She’s the one person here undeserving of pain
Not now, not ever, certainly not like this"
(shut up.)
5 days later
you left as though i was nothing
it hurts, I'm hurt, i hate you,
(i'd let you come back if you wanted)
you turned to your ex and told her
(the day you slammed the door
with my hand lodged firmly in it)
you hated being mad at each other
the way you asked her not to hurt me
then hurt me more than anything
 Aug 30 PhantomDreamer
nivek
someone, something, somehow
hits the spot

a bullseye to the mind
a recognition of the heart
 Aug 30 PhantomDreamer
alia
It isn't a crime,
this ache of being left behind,
but it feels like one,
like I'm guilty of wanting more.

Three voices weave a tapestry
bright and endless,
and I smile as if
my thread is still stitched in.

But the laughter still echoes without me,
and I sit quietly,
a ghost in the group photo,
a shadow at their table.

I mute their chatter,
not because I hate them,
but because I can't keep watching
a world where I am fading.

They did't do me wrong.
Heck,
They didn't even notice.
And maybe that's the sharpest cut,
to be nothing worth wounding.
basically a continuation of my poem "trio in a quadro". just whats happening now.
I read somewhere during church that we will always fall just barely short of entering Heaven's pearly gates, no one is perfect or deserving enough as we all sin. While Jesus is said to have taken all our sin, he left us here to be with his father on the third day instead of leaving a body to rot like the rest of us.

He may have been perfect before, but our sins will forever stain his pure innocence. God had left him for that day, let him stay covered in filth and blood and pain, his own son. he took him up and forgave him because he was the only one "without" sin. yet if he took it from us, shouldn't he be called the only one with sins?

people commit sins all the time, but we are forgiven if we say a few words written hundreds of years ago and lay in water in a building built on greed.

Jesus is said to be both 100% God and 100% Human, but that math simply cannot add up.

If the universe and everything in it was made in 7 days, we should be advancing much quicker than we have.  

People often tell me that I should be an atheist if I don't believe in all this, but that's the thing;

I do believe. I love my god so dearly. it just pains me to think that we could possibly be stuck in a cycle of generational lies and forgetting the true meaning of what we are to do as good Christians.

Love God, Love People, Follow Jesus.

Fun fact: Taking the lords name in vain does not mean saying "Oh my God" or "God dang it" is a sin. It means, do not call Yourself God. we say gods name all the time, each and every single day, every hour, every few seconds really.

Gods name (YAHWEH) is like our breath. if we live and breathe God, then we breathe his name in (Yah) and out (weh) every few seconds to stay alive.
God is our life, our salvation.

I wish to share my thoughts, fears, and beliefs with other people, and rather than be ostracized for what I think or feel in my religion, I want to feel accepted and loved as Christians claim to do.

I want to feel like I can talk about things I don't understand, what I choose to believe, and my hopes to better myself in faith, without it meaning that I am a heretic. I choose to think God would want us to accept people no matter what they choose or how they think of things.

God is the all forgiving savior, would he really care if I choose to think it may have happened a bit differently than was written by men hundreds of years dead and buried?

I breathe Christ, just the same as you.

Speak life, Poets.
Remember the most important commandments: Love the Lord your God with your whole body, soul, and mind, and love thy neighbor as yourself.
I sit in the waiting room, tap tap tapping away with my foot, my brain simply incapable of slowing down. I have been in here for days, weeks, hours really, my body sinking deeper into this uncomfortable chair. I bite at my thumbnail, chewing it raw until it breaks skin. The room without windows and only two doors, one to go away and never be helped, and one for the doctor, who doesn't exactly help anyway. I sit there tap tap tapping away with my foot, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“Next!” calls out the only staff I have seen since arriving, she scratches notes into a paper, the ink seems to bleed like a ****. I stand and walk up, I am the only patient left, perhaps it is my turn? She looks up apologetically and begins the torrent of questions.
“Have you filed your paperwork weeks in advance?”

Yes.

“Have you made an appointment, and traveled the four hours out of state to see the one specialist close enough to drive?”

Yes.

“Have you filed with insurance that hardly covers anything you really need?”

Yes, can I go in now?

“Not just yet dearie, wait a little while!”

I sit back in the chair and wait, wait, wait, my foot tap tap tapping away.

Hours, seconds, minutes, the room fading away.

“The Doctor will see you now.” the nurse says, with a smile. I walk right past, into the second door, though my heart is screaming for me to run out the first.

Sitting at his desk, the Doctor barely glances at me as he waves to the chair.

“What seems to be the problem?”

I try to remember, to muster up the words, to pick and choose the worst of the problem. I want to mention how my brain is too fast, never ceasing to sleep or eat or stop at all, I must mention how my foot never seems to stop tap tap tapping away when I sit with nothing to do, I should tell him about the hours becoming days weeks months in the blink of an eye and then they are gone, I will explain to him how the way I talk doesn't seem to make sense to people, I want to show him my fingers, all snarled and chewed from my biting and worrying.

Well Doctor, it started like this;

I was normal once, like you and the others, I used to be able to sit for hours without tap tap tapping away and chewing my fingers, and losing all time in the blink of an eye. I used to be perfectly normal and everything was ok.
Then for some odd reason, I started to do all these silly things, affecting my life and ruining myself. Doctor, I used to be perfectly normal.
I remember once, i was ok, able to sit and not fret or fray, Doctor I promise I don’t mean to rhyme, it’s simply something that happens sometimes.

The Doctor sighs “It's plain to see, I know what's wrong with your memory. You have the mind of a poet, a heart filled with pain, your veins redirected it, it's now in your brain. There isn’t a cure, you’re stuck for a while” The doctor gave me a notebook, a pen, and a smile. “Write down your thoughts, your words everyday, you may not remember but I think that's ok. Take these home, and you will find, it might just help with your poet's mind.”

I took the notebook, the pen, and tried to smile, I walked out the first door and stood for a while. I got in my car as the rain started pouring, I took out my supplies and started my story:

“I sit in the waiting room, tap tap tapping away with my foot, my brain simply incapable of slowing down.”
Anxiety
In the early days
I can’t always remember
Things were so full of yellow and blue
And sunrise and sky
And sprinklers and bikes
Then with parting screams
Life was orange and brown
And sunset and birds
And movies and tears
In it’s wake I drowned with grey and maroon
And clouds and hoodies
And work and sighs
Consumed by the dark I could finally breath
And I became yellow and blue once more
I am now a natural gem,
A mix of murk and clear,
Different colors or shades.

I am now a healed piece of earth,
A patch of glow over the ashes of disease,
Diverse as I breathe in fresh air.
The water comes and brings the earth,
The earth turns to ash as the fire rolls in,
The fire's ash turns into the wind,
The wind brings the water again.
 Aug 30 PhantomDreamer
nivek
humans with monster intentions
twisted minds to justify savagery
heartless to a core of stubborness
-denial of sister and brotherhood
 Aug 30 PhantomDreamer
nivek
who could truly say 'I am the way'
except Jesus
 Aug 30 PhantomDreamer
Xio
My heart was heavy, so I wrote, turned ghosts to words, let poems float. You read, you stayed, you understood—and that alone made bad days good.

So here’s my thanks, a whispered sigh—
I’ll step away, but not goodbye.
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