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do you ever feel like
your friends never cared about you?
like your entire existence never affected them?
hell they probs would've done better without you...
you've annoyed them ever since you met them
and now here you are
still bothering them...
you're probably the cause of their problems
or making their problems worse for them
and you know it
you hurt them so many times
and only came back to you
because you were weak
and couldn't go on without them in your life
you want them all for yourself
because you don't know how to speak
to other people and make friends...
how much longer
til you've broken beyond repair?
a year, a month, or just a few hours?
when will you finally be consumed with despair?
or have you already died inside
and are too scared you'll mess up
and have to explain to everyone that you don't have the will to live...
lelel tired
friendos probs hate me
like deep down they do
I'm so annoying cuz all I do is complain about how I wanna die
lol
#eh
As I strolled through the park
A very small boy was having a lark

A very small boy on a very small bike
Flying past nearly in the ****

As I came back from the store
He was going faster more and more

He flew past me like a bat out of hell
I jumped off the path and nearly fell

As he disappeared from sight
I wondered would he be all right
I heard a man putting ladders up outside
Probably to clean the gutters
He suddenly appeared at my window
"Hello" he said
"I'm Father Christmas
I'm just practising"
A True Story ...... This actually happened one day at my window.  I thought it was funny.
Been  down  with  a  nasty
chest  Infection.
Finished  my  Amoxicillin
caps  last  night.
Hope  to  feel  better  soon.
Take  care.  Everyone.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK. 2016.
 Nov 2016 Suzy Hazelwood
B
Home
 Nov 2016 Suzy Hazelwood
B
When did your home stop feeling like a home? Was it when the clocks stopped ticking? Or when the lights started flickering and you were too tired to change the bulbs? Was it when the flowers leading up the drive way wilted? Or when the windows became too hard to open because they were stuck? Did you realize it when the shower was always a touch too cold and your sink wouldn't drain completely? Was it when your favorite foods didn't taste the same way and your fridge was always empty? Was it when the candles you've always burned didn't have a wick to light anymore? Maybe home was never really home. A home doesn't take more than it gives. A home is what protects you, not makes you feel vulnerable. A home keeps you warm, not allows you to shiver until your muscles ache. A home is what keeps the light inside your eyes lit and keeps the flame in your heart burning. A home would never blow that flame out. Maybe your home wasn't your real home. You were just renting it until you could settle into your permanent one.
Fog
I see the sun in the trees
Fog riding the breeze
Drifting through the woods like a ghost
She never makes a noise
Always elegant with poise
But the sea she loves the most
The azure sparkling water
She caresses like a daughter
As she wanders on down the coast
Once she has her fill
Floats back up the hill
An ivory angelic host
I watched the fog this morning...
Lay this poet down
When the time arrives
In a field of fresh cut words
On a bed of softened rhyme

Feel free to cover me
From my head down to my feet
In a poetic form to keep me warm
Perhaps a blanket of allegory

Place a silken sonnet pillow
Underneath my weary head
In a field of fresh cut words
On top a rhyming bed
Today I'm going to stop loving you.
You are hard to love, but loving you is not hard.
I love the scent of your skin as I lay next to you in bed,
And the way your laughter curls at the ends of your lips,
Then erupts across your face.
I love you even when you don't love yourself.
But my love for you makes me weak.
When your sharp words are filled with anger and wrapped in bitterness,
They pierce through my heart,
I clutch my chest as the air leaves my lungs.
The pain crashes over me in continuous waves,
And I'm trying to keep my head above the water,
But the tears from my eyes are flowing like open flood gates.
And I can no longer see where I'm going, so I collapse,
Into a puddle, still gasping for air.
Work in progress...
Enveloped tightly in a space
that once provided enough
but never promised a lifetime.
She twists and unfurls
beneath its surface,
ignorant of even her own colors,
her shape, her scent, her purpose.
And when she breaks open,
it is not without fear of wilting.
It is not without fateful wonder.
Still, she blooms,
catching the sun
just as the universe intended.
© Bitsy Sanders, November 2016
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