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 Mar 2018 someone
Alec Astaire
Another candle on the cake
Another wasted year where nothing has changed
Ya know, when I was younger I thought by this point
I’d have my whole life arranged

“How’s the birthday boy” they ask
They’re not too wrong, you see
If I’m 22 two years old
Then how come I’m only half the man I used to be?

You asked me how I am?
Well, what am I supposed to say?
“Can you supply me with a basic, depthless response?”
I think that’s what you meant to say

Because if I told you how today makes me feel
You’d wonder why I’d have the gaul to ruin Your day
You’re here to celebrate
Whereas I’m here to entertain you until you go away

But Grandma, if you really want in
On today’s daily dose of looming existential dread
Let me blow out the candles first,
And then I’ll let you inside my head

They say when you blow out the candles you’re supposed to make a
wish
And every year- for as long as I can remember
I’ve had but one wish
That always goes unanswered

I wish that someone could love me
And fix me
Put on a suit of armor to help me fight my
Depression and anxiety

I wish for a companion
Who would never rest until I loved myself as much as they love me
Someone who’d never give up on me
For absolutely no reason or rhyme

I’m so sick and tired
Of being so eager for these wishes
Knowing that there’s no magic
But yet, hopelessly begging there’s power in this tradition

But this year, Mary
I didn’t wish for any of that
Because I’m tired of hoping and wishing.
I just wish for it all to be over
Poem could be better, but it’s really all I wanted to say
 Mar 2018 someone
Lyda M Sourne
It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break
Insomniac nights are the worst. And it's been going on like this for quite awhile.
 Mar 2018 someone
Tiana Marie
She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
 Jul 2017 someone
aurora
coffee
 Jul 2017 someone
aurora
a sip of yesterday morning's coffee reminds me of you
cold and bitter and "what else would you expect"; you'd say
i keep drinking, knowing i could and should drink something better
but i don't, i can't, and i won't
this is life how i choose to make it;
an endless cycle of coffee I'll never drink when I'm supposed to, but will always finish
 Jul 2017 someone
brxken
Depression
 Jul 2017 someone
brxken
Here is a gun.
Take it.
Point it right to my chest.
Shoot it on me.
Let me die.
As dying would be the only option for me to heal.

Can't stand this cruel world.


n.e
 Jun 2017 someone
Jon Shierling
And at last I understood why they all hated me.
All at once I knew in my very bones
that even as a child they would look
into my eyes and couldn't see a person looking back.
They could read nothing in me, could not own me,
and I could see right through into their souls.
All the lies they had built for themselves,
all the powers of their plastic civilization
meant nothing when they looked at me.
I am a jackal of the desert, born of horrors
and raised with the spirits of the dead for guides.
When they look me in the eyes
they know fear.
 Jun 2017 someone
Amour de Monet
I may be silent
but my heart will
deafen you

— The End —