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B Chapman Oct 2017
Martyr complexes running wild
My own fueling this escape
Ties are charred and crumbling
In their minds I am to blame.

Slave to the lender
Though owed so much
Is this strength
Or is it greed?

Weeping at their feet
Begging for love and acceptance
Invalidated and dismissed
I should have kept my distance.

I am not the Phoenix
Rising from the ashes
I am the flame
An unassuming figure of destruction.

Desperate for survival of spirit
Licking my wounded soul
Never enough to those I trust
Manipulations crease in the fold
Dawn Treader Mar 2017
Anybody who knows her
Understands she's not like the others
Head in the sky, feet on the ground
Detached when she speaks, cold she sounds,
But her heart is a warm place,
For those she lets in,
The select few see her distant but gleeful grin,
Aware she's different and that's alright,
Because this Nefelibata is always in flight
Head in the sky, feet on the ground
A nefelibata's mind knows no bounds.
Nefelibata: A cloud walker; One who lives in the cloud of their own imagination or dreams, or one who does not abide by the precepts of society, literature, or art; An unconventional, unorthodox person.
with all these Black Sheep
    from the bottom end
    of the top 1 percent
in the new government
spewing lies without shame
we will have to rename
the White House
Apropos recent developments
traces of being Nov 2016
back from the brink
of blindly falling;
back alone again
in a crowded room

there is no bridge
over troubled waters,
no way to purge
vast oceans
when deep rivers foment
pitch black
swallowed by an insatiable sea

no good shepherd to gather
an abandoned black sheep
cast heedlessly away
from the fold

unbefriended
like a dogless bone

a stain on impeccable sublime
a hopeless wanderer
stalled on the brink
of a threshold lost in time

purge me from your poetry
so I won’t remember
the insatiable  ache
of inerasable words
left unsaid

you lured me out
from the cold & darkness
to freeze my heart
in naked light of day

purge me from your poetry
like you spilled me
from your heart;
don’t come back here
to this slippery, lonely edge,
just to bid adieu

as if I didn't notice you were gone

purge me from your poetry
so I can accept without
sorrow's ache so deep;
in unbroken silence
a heart silent  atones not pretense,

and yet,

the only lie you whispered was "friend"



November 2016  ... wild is the wind
Yusof Asnan Aug 2016
I'll tell you as story,
She was different,
I'll tell you why,
She lost love and all hope,
She cries herself to sleep,
The heart can only beats,
To the hollow that it holds,
She doesn't have to cut herself,
Because the pain she feels are more permanent,
Like a disease slowly eating her up.


Let me tell you more,
She was surely different,
Her family was all fine,
Her parents are good,
They didn't have any money complications,
But she couldn't fit in,
Always a stranger to her own house,
A foreign place to which she calls home,
Telling her that she's just thinking too much,
And the problem was with herself.


I'm going to tell you more,
She was not like others,
She didn't cry or ask for help,
Not even for a little light for the day,
She held it all in,
Accepting all her hate for herself,
She expressed them in words that which is for no one to see,
She would lay wake on her bed all night thinking what was wrong,
Even when she sleeps; She was not free,
Her nightmares are equally worse.


I'll tell you her better part,
Or at least some part better,
She has her friends,
At one point she felt like she was in a group,
Like somehow there's a place that she could fit in,
But as time flies,
They started to know her,
And they didn't like it,
They started to hate,
Her so called friends would backstab her,
Even when she already has her back against the wall.


So there's nothing much to tell,
She just doesn't belong,
Being with her own mind,
Which she didn't understand herself,
Always trying to figure out what's wrong with her,
Looking out for the worst of everything.


-HIY
here is a piece inspired by Natalie Mervin's Complication, as a support for those self harming victims. Hers was so much better and mine is about even a good surroundings could defect someone.

Enjoy.
GaryFairy May 2016
all the things that a mother does
a loving touch, a hand that heals
I wouldn't know what that is like
I wouldn't know how that feels

she is just another stranger
though, the vessel of my birth
she never did what a mother does
though, she put me on this earth

I felt a bond when I was young
but that bond faded away
these words only burn my tongue
"happy mother's day"
traces of being Mar 2016
there’s a hole in my sole
that helps me feel the ground
wandering alone
this long and winding road

a black sheep
never sheds its wool
forever garnered unworthy to be
glibly cast off by the fold

a greater loss than ever be known
washed away like season’s rain
changing tides do steal away
castles made of sand

it’s a hard journey
to carry the weight of the load
the gravity of obscurity,
the potholes in the road

comes a time, stalled at crossroads,
it just don’t matter anymore;
a time to carry on, a time for letting go
a time to walk another mile
in these worn out shoes, alone

I’m more than you’ll never know
a body in a soul
I didn’t even want the heart you broke,
it’s yours to keep --

I finally found my real name,
shed this invisible skin;
I won’t be me
when you see me again
I'm leaving the invisible world

there's never a breathe
you can afford to waste
wandering alone again
this long and winding road...


                                                 wild is the wind © 3.15.2016
Notes (optional)

some say, "you can't lose what you never had (?!)"

i need to keep reminding myself that destiny "is" fate... nothing more, nothing less...just what "is"....you can't steer the river

even knowing in your heart, "acceptance" may be just another word for giving up
Coko Oct 2015
I'm the black sheep
I'm the outcast
And I'm the reason people don't come over to the house
I kick and I buck
I don't fall in line
Nothing I do is good enough for this family of mine

I once blended in
But then I got rejected
Slowly turning my life
In a different direction
I am the black sheep of my family of seven
I'm unique
Special
Distinctively Distinct
I am the peculiar one
The unusual one
The idiosyncrasy of the group

I am the daughter that can not be accepted
So I live in rejection
Leal Knowone Mar 2015
you shook my status as mere mortal,as you opened up Satan's portal, achieve true greatness
true power, the omnipotent godliness, begging the end when the end should begin
different yet accepted by the black sheep, and the wolf, pit against the weak
archetypal situation bleak,beware of what you dream for,entrails spread across the floor
you'll pray for death, when they all find out, the wicked darkness from the dragons mouth
now I live in the borderlands,blood and **** within the sand,Blood of every man
PERSONAL DEMONS BECOME COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS. irreverent irrelevance.on the fence
we've lost the keys to the kingdom. we must stop running in place, be the change you want
day dreams, must be a reality. sanity chosen inside the minds of the insane
being lost a perennial classic. you want them to see the little movie in your head
Christ posse, blue birds, and the doors is painted red
how do your dreams match up against this created reality you exist in now
the city of the dead, the cities have all burned down
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