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Rachel Apr 2018
Is a life free of pain; no hunger for hope,
all that it enticingly seems?
Or is there more found in victory over a noose & a rope,
That could never be by achieving the highest of dreams?
Zeno Wislocki Apr 2018
A never ending battle
Between two foes
Both undefeatable
Both bigger than any other
Both capable of immense damage
Over the mind I call my own

Two foes
Fighting for the right
To destroy me
An endless tug-of-war game
The prize being the end of me

One takes the title of anxiety
But is known in many different forms
Vowing to cut me off from the world
By filling me with fear and worry
Hoping only to drive me to insanity

The other titled depression
Priding itself on killing my hopes
Vowing to cut me off from myself
By making me feel worthless
Hoping to drive me to self-hate

Crying, begging with both
To just make some compromise
A deal with two devils
In hopes of lessening their pain
Neither will have mercy
Neither will make a truce
Neither will defeat each other
Nor will they be defeated by any other

Little do they know
By clawing, scratching
At each other to get in my head
They destroy me in the process
Symbiotically they unnerve me
Together they annihilate me
They simply don’t realize
How well they work together
How well they bring me to an end
Danielle Apr 2018
It was a merry-go-round.
I was gambling on the animals.
There was something more,
Going on between us.
A faint flutter of discontent
As I laughed astride a Tiger,
Ready to battle.
I’m not making any demands.
Complete surrender is all I’ll take.
Sometimes there a little moments were you think back on them and go oh, that was what that strange undercurrent was. I had one of those and needed to write it out.
Isabella Terry Apr 2018
Is this blood mine or yours?
I want to go home.
I don't know you, and I don't want us to die.
We both lay here, barely alive.

You look scared, a deer glowing faintly in the headlights of a rusty green vehicle.
I can see the tempest of my own fear reflected in your chocolate eyes.
Must we be enemies, only because our homelands are?

I see you finger something under your shirt.
It's probably a snapshot- mine is.
You keep it there to remind you of your promise:
Your oath to lay eyes on them again.

I know that we fight for our countries.
For what we believe to be right.
But...
Do you suppose...that only for tonight
--presumably the last night of our lives--
We could ignore the politics, and just fall asleep together?

In the morning, if either of us wakes up,
We can once again plummet into the ocean of duty and justice and pain.
We can drown in it then.
For now, could we take a swift breath at the top of the waves?
That would be nice.

Neither of us has said a word, but no matter.
Language barrier has not kept you from agreeing with me.
A simple series of countenances has signed our temporary truce in our place.
A mutual gaze of farewell,
As I drift...

Into...

Sleep...
Anggita Apr 2018
Love is deceiving: that it can put you into a chaotic hurricane of misfortune yet you will keep being so blindly lucky.

Love is manipulating: that sometimes it becomes an ultimate tool for a person to politically dominates you. It mops your own self-authority.

You'll eventually become controlled. You'll be owned, you'll be toyed, that the presence of yourself means nothing more than just a belonging brought along.

Love is voracious: that it always makes you so greedy for affection, and craving more than just attention.

As the things don't go straight forward with your wish, and you don't get what you hardly need, you'll be left suffocated. You'll gamble your very lack of happiness only to be evaporated.

Love is lonesome: that every night, it will let you so sleepless, envisioning to a constant uncertainty which frustrates you to the utmost.

There will always be a constant battle in your mind that will dig the hollow so deep beyond the control. You'll soon use to the clattering cries and more simultaneous tears evoked.

But the good thing, it will sharp your melancholic soul elegantly: so exquisite that you'll paint your feelings in a train full of letters.

You'll possess the ability to bewitch gibberish into an excruciating enchantment for the woeful lovers. Those are the one whose joy are scattered to a blow of ashes.

- April, 24 2018, 02:23 AM.
love is suicidal after all.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
What will you do when your heart stops beating?
When you push sore limbs until they break?
I  am so worried it's making me crazy
Watching you battle everyday ache.

I am unable to pull even half my weight
I've not been the woman you need me to try and be
Each time I touch your weary shoulders
I feel the rain naked eye cannot see.
No one knows how hard it gets sometimes.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
Who am I to have tears in my eyes?
This isn't my heartbreak yet I feel sorrow rise,
This is not my battle, still suffer I do,
In hopes I can somehow steal your pain from you
Another oldie
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
Ignore my tired gait and red rims
The hint of discolor on my pale skin
The mirror exposes naked sin
The pain behind my forced grin
This battle I will never win
The unending struggle to be thin
I used to hate my body and went through a phase where i would throw up after eating and I was using unhealthy methods to try and lose weight. Now I am a trim 103 and i miss having ***** and a ****. I wish i could slap 135 lb me in the face because although i had some chub i would much rather go back to that then be skin and bones like i am now, although only being 5'2 i look alright.
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