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I want to be whole she screams as she stabs the knife into her heart taking out another chunk
 Oct 2014 Saphanuel Silas
pat
there is nothin better
than a dog in a sweater.
Scorching heat, sweat pours
Vicious winds, couldn't tame it
Sweat river. It's summer. Whoa!
My 100th poem
 Oct 2014 Saphanuel Silas
Alina
why is it not to speak
these words that we think
acceptable in poetry
but heaven forbid we feel them
because a couple rhymes
and the enter key
make everything alright apparently
sorry, no.
Poetry has to do so much with the deep issues in life, things that if we talked about them in our everyday conversations, we'd be put aside and judged for, but when it is art, it is considered okay. Why?
new
walk the path unused unseen
see the endless view and dream
see a world at peace
with me
view an entirely new you
and me.
 Oct 2014 Saphanuel Silas
Lahela
You know the feeling you get when you're holding your breath and you need to breathe, but you're still not at your destination where you can take a breath? You get that burning sensation in your lungs when you seem to be gasping with your mouth closed, even though I don't think that's possible.

Is there a word for that?
There should be.
 Oct 2014 Saphanuel Silas
kal
haiku
 Oct 2014 Saphanuel Silas
kal
inadequate and
imperfect in a flawed world
what is perfection?
I'll brood in quiet contemplation
Waves of indifference wash over me
I've been sitting on this cracking pavement
Bored to tears but still brimming with apathy.

I'm not choking on ambition
I'm not feeling a ******* thing
How many times a day do you look at yourself in the mirror?*

One
In the morning when I wake, I walk to the mirror and flash a smile that's fake
One you may mistake as that of genuine glee but really it is sad if you look closely

Two
In the bathroom when I wash my face, I stand ahead of the mirror and see someone unamazed
Two lives to live and two more to waste,
Skip this one, move on with haste

Three
In the sunlight when I'm out for a break, I hold out a mirror that reflects the sunshine's wake
Three strikes of sun rays to my eyes and two to burn my skin
I'd say one thing, even the light that brightens your day could sin

Four
In the afternoon when the wind is silent, I ask the mirror where my former self went
Four seasons and three good moments have passed, she's still not here
Two pm, in the mirror stands the one I fear

Five
In the later time of the day when the sun is setting, I speak to the mirror to the girl who's weeping
Five fingers she has but on the fourth sorrow she lost track
Three hours more to be spent by two dead eyes that refuse even one smile back

Six
In the blanket that is home, I wonder if my reflection were a poem
Six lines to write with five unexplained phrases
Four rhymes out of sight and three pity beer bottle cases
Two nights alone, I am one with the mirror without others' faces
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