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oh how far i have
let myself go

i have forgotten
how it feels
how the words

no more

i need to express
how i feel
and i have never learned
how to be vocal

its been about five years since i last wrote a poem.
Gea Venise Oct 8
I did ask for it.
I wanted him to touch me.
I did ask
For the happiness
It might possibly bring.

But he touched me too hard.
It made me bleed.
Isabella Oct 7
The nails at the ends of my fingers
Are a different kind of blade
They aren't ice cold or sharp
But I bleed just the same

The scratches on my arms
Are from a different kind of pain
It isn't deep and firey
But the scars still remain
Ces Sep 25
A ceaseless motion
hither and yonder
like the jumbling of blind ants
in a narrow path
of wet pheromones.

Backbreaking labor
A cruel slaver
lashing his whip
that cracks painfully
drawing blood from the back
of the hapless wretch.

A joke that amuses no one
An insufferable itch
demanding to be scratched
so hard that it bleeds

Then in a moment

Asphyxiated and forgotten.
Savio Fonseca Sep 19
Love is a Word that has,
a Million Meanings.
It just needs Two Hearts,
with never ending Feelings.
Love is like a Beauty Contest,
the Heart will Judge and Choose.
Love is like a Game of Finals,
U really don't want to Lose.
Love is like a Band-Aid,
Healing your wounds that Bleed.
Love is found One in a Million,
Luck is all U Need.
Love is a Fidelity Test,
tempting U to Cheat,
But if U get caught,
U will surely feel the Heat.
Kashish Aug 20
There are certain emotions I am unable to process
They’ve left me suffocated. They cause me to stress
Stress over things that might be of no value in the near future
But it is now; they make me feel like I am a complete loser
These emotions go tough on my body but they flow with ease as I bleed on paper
And the feelings I once had for people I loved, are depleting layer by layer.
Written word used to be an
extension of my mind; my
       thoughts imprinted onto paper
   in neatly formed sentences.

but now                              
they are jagged
malformed.                    ­            

I can't seem to put the words
together into sentences that  
have meaning.                      

The razor edge of my words
cut me, bleed my body dry
until there's nothing left    
but dust.
I'm tired....
Isabella Aug 14
They told me to pick up the knife
That with it I’d be able to break the chains keeping me to the ground
And cut the rope holding my throat to the ceiling
So I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal
Only to feel a sharp sting as hot fire poured from my palm onto the concrete floor
But I didn’t let go
Even though I had grabbed hold
Ever so tightly
Of the wrong end
scars heal until i cut myself again
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