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Last night, I wandered in a dream;
I wandered through a house of rooms.
I looked for you; you were not there;
I looked and looked–looked everywhere.

Some people sat in a living room.
“He isn’t here; he’s dead, you see,”
they tried to tell me. But I went on,
“But I just saw him--it’s not been long!

From room to room, I opened doors,
but they were empty, every one.
Could it be their words were true?
In the hall I screamed–”WHERE ARE YOU?”

I woke up–you still aren’t here.
The grim truth, I’ve tried to keep at bay.
And my guardian angel–where is he?
I need him near me; did he flee?

Then I saw that someone said:
“There was someone we once knew, who’s dead.
Your angel would not believe ‘twas true.
We saw him screaming, “WHERE ARE YOU?””

Who are you? My angel?
Or just another tortured soul.
We share so many wounds within–
not my guardian; you’re my twin.
Grievous losses and strange coincidences
Jeremy Betts May 2022
I always forget to remember lessons from the last failure, therefore I'm forever havin' to start all over, my own personal torcher chamber
It creates this culture of fear that I can't get over, the chip on my shoulder staked on the bolder that's already there
A taunting whisper on loop saying it'll never get better, cursed with bad days, one after another
Try to fudge the numbers, facts don't lie but memories blur, every passing day recollection gets harder
I had this thought in the shower, your heart beat is just a countdown to your last breath and death is just a new beginning to forever
Should I still follow my dreams if it's a recurring nightmare? Only the loser says the other didn't fight fare
Only the winner gets their name in the paper unless it's a smear campaign so staying out of the conversation is safer
Where's the line between assassination and ******? And what's the difference between an unwanted guest and intruder?
Does a lamb know about the slaughter? Does the hand know it can take a life without being given an order?
Which is shorter I wonder, the path to greatness or to a personality disorder, my dark passengers a backseat driver
So it's all in how you frame the picture, have a nice day sounds less threatening than enjoy your next 24
Who decides what will occur? How much more can I endure? Roll the dice and hope they don't shatter
Matter of fact I pray for just enough to make it to the next day not knowing there's no listener
God ain't there and if he is he doesn't care or doesn't know the answer either
Either that or he to has given up on this fallen soldier all together, abandoned by my supposed creator
I don't make an hourly wage, I sell chunks of my life for pennies on the dollar
Some one, somewhere is listening to the last song they'll ever hear
Could be me, right now, right here, no way to tell till after then it's to late to alter
Masking anxiety with witty banter, no alter ego just another dark passenger, this time he's riding shotgun like one in the chamber
One personality is hard enough to keep front and center, take one down but there's always another, I am just fodder
The split is wether to move forward or quit all together, don't know which is better
Tried divide and conquer, another failure, tried to find a new harbour but couldn't pull the anchor

Got control of my anger just to immediately lose the battle, instantly falling outta the saddle
I thought I wasn't supposed to get more than I could handle, I guess that's just another cryptic riddle
Starting to feel old testament biblical, the punishment for mistakes are astronomical no matter how miniscule
Almost feels personal, maybe I'm part of some sadistic ritual, forced to be a part of it, no consent, held against my will
Little did I know I could walk away and be okay still, no one told me the rules making every move futile
Trying a different approach, going vocal, begging for mercy in vain but hopeful
An ineffectual campaign, the struggle was always inevitable, my thoughts not believable
Not even a credible witness to my own life, how is this even possible?
Well, cranial damage is plausible due to hitting every obstacle head on, brain almost falling out of my skull
Life is the train light at the end of the tunnel while I'm mid tunnel on a stationary bicycle
Rock bottom was the pinnacle of my life, cynical doesn't even begin to describe what drives my mental
Keep it all in to avoid the hospital, trapped lightning in a bottle but couldn't get a grip on its broke handle
Already sold my soul, not to the devil but to the people and the return on my investment was far from equal
The colossal difference was they got the best of me and I was left an empty shell
Tried to fill it but it now looks like a landfill, a trash receptacle, the overflow of garbage unavoidable
Completely full of hurt and pain, I pray there's no sequel but I just saw the preview commercial so I guess it's ******* official
But even before dress rehearsal I took myself out of the circle knowing it wouldn't be merciful, devouring me whole
Besides, the demon inside stole the show and convinced me I was evil and deserve to not go any further than my current window
I accepted it cause it's all I know, brittle and fragile, will I made it to another day? Doubtful, the outcome predictable
If written out the how come would be longer than the bible so just take my word for it so you're not liable
Life itself is my rival, and now spiteful has replaced delightful and forced the downward spiral
The life or death questions I scream at the sky come nightfall are being treated as rhetorical
And there's no capable Oracle these days so I'm on my own to wrestle this powerful, never ending dose of trouble
Stepped out of my comfortable bubble once before and it was brutal
Promised myself never again but it's not that simple, every attempt pitiful

Wish me luck

©2022
Mark Wanless Aug 2023
i bow at the alter in
the church of imperfection
and pray softly here again
in storm of life confusion
Farsolatido Jul 2021
There's a day that I saw you right in front of me,
Smile, laughing and crying.
However, it is just only a glimpse of my memories with you during our times together.

There's the day that I had heard your voice echoes in the house, car and the place we used to hang out together.
However, it is just only my feeling that still missing you.

There were times, I wonder how are you doing ?
Are you happy ?
Do you live well?
Do you still remember me? Missed me ?
Even though we not talking to each other anymore, I'm still missing you ***
Descovia Jul 2021
The day I was informed, I was suppose to have an identical counter part.


"I am neither Matthew or Matt. That is a title belonging to a part of myself, consumed by the darkness.


A life of nothing, is there anyway to depart from this?

My own hatred brought me to suffocate on the light in my lungs.

The monsters inside, reminds me through vices to be strong.

Alcoholic nights. Mornings with Maryjane to ease the pain.


The weight of sadness and the madness hits me like a freight train.


The anger is the heaviest anchor, bringing my soul into the depths of torment to never breathe in freedom again.

Where did it all go?

What is left to show?

For I do not simply know.

My shadows been keeping company. In the darkness, I feel so lively.

During a full moon, transformation into my dark twin, activates sleeping forces dwelling inside of me.

There is no escape....
Eli Feb 2021
A phoenix, A second chance
An angel, A devil,
A rescue, A ******,
Everything comes with a price,
And this ***** is an expensive *******
something old
Isaac afunadhula Feb 2021
Along these edges
heading for the alter
and make the grade
despite the write off
future.
around the bends of my mind
lies some memories
of uninhibited realism
of high fidelity
to myself
in letting myself go
somewhat joyous
somewhat chaotic
somewhat musical
but just there
to feel and see things
for more than what they mean
through my own eyes
seems rather unusual
but I go back in time
take a deep-dive
to recapture these ephemeral bubbles
of blissful euphoria
as if singing
to my alter ego
'We can be heroes,
just for one day
We can be us,
just for one day!'
Heroes by David Bowie seems to be the perfect song to relive those high-on-life moments.
Marie Nov 2020
Deine Worte erzählen von
heimatlosen Eisenbahnschienen
und vom wohlhabenden Fleisch,
das goldbehangen über seinen Rand hinauswächst


Von flügellahmen Fenstern,
von blattlosen Türen
und dem blumigen Duft eines Lebens,
dessen Atome längst im Staub der Zeit verloren gingen
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