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Scarlett Apr 14
greedy fingers
stolen flesh
beneath fingernails
wounds still fresh
missing entrails
I know you took it
bloodied hands and all
I'll take your limbs
you better learn to crawl

give back my heart.
he who consumes excessive amounts of female flesh, what a sinner indeed.
abby Mar 12
I bury my head below the tide to remind myself that I am alive
Seanathon Mar 6
Poetry is a smooth stone slipping
Wavering back and forth in the water beneath
And the fall of all in a slow transcendent arc
Until it comes to rest
Like all poetry
At the end and beneath
And poetry below
Amanda Mar 4
My toe
Is filled
With woe
Because one
Sad solo
Sock and shoe
With wet ice
And freezing snow
But I won't show
Or let anyone know
The cold I feel
Numbing me slow
I know
It will grow
But onwards
I go
I guess
My warmth
I owe
To this foe
I realized
Long ago
I can't or won't
Or say no
To chilly air  
That through me flows
Without fail
Stealing my glow
I suppose
I'm used to it though
This evil villian
That stays down low
My feet
I wrote this nine years ago!
The restless souls
Dark and cold

Deep below ground
Secrets are found

Where memories sleep
The past shall reap
A prophecy for a story I am working on.
Seanathon Feb 8
Did you know?

That those shimmering shining reflective lines
Are from the deepest puddles man has yet to know?

And yet we call them ghosts
Out of limelight fear
Not of London made
But no less below

For beneath every living thing there is this
A shadow
A shadow
Stark Nov 2018
Red for the blood dripping from a vein
White for the sheets that cover the dead
Blue for the visible beyond that is the sky

For every drop of red silk that
Glitters in the sun
One is a step closer to freedom
From the blood that ties us
To its fiery core

For every pure cotton cloth that
Shadows over the deceased
One has risen halfway,
Breaking their ties
With the underground deep below

For every new light
Borne from the dreamy blue sky
One has earned their freedom
From their mundane, mortal body

No longer held down by hunger
No longer held by thirst
No longer needing shelter
No longer needing clothing

Freedom from Earth
Comes in shades of
Red, white, and blue
wrote this after some ideas I was pondering over regarding freedom.
Seanathon Nov 2018
Looking at an author

It’s in the cheekbones
Below the eyes
Beneath the subtle shades of truth
It lies
To hide the self
Hiding itself
Yet worlds
Worlds are presented as such
So as to think
That they reside inside

And sometimes they do
Who? A girl named door of course.
Poetic T Aug 2018
Beyond the throws of gravities
                     memories swinging.

Collecting  views of
                           sorrowful glances.

Swinging, a hangman
                          regretful essences.

But never once feeling the noose
                   tighten, tears hang here.
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