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By the scars
That leave
The marks
On my fingertips
Alone.

But it marks
An ongoing fight
With the struggles
That only can I
Comprehend.

And once death
Stands in the darkness
By the bed, and I came
To realize that my death
Is something I live with.
Dani Jan 10
Creeping crawling
Waiting stalking...
You sit there in wait
As if a planned date

Of which, I do not know
Why are you staring little crow?
You sit and watch beating hearts
'Til the harvest starts

I almost tune out the evil laugh
That you bellow from deep within your wrath
And almost forget where you reside
That is, within me, deep inside

Your jar of souls collected slowly
You take your time being unholy
You go into hibernation away from the watchful cavists
You do not mind though, for winters calm brings great Spring harvests

You feast and feast devouring bit by bit
You take piece by piece encouraging me to submit
Fighting the pain,
Fighting in vein...

Tearing me down, nonstop
As if I your crop
Little crow caws in joyous evil song
Release me from your grasp, I beg all night long

You come and go
And reap what I sow
Taking my strength and will to fight
Chomping down into flesh throughout the night

Released once more, you hide away again
I almost forget, but you have written it in permanent pen
You wrote "Never forget, sweet child, I am you keeper.
Sincerely,
The Soul Reaper."
Cavist: A hawk which is of proper age and training to be carried on the hand; a hawk in its first year.
A symbol of strength and protection for me.
An autoimmune of a nation,
why are you letting your wrath
stemmed from crisis
burst open like lysosomes?
Why do you digest
yourself and one of your own?
Don't you take pride
when the one who has the same
nation weaved on his skin
uplifts the wavering flag of your land?

Why would you mute
and suppress them
rather than water them,
like the beautiful nature that
blooms from your own ground?
Why would you steal
and harm your brothers and sisters,
letting your mentality succumb
to toxic-narrow confinements?
Dani Oct 2018
A beautiful mountain, white with snow
A light breeze, a wind ice cold
Frozen in time, I stare in awe
Under ice is a heart so raw
Diamonds glistening, ice shimmering
An imbalance of time and minds dancing
Beauty and despair frozen in ice
Waiting for summer sun to pay the price
Still and quiet, but the pain screams in your head
Frozen in place beside your bed
Staring into the pains
A hundred rocks flow through your veins
A thousand needles biting skin
Outward calm, but screaming within
Summer warmth approaching
Ice slowly melting, diamonds gleaming
With perseverance you break the ice
It falls, shattering, what a sacrifice
I watch as there is nothing I can do
As your body shed the ice encasing you
It is beauty and despair, intertwined
Dripping to the floor, Oh how I adore
To watch you come alive. An uproar!
No longer frozen, full of motion
As if watching a glistening ocean
You stand tall, high above us all
For you melted the ice, made it fall
Leaving only a memory
Your fight so strong, dauntlessly
Standing, living, believing, and yet...
Your feet are wet, so with regret
I must inform of icy returns
Gone are the days of summer sunburns
For ice will come, it will be done
Your body shunned from our warm sun
You will freeze again, be lost again
Icy diamonds will shine like back then
You must remain strong while waiting,
Frozen in time that is crippling
Shed your ice everyday, overcome
One day Summer will stay and all this will be done
Auto-immune diseases has riddled my mother, and some days myself. Sometimes it feels as though you are frozen in ice waiting for the pain to end. I remember my mother being up at 4 am to allow body to "shed the ice" and get through the stiffness and pain that came every night.
Makenzie Marie Jul 2018
I am a passenger
In my own body.
Everything’s heavy
Memories spotty.

Working away
On a beautiful day
Until my heart begins to race

Adrenaline pumping
But still I’m exhausted.
Lay down on the floor
Feet up in the sky
Get blood to my brain
And continue on with my night.

An engulfing weight
Holding me tight
Pushing me farther
From consciousness’ light

I can hear you, yes.
All that comes out is a breath.
And then again,
I’m drifting away.
I can hear everything they say.

“Open your eyes”
They flutter, sight blocked
I can not
And again
My vision is spotty
A passenger in my body.
Sophie Katherine May 2018
Sick.
Cough.
Sneeze.
Groan.
Sick.
My sick is different.
My sick follows me like a dark cloud every second of every day.
My sick stalks me like a lion, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Sick.
My joints ache as I walk, but I keep walking.
My stomach burns as I eat, but I keep eating.
My insides scream as I smile, but I keep smiling.
Sick.
I keep the sick hidden under a smile.
I accept it as my best friend and worst enemy.
I have learned to be tough so I won’t become my sick.
Sick.
I wrote a poem about my chronic illness (Sjögren’s syndrome) a few days ago and it felt fitting to post it today because I’m getting an infusion today woohoo!!
You're right, it was a lie, a joke,
It's a hysterical sight when I forget, so I sigh,
It was a hoax...
I love to sleep 14 to 70 hours each day and how much I weigh, That's just a positive gain,
How'd you know I never had pain?
I purposely cancel plans at the end,
Who'd want to keep friends?
I just lie about it to seek attention,
being called a liar was my whole intention...
I am not sick or tired,
I just enjoy being called lazy, it's good for my self-esteem... when I do get out to look pale and wearing no makeup,
I no longer care about.
You can't see the illness on the outside, you can't see my body attacking itself, healthy brain cells killing oneself, so I made up the autoimmune disease by myself...
No need to look forward to remissions, good health doesn't need omission,  
No need to ask for prayer, for what's wrong with me(on my behalf), they'll find a cure, after all , my cells are pure, and you can't see the disease that I have.

Glad I made you laugh,
When God heals and take's it away,
Then you'll know I never had it anyway. -Jencie
I am sick now with an autoimmune disease. I don't even write much anymore. And to write over the web like this is a lot less often. Thank you and God Bless You!!
Marcia Kaoru May 2017
It was, surprising to say the least.
You would throw me to the side for that beast.
I had been respectful and pure.
She called you **** on your timeline.
I needed to be sure.

She stated, "told you, love you" about your test.
I spent a lot of time discussing that test with you, so you could do your best.
She said, "Told you, Love you!" on your post.
I think she's the one you love the most.

After all, you screamed at me for simply begging the question, "are you an item?"
You blocked me.
You yelled at me.
All over her.

I've been nothing but nice to you.
I wish you could say the same.
If you put up with me, what good is that.
If you love me, tell, me. Show me, even better.
God, you can't even send me a letter.

At first, I thought I would only lose one.
I was devastated.
How could I go on!
All alone with a dying child.
My heart so tender, so faint, so mild.

Then, it happened, so plain to see.
Another child will be leaving me.
The disease struck both.
The genetics clear.
Now I live my days worried in fear.
For there is another child, youngest who has shown little signs.
All I can do now is pray and wait on the time.

I am not immune to the pain.
I am not immune to the sorrow.
Warm tears flow down my old cheeks.
How could I watch them suffer!

I can hold them, as they cry.
Who will comfort me after?
Where is my love?

I'm so alone and they'll be gone.
For naught was my escape with them?
For naught was my raising these little ones in love?
How God, how should I suffer so?
Alone. Again. It's a place, I know.
Chris
Lux Capacitor Mar 2015
Half in dark, hiding out,
back against a wall,
any one, will do for me,
all I seek in dreams.
Here before, here again,
remnants strewn about,
between the door and me,
shine under the moon.
I'm to blame, prophecies
rolling in with rain,
hold me tightly in sleep
Loneliness, a poem that,
written by my own hand,
paints bridges with glitter mixed
up with broken glass.

— The End —