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Solar eclipse.
Your mind rips.
Rips into countless shards.
Reality is a house of cards.
Society breaks.
There's no escape.
No escape from your fate.
Cattatonicat Feb 13
Yea get down Get down with me

I'm not cold I'm oversaturated I'm catatonic

Reality is magic Agatha Christie is Aristotle

I came here with an attitude platitude altitude

I feel nothing I feel everything
Jesus Christ child of God show me mercy

Think I need a doctor I'm on overdrive
Keep me pumping boredom is my nemesis

Watch out for a tornado
Horsemen of apocalypse they've been here
Feeling nada, feeling all too much
Äŧül Feb 8
You can experience it
Coming from most of
The writers around the
Block of Writers Block
Only to be saved by the
Bunch of Writers from
The Writers' Block.

They can call you names,
Ranging from A ******
To A Grammar ****.
But don't be put off,
Don't be put out,
Just hold on.
Hold your ground.

You might have OCD,
The Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,
Don't worry - just channel it well.
Channel it well and play your tunes,
Don't worry about the runes,
They will be all covered with ink.
Yes, the electronic ink.

For all eternity, they say,
You can never achieve perfection,
And it should not concern you.
Just remember your wordlust,
Coin new and better words,
Just play your sweet lute.
Yes, you are so cute.

"What's so cataclysmic about the apostrophe?"
You asked me,
And legitimately so.
It's the difference 'tween us,
Perfection and poets,
Godliness and humaneness.
Divinity and profanity.

"Yes, perfection is sacrilege,"
I say, "Perfection is an ambition,"
"Of humanity and nature."
I take a deep breath before saying,
"In the knowledge available,"
"It's just a figment."
You ask me, "Where is it located?"

I say:
Find it 'fore some letters,
You can find it afta' some letters,
Lockin'n'poppin words together,
The apostrophe is so savoury & flexible
I just hope that I never become,
A Grammar Apostate -
I'll rather be ill instead.
My HP Poem #1732
©Atul Kaushal
Pandora Feb 4
I've decided to keep a sort of journal....
Telling you all about what happens in my life as a Middle-Schooler.
I call it...The Apocalypse
Follow me to stay up-to-date on when i post these.
Can you help me survive...The Apocalypse?
Day 2
Monday, February 4
We have school again!!!
Normally i wouldn't be happy about this...
but i finally get to see my friends after a week
Today i am practicing for the musical.
Today should be a good day, nonetheless
please...send help
(and someone to do my homework)

Pandora Feb 3
I've decided to keep a sort of journal....
Telling you all about what happens in my life as a Middle-Schooler.
I call it...The Apocalypse
Follow me to stay up-to-date on when i post these.
Can you help me survive...The Apocalypse?
Day 1
It's Sunday, tomorrow we go back to school...hopefully.
We've had multiple days off due to weather.
Im beginning to wonder if we will ever go back.
Please...send help.
(And send someone to do my homework)

I am not a hero nor your savior.
Eclipsed eyes, I want to live. But only to die.
I am a lost cause, a unique disaster.
I don't plan to make it out alive.
Be the destroyer
     To the mirrors in my mind?

   Since you left,
I'm just shadows dancing on mesh,
Without your grip,
                       My World Bends.

When all our years draw their last breath —
Meet me where everything ends?

By: Ashton Conor Amstutz
Tea Bland Jan 21
Dance with me at the end of the world,
taste the salt and copper on your tongue as the air turns to fire.
Throw your caution to the wind; this is the last time you’ll feel its breeze.

With light feet skip over the cracks in the pavement,
hurry before they swallow you whole as everything is ending.
The sky is filled with destruction today, so laugh with me.

We can dance because we know the end is here,
this is something you can’t escape, time to accept that there’s nowhere to run.
Laugh at the people with roots so deep that the foliage that has grown chokes them, blinds them, binds them to one place for the rest of forever.

When your voice cuts out from the smoke in the sky, don’t cry.
It’s okay to be scared, but there’s nowhere to hide so don’t even try,
we’re all lost souls no matter where we stand.

What a shame it’s over so soon, but Mother Earth is calling her children home,
and it’s a call we must obey, even if the way back to her is filled with blood and pain.

Feel the salt on your skin, ocean water running warm over your feet.
The water is dark, but in the fading light, it’s easy to see the way it runs red.
Dance with me, take my hand, hold your breath and say goodbye.
Emily Jan 19
With sorrow on my brow
And simpering, whimpering lips
I have a question in my weak voice
Breathing so brittle, like bird bones
I am the mockingbird with a broken wing
Crying out; dying to sing

In highlands abandoned
Where the missing people do not visit
Wasted places decorated jagged glass
Grey and brown plains without end
There was once a paradise in this world
However, time changes all but this girl

Looking back to this realm I hailed from
Eyes glazing over with nostalgia
My heart breaks regarding the bitter fondness
I just want to go back to my verdant haven
Because I remember the olden days
And all halcyon, lackadaisical haze

In the glittering past
So mysterious and unreal
The choices which have led to the present
And, consequently, the bitter and quivering
Question in my fragile voice
Where do the kindred spirits live?

Because I used to know
But they’ve moved on
These precious, flickering lights
For whom I call and call for
For whom I yearn for the return of
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