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Dream Fisher Dec 2019
I hang my head down low
When the mask falls and everybody knows,
Don't look through my windows,
Shades closed, I'm ok because they say so.
I'm not ok but I make those jokes
So they don't see real pain,
They don't see emotional strain.
Tried to fix the engine but it blows up.
Back on a clean slate, inside ready to erupt
No look he's normal, he must be great.

Don't talk about it, just walk around it
Look how happy the little clown is
I pull these balloons so they go loose,
Blow them up and tie my noose
Hung up until I deflate too soon
Playing that pop goes the weasel tune.
1st Verse:

I walked a long
And lonely road
To you

It was the only
Thing I knew
To do

A prodigal to
You I ne-
Ver was

I came back home
To face the
Li ons

Chorus (EDM)


You can not
Do a thing


Your arrows
Won't rehurt me

You can not
Guilt trip me

Cause there's one

You dont
I don't care
I don't ca
I don't care
Phi Kenzie Jul 2018

I’m going to go out there


I mean this is just




I’m not even mad at-


whoever broke in, I-


just want to sleep

beep beep
*beep beep*
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Beep ..beep…beep
Ceiling closed by
Foot rested above my head
Arms cuffed, multiple Punctures
Half vein, half wire
Half Survive, half dead
Attachment with Machines

Beep.. beep.. beep
Screen displays, I still survive
Hope of Humanity from Machines
Health status, undergone Inertia
Sometime, time wins the race
Sometime, time follows my pace
Accelerated Life, Arrhythmia of thought
The last Stop
Genre: Clinical
Theme: Life seen so close.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
So you are lost in dreams so deep whole night
And I long to hear phone's beep whole night

At dawn, I realised, my awakening
Though my destiny remained asleep whole night

I know the remedy, I know the toxin..
What to lose, and what to keep whole night

She might have waited for me to take her back
This is what made me to weep whole night

Sharafat, night is to sleep, not to write
Don't let enemies to creep whole night
Poet's observation and suffering of whole night.
Nicholas Jun 2015
I love the feel of teeth
and how they were used
when you punctured my skin
and let out the blood beneath.
{Oh, I love your teeth}
when we used the air between our cheeks
to push it out under tongues
before we fell asleep.
And I love the stains across those cheeks.
The streams sting after they settle.
After it spills on our bed sheets.
But these day were made to suffer
and I'm the one to blame
because if I'm suffering alone
|  it will keep you sane.  |
|  And you'll never stay the same.  |
|  and I'll dampen all your pain.  |
so that in case you're coming down
I'll fall in your place.
Because there's absolutely nowhere for me to go
absolutely nowhere but into your dreams
into your head where I pray you still keep me.
But I am the martyr
and I'm not done bleeding
abyssinia Jun 2015
"Beep, Beep, Beep..."
It was the beginning of another day.   "
Just a little longer."
I thought as I  reached across the bed to hit snooze
story of my life
bucky Oct 2014
Show me, you say, *show me the hallway.
                         Show me the bedroom, show me where we used to live. That tree, over there, with the apples.
                                                               You, and then not you.
You, crossed out.
                                                            ­                          You, in the windowsill
                                                   with your hair pulled back.
Take me, I say, take me like we're already dead.
                                                                ­                  You know how this ends.
              My hands, your hands, harmony.
A lit match, maybe. And death itself, there beside us.
                                        **** me, you know how,
              you've done this before, I say, panic and soap that smells a bit too much like your brother's wake.
                                                           ­                     Play me a funeral song. Impress me, and you say,
                                                            ­        what's left to impress?
And maybe I'm not the antichrist, but it's not like you are, either.
           This, our hands, you, the radio stuck on one station, crossed out.
Red pen.
                                                                ­        This isn't a temporary solution.
            You're singing, I say, and you just keep on, say,
                                                     this isn't a funeral,
like it's none of my business.
                                 The radio again, playing the only way it knows how.
The mountains, over there in the distance,
                                                       ­                                               spying on us.
Your hands, my hands, ******* like knots, like
                                       this is the only way we can love. But it’s not, is it,
             don't you remember the treehouse?
Three blocks down the road a man has blood on his hands, and you are the man and you aren't, all at once.
                                                  You, me, clockwork.
A bell, tolling in the distance.
                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                                                                                            Repeat.
i don't know how to write poetry
bucky Sep 2014
guess you shouldve thought about that
before you broke your mothers back,huh,sweetheart?
in my anthology that will probably never be published this and vol 1 go right next to each other so people see the contrasting lengths (~841 words vs 14. yes)
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