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 27° 
Midnight
You wear leather
As dark as your heart
You speak words
As sharp as a knife

You smell of cigarettes
And sometimes cologne
You wreak of Jack Daniel's
But mostly depravity

You lurk in the shadows
And prey on the young
You desire a girl
But only one night

You tell her your lies
To trick her to stay
And then like a coward
You run away
I've been there, done that.
I was once that girl, but not  anymore.
 19° 
AS
Hormones dashing around spurring others to implode,
to explode,
to recklessly unload.
Keeping emotions brittle and cold.
Heightened,
someday's frightened.
Anxiety tightening,
jumbled,
jittering  mind.
Desperate for silence and calm from the unsettled,
erratic insides.
At the same time straining to be kind,
the patience in short supply.
Irritation of mine,
difficult to ride.
Seclusion,
a place to hide.
Biding the time,
to the work out all the riddles and rhymes.
Free,
no longer to be dominated or have a stolen lead.
No longer feeling the need to feed constantly.
Oh, why can't this be?
Strain of constant noise,
needing moments to grasp poise.
This isn't a ploy,
from there is no joy.
Tossed around like some bipolar toy,
to be constantly annoyed.
Not representative of the human being,
controlled and resistant to this chemical unleash.
In silence finding peace and a type of release,
not to burden others with this hormonal beast.
So pardon,
it's time to shut the door,
before I overwhelm in a deafening roar.


© 2018

Abigail Sheard
 17° 
Nylee
I hate watching how much freedom he gets to have
more than how little choices she is given by everyone.
 16° 
lena k
you stole my light
when i told you to stop
and you ignored my red light
and kept going
like my body was undiscovered land
and you were a colonizer.
perhaps my asking you to stop
turned you on
made you hungry.
you looked at me with your hungry eyes
like i was fresh meat
for you to take and have for yourself
ignoring my stop signs
cries
screams
because i am nothing more
than an object to you
made for your manipulation and pleasures.
consent is key
 13° 
N
You see my brown skin
And assume I'm a thug.

You see my hijab
And assume I'm a terrorist.

You see the smile on my face
And assume I'm happy.

You hear my words
And assume I'm okay.

But I am not.

Instead I am broken.
Yet I am also strong.

I am dark and rule-following.
I am peaceful and Muslim.

You assume based on
Society's POV.

If you smile
You must be happy.

Fox, CNN, any media
Tells you I am a terrorist.
So the names I get called
And the extra security checks
Are extremely upsetting.

The murders of black folk
Is either considered appropriate
Or it's "black on black crime"
So it's not taken seriously.

Who are you gonna believe
Me or those who don't know me?
 12° 
donnie
every night i softly cry
eat an apple, hope to die
you've left me here, so red and flushed
im waiting for you, but i feel rushed
the bleeding heart slips from my grasp
i run to catch it in a dash
but only you can break its fall
and as it hits, I slowly crawl
to you.
adieu.
goodbye,
sweet lie.
 7° 
LNI
With loathe and resentment
I wish for contentment
But there ain't too much of a thrill
When my emptiness cannot be filled.

With pills and black heels
I'm paying my bills
But my emotional debt
as you bet, I tend to neglect.

Yes, I acknowledge
it has gotten to be a bit of a pleasure
feeling so much displeasure

But valium has mothered me so much
And now I am mesmerized by her soft touch

And people ask WHY
But don't they know that I swore to die?

I need sleep,
But Morpheus must be a Scorpius
As he is my star, my king
with his burning sting

I don't mind
If I've become blind
As I've already survived from that tainted spring
where Tiresias got his mortal drink

And maybe
I'll transform myself into a man for seven years
Penanced to kill sacred deers
But my breasts are blessed
to cut them off my chest

How could I eradicate myself?
death, deathmonger, soft, touch, pleasure, debt, heels, bills, mesmerized, addiction, valium, addicted, pills, why, die, Scorpius, Morpheus, king, star, sleep, deer, sacred, years, blessed, breast, transform, man, chest, cut off, penanced, kill eradicate, myself
 6° 
September Rose
Aghhhhhhhhhh
Why is everything so co.mpli.cated.
        Why is nothing how it should be

Nothing good lasts for ever
well it seems to me like nothing good lasts a fucking second

Everything is
Spiralling
Out
Of
Control
          
         Everything was good a week ago
    A month ago
    
Ok maybe not good but better

         Because this fucking life has
        given me the shittiest lemons
And although I'm used to dirty lemonade
it's like life still enjoys pelting me with the leftover ones
      
          Until
        I want
    To disappear
Go away
 4° 
AS
They witness what irradiates,
finding something else to blame.
To something that would create world of pain.
Never questioning why, what for? to the toxicity they spore.
Running to conclusion to ensure,
to avoid the flaws.
To which they derived,
by the symptoms they explored and the real cause they ignored.
Unable to place their hands up, to the mistakes they make and the way they only take.
Need to be commended for basic things they do.
When complexity starts, the leaning begins to spurting out sins.

Flabbergasting that they're so unaware what actions they bare, to those who anchored on your capsizing ship.
Unable to latch onto the disgusting phrases, as of course you can't do anything wrong.
The world has to sing you praises, wrap you up in its loving embrace.
But as soon as it makes the littlest of accidental mistakes, you irradiate a full blown earthquake.
Depicting oneself as victim, oh behold no one can react to the venom that you enact.

