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 Oct 2015 Simon Obirek
glassea
the worst fate is not
fighting the monster
or killing the monster
or being the monster.
no, the worst fate is
loving him.
You can say something awful,
feel it yourself,
apologize over and over,
being ******* yourself,
it all comes around,
the fight is done,
you try to talk it out with a separate friend,
rumors and lies,
no bonding or ties,
you try your best,
to show the person that their the greatest,
they ignore you,
are absolutely awful to you,
they crush your heart,
put others in the middle,
how to show them,
that they can trust you,
they say 1-10 how much do I hate you?
100, they can't stretch it enough,
what can you do?
you've done all you can
talk it over,
feeling like your trapped in a tin can,
do you have heart,
can you try,
its their choice now,
please darling,
don't cry.
How can I earn someones trust back?
I cant stretch it enough, please help
I was rude, but not crude,
So please lend a helping hand.
^^^



escape                                          *

                       the boogie - man is everywhere

••

//                //

( we are so demented
& perverse ... !

we write poems to ex-lovers

Telling them we hate them ! )

SICK !

••


••

It's a long walk sort of a day down here

)(

Where to go ?

Who to see ?

HOW TO SAVE THE  WORLD !

••


looking for You

##                                           ##
we are ALL ex- lovers
aren't we ?
##                                           ##

To save the world means simply

TO LOVE AGAIN

•    •

( &

HERE

we are ! )

¥•¥
I feel like a very small person,
crying out,
help me, help me
can you see me at all?
I bang on the windows,
can you here me,
try to get help,
I don't care at all,
I feel like im being squished,
guts and blood and all,
trying and tying nots,
so I can climb my way back up,
they just untangle,
and the thread is destroyed,
my heart is crushed,
I cant even reach a dagger,
a needle or thread,
mother and father are there for me,
but all they can do is sit and watch me cry,
time passes by,
I am lost completely in thought,
God can't even see me,
oh if I was aloud a single wish,
I would scream,
Help me, help me please.
 Oct 2015 Simon Obirek
envydean
There’s blood on his hands
Not that anyone can see
It’s the blood of the innocent
More blood than he could foresee

It’s been years and years
Of fighting and killing
Evil monsters and demons
To **** them, he’s more willing

His hands hold the weapons
With a strong and firm grip
He can slice off a head
Into evil he’ll empty a clip

His hands are calloused
From digging grave after grave
He’ll shake others’ hands
They’re soft, it’s what he craves
Written for @literallyjensen on Tumblr :) The prompt was Dean Winchester and his hands :)
As the seasons changed
so did we
Was wishing for a "You, & Me"
Now we're losing chemistry

The leaves have transformed
into their fall season form
Falling fall leaves
are the feelings I had for thee
When you cannot afford to look back to where you started
Yet you cannot contemplate forgetting that they once cared
When the ache hurts worse than the day you parted
And you lost the warmth and complements you once shared

When the melancholy in your bones is fracturing
Whatever little piece of hope you tended in your marrow
When the best memories you are re-capturing
Digs into your flesh and stings harder than a poisoned arrow

When you realize you are more shattered than you thought
With septic wounds which glare like they won't heal
Because you never looked for cure when you should have sought
And you realize that  your virtues is what they did steal

When you want to believe you can happen again
Because you need to string that bow to share your pain
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