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Jessica Leigh May 2020
There is an imprint of a frog on my back
From a poem by Mary Oliver.
It is sticky sweat oozing down my spine,
Leaking into the small of my back
Screaming, "You do not have to be good."
My own skin whispers back,
"But don't I?" and sears the grime.
I don't know what to do with my own badness.
Punishment for my "sins" seems necessary,
But so does radical acceptance.
All I can do is close my eyes,
Hoping for a better tomorrow where
My brain requires less dopamine
And more compassion.
Slowly I will rise from the grave I dig once a night.
I will claw my way out by my fingers
And into the light.
Shame that no one will be near
To see the resurrection.
The winds of ******
The waves of death
High--tide flow and blow evil.
The evil and bad people in our societies,that always plan bad against the good ones.
Wolfatheart Jun 2019
My heart has been broken for too long now.
It seems like an eternity of all now.
Nothing's the same and everythings gone.
But as much as I want this to end somethings wrong.

The brokenness just doesn't feel like normal heartbreak.
Though I know I can never make up for your mistake.

So I'm just stuck
For ever
Wondering how.
It makes my
Feel so
nim Jun 2017
I confuse people
And I filter things
I breathe in
The silver dust of clouds
And breathe out
Golden rays of sun

I take in myself
The bad words and
And out of my mouth
I spill the poems
Of the Earth
And the songs of peace

Nobody understands
How I work
How I filter
Into a daydream

Years pass, and
Filters get *****
Nobody understands
I keep everything
In myself

Nothing lasts forever
More time had passed
Before I
Was ready to be thrown

I took my
Final breath
Held it in
And as I was looking in the sky
I breathed out
And watched all the
Black, negative energy
Pollute the
Dying sky

— The End —