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Just like burnt toast on a Saturday morning,
I am disgusted with myself.
There is no eating,
No thinking,
No breathing,
Without wanting the one thing I can't have.

I no longer want to write--
You can see right through my words,
The passion,
The spirit,
Makes those cowards shy away.

I am the coward.
Do I kick too hard when they can't move,
Or am I being beaten when I'm down?
This see-saw
Takes away my part
Before I can play the role.

You ask me--
"Why do you hate yourself?"
I can never be everything I hoped to be.
Solivagant: wandering alone.
lX0st Jul 2014
They say God is the most important being,
But don't they realize
He's the one
That sends us to Hell?
And don't people understand
That by teaching someone to shoot,
They become vulnerable?
Dramatic irony.
Maybe we should be
More versed in Shakespeare
Than in the Bible.
Maybe then
I wouldn't have so many bullet holes
In my back.
Michael Amery Jul 2014
Your sad eyes awaken a need within me to heal the heart which cries tears poorly hidden by the night rain.

Who left you out in the cold?
Whose harsh hands left those marks upon your skin?

Something in me wants to save you from your chosen fate;
Lean into my protective embrace and I promise you no hurt shall ever visit you again.
We both recognize that lie;
The saviour is nothing more than the precursor to the persecutor,
I would lay you upon a cross we built from your past misfortunes and misdeeds, and the understanding which thinly covers my hate.

Better I offer you nothing now but a friendly smile,
And leave you, alone, cold in the rain, waiting for the man who bruised your face,

I would batter your soul.
For the poor girl I walked by.
It's hard to think-
this time last week-
I was searching for weeds-
in the cracks of the street-
in front of the church-
Where I once worked-
In the sun, hardwork-
Pulled weeds all day till my hands hurt-

I was working at the shelter when he found me-
said son you need to leave-
move out, get out of this town-
because you ain't happy, and you sure as hell ain't proud.

Back to flint-
crime hole of Michigan-
where I once lived-
when I was a kid-
where the buildings look like ****-
and the streets smell like ****-

It's been six years since I left for Maine-
I've searched flint up and down for a familiar face-
the only thing familiar was the old cafe-
we spent summers here, breakfast everyday.

Lady at the counter asked "sweetie what's your name"-
She was cleaning the tables while I had my tea-
She said they don't pay her enough for this ****.
I said "you still make more than me"

She recognized my face-
I asked her if She remembered any of my friends-
We used to come here everyday-
After school. For burgers and shakes-

I explained, I never kept in touch-
I'm not the type to, And even if I did-
they wouldn't hear from me that much-

I told her what had happened. How I lost my house in flames. I have no where to stay, not my parents, and I don't have any friends.

She said she remembered you. She remembered how we were always
together.

Asked if you still lived in town-
She said yeah-
she sees you sometimes, hanging around.

She set a glass down-
Poured some tea-
Shared a cup with me-
She said I don't want to be involved with you-
Asked her what she means.

Welcome home. She said.
She winked. Again.
Napkin and a pen.
Gave me an address.

Out past the green light,
Past The fairgrounds.
I drive out and around.
And found my self nearly out of gas.
Every light stayed green as I would pass.
There was never any traffic in this town. Or at least none that would last.
Drive past old miss myrtles.
Her house was covered in vines.
She used to leave her window open,
Set there fresh baked pies.
I wonder of she's alive.
I found your house.
Boarded up.
Two men came out.
Undone zippers and button ups.
One laughed and smirked, pretty girl.
Worth every dime.
The veins in my neck popped and i clenched my fists at my side.
You walked out side.

You stood there, so beaten.
It's clear that you've eaten,
Some fists in your life.
You walked back in side.
It's too late to hide,
The black bruises, your eyes.
Don't try and disguise it's too late for make up and lies.
Drugs and money on the table.
Your life's a pond that stands still.
One drop or touch,
And you shake and waver, the flavor is enough.
Holes in the roof.
Teeth on the ground.
Trash and needles,
Radio blaring loud.
Outside traffic.
Busted lips, white noise.
In a crib, a witnessing
little boy.
Thought of you more and more.
Saw a sign, you were what I came home for.
Not your arm full of scars,
Or face full of sores.
All my friends have left and gone.
Numbers lost.
Seems like this whole town is dead.
Every street lights stuck on red.
Charlie May 2014
I cannot be angry,
  for fear of hurting you.
I cannot be happy,
  for it won't be true.
    So here I am,
      beaten,
        broken and
  miserable too.
When no matter how much you hurt, knowing that showing it will only hurt the one you love even more.
Anthony Perry May 2014
The bags underneath my eyes carry so much weight,
every hour i dont sleep adds to what i cannot take,
there's too many reasons why i cant sleep at night,
everything's caused by me trying to do whats right,
nothing counts anymore when i'm beaten down but all that matters to you is wearing your crown.
Have i ever mentioned that its really hard to care when emotions are so rare? I know I must have said it somewhere,
when i caught you in a lie I still tried to be fair but now you want to go behind my back and do it all again?
No, don't you ******* dare. All these feelings have led me astray, maybe this is where im supposed to stay but this can't be it,
there's got to be another way.
Patience is life's blood,
so much has poured over my edge that everywhere i step is a pile of black mud. I'll be here waiting for something new,
in a dark place hating all of you with my head down low and my hopes for something new, amidst the confusion, at least its something to do.
Sky Apr 2014
Do you remember the time you crinkled up your nose at the sound of my favorite band and shook your head in dissaprovement?
You used to do it all the time
You picked at me like you picked at your scabs
Except instead of it hurting you, it hurt me

Do you remember when you said why with a look of disgust when you saw the scars on my ankles and I told you I was sad, that I'd cut them with razors and scissors?
I still do it all the time

I remember the next day after you found out you told your friend and he told the entire softball team and I asked you why with a look of disgust on my face, you said well it's gross
And my eye lids filled with tears, the dam broke and they fled free
You said stop, you're making a scene

One day when I came home from the library I found my Christmas lights that were strung across my walls, crushed into pieces
And you said you need to grow up and stop acting like a child
I screamed in terror that you destroyed them just like my heart
But all you did was laugh and say oh please, stop being so melodramatic

Nothing I did was ever good enough for you

You painted my walls grey so I could toughin' up and stop whining all the time
How the hell was grey walls going to do that?
I hated you so much but was so afraid of that hand that was inevitably going to collide with my face and legs and back and nose
And those hands that would crush my bones over and over
And that fist that would plant a black and blue bruise on my left eye

Why do you hurt me?
Dedication goes to any woman who has ever Ben beaten, or man for that matter. This is not an experience that has happened to me, by the way.
Jasmine smiles Apr 2014
Words are just broken meanings
Just constantly taking beatings.
Slowly they begin to die
More and more with every lie.
Always said and always misused
Till soon enough their souls are skewed
And they now mean nothing to you.
I love you, I promise, I will never leave you, you are beautiful to me. Words with empty meanings
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