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III Jun 2018
If the world
Stood still,
Stuck at 3am,

I'd be content
So long as
You were awake with me.
DCgirl May 2018
A haiku is
Just a fancy way of
Giving zero *****
The scene was horrid,
It is during the midday or late night
I hope my memory serves right
Prisoners are on their cell, innocents everywhere
Just one guard at bay as I tend to the babies
I heard them, I heard them right
In the swine of criminals, only one deserves death
They say.. they'll **** her
I have no evidence but believe my address
Listen before it's too late
For these people are full of hate
But who am  I? Just a child attending to your babies
That is when they ransack the place
So I cover the nearest child I see, as we all drop from the highest ground
Such a horrible night
For the same night lives were taken by million
And my blood dripping at the back of my head.

**** I wet my bed.
Just a nightmare to share.
It feels so real.
"Children Out To Play"
(written 04/23/18)

Everyday becoming more hot,
Children out to play,
Running in & out a lot,
Letting the cool air escape away!

The taste of wild honeysuckles in their mouth,
Dandelions stuck in their hair,
Making wishes without a care,
Their brows evident of the sun's glare!

Giggles turn into cry's,
Play turns into childhood fights,
They've overdone it now,
Over indulgence play her hand;
using the rebirth of spring.

Hypnotized by the grassy green hills,
Covered with new blooms of daffodils,
Time to gather them inside to sit still,
The children will sleep good tonight.
~SacredInkedBlood
Reminds me of us kids when we all would gather at grandmas house. So excited to meet up and play. Getting over tired, getting scrapes and bruises only to end up in little childhood arguments. Of course being made to come in only to pout to go back out. I remember an adult or more yelling, Quit running in and out or We're not air conditioning the whole outside and etc. But we had more fun than we ever had bad as children. Always excited about gathering up together again at grandma's. And there was a lot of us. My grandma had 13 children and of course they had children too! #missing © a day ago   rhyme • spring • family • love • nature • adult
Abhra Paul Apr 2018
I will learn to love the skies I’m under,
I will fall for the beauty of the rain past all the lightning and thunder,
Don’t turn your heart cold,
Buy back the soul you had sold.

Walk with me on the roads less travelled,
Sway and swoon
To some heavenly tune,
Dream dreams that are not our own,
Observe constellations that we had never known,
Freeze ourselves in pictures and in photographs,
Get lost in between lines and paragraphs.

And then when the lights grow dim,
The bottle is no longer filled upto it’s brim,
Lie with me in the darkness,
Close your eyes,
Feel every breath,
Listen to the faint traces of Lionel Richie still playing on,
Listen to the hollow beating of our hearts,
Listen to the clock moving on,
And most of all, listen to the fading noises as sleep takes you over,
Tomorrow when you wake up and the world is just the same
And you look across the bed just to struggle to remember my name,
Do walk away leaving me in the depths of despair
And my soul vulnerable and bare
But you should know that
I will learn to love the skies I’m under,
Because you? You were my most beautiful blunder.
Dakota Mar 2018
Thinking about you is like watching the sun set over the most beautiful place on earth. Your colors painted across my sky and lit up my world with sensation. You amazed me like a hundred different colors that changed with the position of the sun. I’m just laying here staring at the moon and dying to know if you felt the same
raingirlpoet Mar 2018
her eyes are bloodshot and dried out
she hasn't blinked in hours
a screen flickers on and off
just as her mind floats in and out of consciousness

there's shadows on the ceilings
like ones she left behind in the city

she remembers a smile
and jolts upright in bed
there's a smile that haunts her

the sun rises in a couple hours
and she is still awake.

-rgp
NvturalMystic Mar 2018
A cigarette sat between the crevices of her coffee flavored lips while she expertly puffed a few smokes.
Her mind tasted like dying roses, sweet thorns and honey.
She was a 3 am disguised in moon dust and I never knew how to differentiate her from day and night.
An old scribble I had made years ago.
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