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Amer Pelides May 2020
Words were thrown into a turning wheel,
Twisting and turning their meaning,
Humble and thoughtful they were not,
They were intended to hurt and dismay,
I felt their sting and cold touch,
Why was I the target of such accusations?
Am I the carrion and they the scavenger?
I did not deserve this,
Or maybe I did.
When they chastise you for something you're not
eventually your protective walls will rot.
You begin to become the very thing you both feared,
a monster until the final shot.
Everyone says I have trauma,
But they don’t know a thing.
I always thought I didn’t do things by halves,
But I only do the last end of suffering.

There is no trauma there,
Should I hate to disappoint you?
(I don’t.)
Everyone thinks I have trauma.

And when I feel strong,
Is it ever good enough,
Or too much, too healthy?
Must I be faking,
Or am I just dissociating?
Everyone believes I have trauma.

There is no trauma back there.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2018
Suspicion runs rampant
No trust can be found
Even when lies are recanted
To their nature we’re bound
Releasing the hounds
Silencing sounds
Of victims drowned

Suspicion exacerbation
From false accusations
Causing ****** lacerations
Through spatial relations
Like shared incarceration
Or the local fascination
With public *******
Or child molestation

There are horrible people out there
They lack moral fiber
They do the wrong thing consistently
So in order to feel dignity
They develop extreme compartments of honor
And search so hard for instances to use it
It often comes out at inappropriate moments
And is used as an opportunity to signal masculinity
Imagine the person constantly yelling
“No one talks **** about my family/religion/country”
Then flies off the handle at the slightest perceived insult
This person may care about what they’re defending
But their defense is about themselves
And how badass and imposing they are

Conclusion jumping
Hatred pumping
******* lumping
The convicted with the accused
So with that flawed logic used
They decide to mercilessly bruise
Somebody a liar happened to choose

Why do people not always believe victims of crime?
The existence of liars
Who taint society with their dishonesty
Yet will never have to face their own impact
By apologizing to a survivor no one believes
For it is their kind
Manipulating minds
Turning men blind
Until trust is resigned

The liars mix with buyers
Lighting the world on fire
Creating an awful empire
Where the innocent are *****
And the innocent are slaughtered
I don’t know much more I can take
When no one seems bothered

I don’t have any answers
If we make penalties harsher on liars
We could discourage actual victims
But the injustice victims of false accusations deal with
Fills my heart with immense anger and frustration
People have no faith in our flawed justice system
So they look inside their own incapable minds
Deeming themselves the arbiters of justice
Too stupid to understand their lack of moral authority
That savage nature is reflected in the punishment they inflict
Innocent people die in a dark and lonely cell
While the rest of us must live in this deceitful hell
Where our minds are infected by hatred’s smell
We must pull love up from the spiritual well
To shield us from the ceaseless church bells

Those who lie
Mix with grime
Taking time
Deciding who dies
Innocent cries
Muted by guys
Smart as flies
That hatefully wait
For someone to mutilate
So they can prove they’re great
We must grow before it’s too late
And begin living in an empathetic state
Brandon Brazel Sep 2018
Why do I let you mess with my head?
I’m always laying here clueless in bed.
Trying to think of things I can shred like Zed,
But we know it’s fiction,
That Pulp said he’s dead.
Maybe I should chill,
Pop another med,
But now I’m letting something else put me back in my head.
I’m stranded, lonely, I only know to put paper to lead.
To sum it up,
You ****** me,
Nuff said.
I have nothing to Else to say.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
Yes you are right baby,
Your allegations are true,
I had done that previously too.

But was it something that I hid,
Had I not told you earlier,
Have I not been true?

Tele-tration was with you as well.
My HP Poem #1128
©Atul Kaushal
TERRY REEVES Mar 2016
THOU SHALT NOT BE MISERABLE - MAN-UP,
YOU HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH DEPRESSION,
HERE BEGINS THE LESSON - WHAT IS YOUR REASON?
WRITE DOWN YOUR GOOD THINGS - WHAT A SMILE BRINGS.

RESPECT YOURSELF, YOUR PARENTS AND FAMILY FOR ME,
DO NOT MAKE ACCUSATIONS, RATHER DECISIONS,
DO NOT DESIRE THAT WHICH YOU CAN NOT HAVE,
DO NOT COMMIT ****** AND THEFT - USE WHAT'S LEFT.

DO NOT DESIRE ANOTHER PERSONS DONKEYS, SLAVES,
CATTLE OR THEIR PARTNER - THREE OUT OF FOUR SHOUD BE OK,
I FORGOT THE HOUSE - YOU HAVE ONE OF YOUR OWN,
WHEN IT COMES TO ADULTERY - I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

TODAY IS SPRING, I WANT TO HEAR WHAT MAKES YOU SING,
MAKE ME LAUGH, IF YOU SUCCEED - THE WINE I SHALL BRING.
Tess Calogaras Feb 2016
The head is an annoying place to be stuck upon.
Once known for knowledge;
its reputation no longer stands.
Left with sole stupidity
and wider jumps.
"What a fool"
she thought,
swinging off the edge.
Copyright 2016
Tessa Calogaras
You ask a question as if you already believe I am guilty.
I would never take something that doesn't belong to me,  and if I did,  I would ASK FIRST.
I especially do not take poetry.
I don't copy anyone else's work or imagination.
We are all family; each of us have a marvelous ability to delve beneath layers of ourselves by writing each section on paper.
Why would I borrow your layers when I have my own?  
Inspiration is not something a thief can steal
There is the ability to grasp what is around you and feel emotions intensely, or you have a mind that moves with waves of thought and logical calculations.
Borrowing someone's poetry and pretending it is yours reminds me of borrowing jewelry from friends.
You make think it makes you look good,  but trust me,  people can tell that it doesn't belong to you
Someone close to me is accusing me of stealing their poetry from high school.

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