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Sometimes the enemy is myself
In the fight for my will to live
An inner conflict that occurs
More often than I care to admit
Approaching myself with utmost care
As if I am a war torn child
Who is use to conflict yet still afraid
Like bulletproof glass that's fragile
My life has always seemed like jigsaw puzzle not quite complete a piece missing
never seem to be able to find the one last piece to complete my life
days as a kid always thought something to be missing but never knew what just an empty feeling
that would never go away even today at the age of 65 still there's something missing
but to what maybe I'll never get to
Missing, my life has always seemed to be quite sad like a jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing not being able to find It
Tyler Matthew Nov 2018
I just don't know how people do it.
Wake up and work for a living
just to pay hospital, insurance,
utility, student bills
like there's nothing to it,
and then go to bed
with no scary thoughts beating
like cold rain through their heads.
Every day is a struggle between
either myself and the world or
myself and time or
myself and myself,
and it takes every drop of will
that I have to not reach for
the bottle, the pipe, on the shelf.
I just don't know how people,
some people, most people, it seems,
can live any better than that.
Like the one percent sitting
on top of the world looking
down, hysterically laughing
at those who have to work,
who breaks their
backs and necks and minds
trying to make something last
longer than a few ******* days.
Sure, there's beauty in the world,
but you gotta pay to look at it.
And even then, you aren't allowed
to just grab it and take it,
put a sign on it and make it yours.
Someone's already claimed
all you hold dear.
You're just stuck borrowing.
just moments ago, i went online and tapped Google
   if some miraculous spell
   could be drawn out of thin air
cause (this house husband

   feels a bit embarrassed to divulge),
   but at present,
   the will to live aye cannot bear
cuz  after an ample lather of soap and shampoo,

ah pronounced heady effect became immediately clear
where times gone by
   (even as late as early January
   tooth how sand and eighteen),

   the strands clumped, glommed, and matted together
   as sieve ma noggin got sat upon by a deer
no matter after shaking head banging fashion
   (imagine rock stars of yore

   whipping their wild locks) from ear to e'er
butta noah such dizzy inducing antics
   resulted in absolutely no fluffiness,
   hence my worse fear

(irrational?) yes, an obsession i.e.
   thy hirsute outgrowth fixation dated back
   tummy boyhood when cranky gear
and defective cogs somehow impacted

   preoccupation concerning
   every singular follicle fostering hair
strand, but during prepubescence,
   this now grown man took a fancy
   to this, that, or the other lad,

   who sported a style envied yours truly,
   hie wished said thatch tubby upon mine
   ma lil oblate spheroid,
   and pleaded (weathered and in vane)

   with fate to make magically ap pear
this, tis minuscule wiggle room
   to muster support from rear
guard, hook offer me wiggle room

   asthma body electric goes on a manic tear
precious seconds ticking closer
   to the final count down where
this mwm might remain bed ridden
   for an entire year.
Miss Me Jan 2018
Fragile keep silent as we all can see
Truth there are no words to be spoken of
And the able speak loud and will strive to be
They continue on and still yearn to love

Then the silent reap not of one
More tear
Only to give in on their dark set hour
While the able cling to gray skies of fear
Upon which they shed another tearful shower

Then the silent no longer walk this land
Truth they have gone to a far away place
While the able see upon the fear and stand
With a heartfelt tear falling down their face

So it becomes that all shall understand
Fragile are gone and the strong forever stand
Barker Sep 2017
Imagine the unimaginable
Dream the unachievable
Think beyond the realm of this world

Obtain the unobtainable
Create the impossible
For there are no boundaries
Dr zik Jun 2017
I admit I am humble
O' my Lord!
Keep in mind my passion!
Keep in mind my waiting!
مانا کہ تیری دید کے قابل نہیں ہوں میں
تو میرا شوق دیکھ میرا انتظار دیکھ
Dr ZIK Poetry: An extraction from Dr Allama Muhammad Iqbal's poetry
Alice Mar 2017
your opinions are debatable
persona? not quite dateable
in fact, you're very hate-able
and that is why I am not able
to keep telling this sweet fable
and living within your labels
this relationship is not stable
lets return to the drawing table
and from the equation we should subtract

NeroameeAlucard Mar 2016
Dear Boomers
Our generation isn't entitled, or lazy
So take off those rose colored nostalgia glasses if you think I sound crazy
You dealt us this hand, not The WW2 babies or even before them
You dealt this to us and we're trying to do better, even though our hope seems slim

The fact is only profit concerned you, not the future children that would populate this earth
Now we have poison in the air, melting Ice caps, an economy that doesn't work for us, and knowing this physically hurts.
You could've spoken up and said "Wait, what will our children have to deal with? "
But you chose to get ahead by any means necessary.
And you call us entitled and spoiled because we don't think unbridled greed and crushing everyone in our path is hereditary.

So to the baby boom generation, you lit this fuse on the earth, and we're trying to put it out.
You can scoff, and say we're lazy, we should just go out and get construction jobs that aren't here, and you can try to break us down with doubt
But a storm of changes is coming, and I can guarantee you will be caught in the tide.
So laugh all you want, because into a better future is where I aim to ride
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