These people seeing pass your masks, know its too late for you change from your past.
Still you like to point the blame, making those who truly care feel shame and your skillful maneuvering of guilt.
For those who take a stand, holding a mirror to your face.
They burn and feel your wrath, spreading to their inside to fester over time.
A world of torment you unleash, but to your captives compassion and empathy they feel.
Seeing past the edges and the facade, knowing and sensing the ways you were scarred.

Those scars, destroying your life or anyone attained.
Inspiring others to run, now your beauty fades one by one company fades.
Others try to fight for the little light which was left inside, letting many years of their own lives pass by.
With you around, they flounder peace, opportunities and chance of a life they seek.
Not aware to the manipulative ensnare, how you've drained and tormented covertly with your natural flare.
They now know there is no hope, refusing you to continually keep taking their glow.

Finally taking flight, creating the most simulating, rewarding life.
Finding the person who truly lives inside, not the one who nurtured and codependently gave up her life.
Now the last loyal person can't standby, to the destruction that you blow and clean up the viscous shows.
She understands and knows your distance past, but knows its no excuse to be inflicting that level of abuse.
As life is to grow, to slowly flow away from the pain and strife.
Consideration and reflecting on the way you act, to protect those you love and not to react.
So on my way I go, goodbye and sympathy for the misfortunes you reproduce.

Obtuse and lonely you'll remain, sadly until your dying day.
As those who chose to stay, keep distanced from your terrain.
No longer letting you rain down shame, manipulation and guilt.
Only accepting to be hit by a light spray, these are the reasons no one will stay, living with you each day.
At this point in life there is little chance of change, but for your sake let this entitlement fade and your destructive mind frame.
It is too late, as your emotional state sees nothing or understands the inflictions you partake.

© 2018
Abigail Sheard
 4° 
Nylee
After taking my while
finally climbing this mountain,
I couldn't even take a peaceful breath
because I can feel the shadow
of much larger mountain
falling over me.
 4° 
AS
No I will not reframe!
Now unleashed,
the memory of the beast will breathe.
How he cut all us very deep,
stealing and pealing away boundaries.
Aren't I allow to heal from the disease the monster inflicted.
The seeder of insecurities,
The creator of the fight,
That with the most disgusting,
manipulative mind.
Calling him evil would be kind,
after all the devastation he left behind.
To the cure sickness he planted in the mind.
The moment has gone to keep quite,
to open up about the fright,
let the truth fly free.
A psychopath who loved to leech,
reaping those in his reach.
Not caring about the pain he left,
even with leaving one of them partially deaf.
Getting those around him into a routine delirium.
Smiles,
as he reeked the torment and confusion inside.
Leaving those around him half alive,
removing the opportunity to thrive.
Now your removed from this world,
it can now turn round,
carefully healing the ground.
Your mark has been left,
those who were detained will never be the same.
The feeling of your slime,
your claws and the blood you once drew.
Leaving few in stages of blue,
worst of all leaving behind smaller resembles of you.
One thing I can gladly say,
now as I stride forward and thankful you are now longer alive.


© 2018
Abigail Sheard
 4° 
AS
I can hear it within the voices,
unable to feel proud for those who try.
On the other side of the fence,
they celebrate and dance in glee.
The reason I originally was afraid to try,
as the way you twist to those who take risks.
Not passing at the top,
a failure you rather of not known.
All I hear is the shameful,
fake tone.
Maybe if you gave me your belief,
stopped covertly belittling in the way you speak.
Maybe I wouldn't be afraid to fail,
trying,
learning and growing to the best I can be.
But within your actions,
you create disbelief and anxiety.
Not emitting the support I seek or that this is just another stepping stone to achieve.
The other side of the tree truly believes,
brought to tears by how I've surpassed my troublesome past.
Their voices filled with triumphant pride and joy,
of the way I fought and tried.
Not allowing me to slip by,
seeing the opportunity and the drive inside.
These people make me happy to be alive.
Judgemental side please abandon me or at least fully dettach.
For you have poisoned my roots too long,
which has brought me to twenty seven to find where I belong.
Burnt my leaves in your disgusting pursuits.
Dented my bark,
covering my childhood in upheaval and traumatic marks.
Making me wilt for years,
with the guilt and the monster you let consume the water supply.
Even though my trunk is chipped, with
distance I've found the sun nutritional to my insides.
Growing strong each day,
without the fear of strain or being drained.
Finally I am taking bloom,
no longer buried by the family filled of doom.


© 2018
Abigail Sheard
 4° 
Lynnie Defelice
Copycat, we're enemies, meant for nothing more than battles. Copycat; you are me, but you're freed while I'm in shackles. You hide in the face of day, behind bars of my ribs. Yet confronted, you melt away, and you expect me to forgive? Crawling from these dusty corners, I wish to forget you. But you won't die, and I just can't let you. Maybe it's carved into your being, to bring my trauma as a person. Are you intended to be invented? Is this even worth it?
Copycat is like another me in poems, the bad parts; the mental illness. My demon has a name. All feedback is welcome and appreciated

— The End —