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nivek Sep 24
too little, too much
words matter

carrying weight
beyond themselves
blackcat Sep 24
Predecessor of blinding statutes
You push the scripture down in the canyon
Wrapped up in the hearse of the American Dream
Claustrum of ivory towers you aim to self- destruct; how dare you?
Where are your pantheon of gods?
No light to save this place, this night
Stood up too fast & tripped on Life's velvet skin
Serpentine deception, venomous spite
Never ending, elipsing into Oblivion's refuge
How are flowers romantic?
Why are bouquets considered fancy?
How do we see them as sweet, as pleasant—
symbols of love in our bonds—
when these lives themselves are torn
from the roots that held them whole?

We cut their stems,
judging what is perfect enough to give.
Yet when our own skin is slit,
we call it damage,
not beauty.

We hand each other lives already dimming,
beauty already faltering,
and it matters to none of us—
does it?

As days rush past,
where do these flowers go?
Wounded, drying,
abandoned on tables,
or worse, tossed away.

Once they sparked a bond,
risking their own.

Perhaps flowers should never
have breathed upon this earth.
For as long as beauty exists,
our hands will always reach to destroy it,
and still wonder why there is no more.
Grief
is a knalled winter tree
barren, as its leaves have long since fell
to mix into the Earth
to make new life for the Spring
it is a painful process,
animalistic and wild
sometimes you do not know
if the tree will stand
tall for another year
but you will
you will carry life again
and it will be green
and lush
love it makes you happy love it makes you glad
gives you things in life that you never had
brings you lots of joy each and every day
makes you feel secure happy bright and gay.

a very special thing there within your heart
that is there forever and will never part
something that is true and will always be
something that will stay for eternity.
RED Sep 24
I grew too fast,
Yet not enough—
A child in silence,
An adult in rough.

Too young to be old,
Too old to be young,
My heart beats quietly
Where no song is sung.

I search for a place
That feels like mine,
But the world moves past
And I fall behind.
Even though I remain silent, it doesn’t mean that I am broken, innocence just completely stolen, you knew what you did was wrong but yet nothing came from it, trying to get justice for it all to go astray, you didn’t give a ******* were just able to walk away.

For me it’s different, flashbacks freeze me in my body, eyes darted at people who are just enjoying themselves, but I’m on the lookout for something to happen, it never does but I feel so trapped.

Justice comes in so many forms but yet I feel none, even though I have moved on my body doesn’t, the heart palpitations, my breathing stops, eyes keep moving and I begin to shake,

I don’t know why I feel this way, all I wanted was justice just one time, while you can move on and it doesn’t seem to matter to you.

Maybe one day just once I could get my body back, the road is long but I am on the right track.

My body is not something for you to enjoy anymore, it is a body that shows more love than it should at times. I know one day I will feel safe again.

But why must I feel like everyone is an enemy rather than a friend?
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