Sylph 20h
A single cut from my bony wrist--
    up towards my darkened elbow

It's amazing how blood slowly seeps through--
    staining its path a rich crimson hue

A gentle throb before a numbing ache--
    much like before, it's always the same

Shallow wounds are, dare I say--
     nothing more than teasing temptresses of our world today

Blood seeps through, staining its path--
     much like our influence--as we ignore nature's wrath

It's amazing how I still manage to contemplate--
     while ignoring how the cut has become increasingly irate

Shallow wounds

     Shallow wounds

          Shallow wounds.

I really don't understand the sight--
     It just isn't for me--try as I might

Then again, this isn't something I necessarily hate--
     but it surely isn't something I'll try again after this day

Shallow wounds

     Shallow wounds

          Shallow wounds.

Care to give it a try?

   It might not have done it for me--

      but I know it's sure to satisfy.
inner battle scars
clever 21h
i'm so cold i can make your blood boil.
Tara 1d
Half circles plastered on billboards
Blinding white light
A sore face
Blood dripping
Smile dear
One more time
Short piece about smiles- I hate smiles but I know some people enjoy them, if you do more power to ya buddy.
Far away,
Where the ochre of dusk kisses the horizon,
Where the scarlet of blood leaves behind trails,
Where the grey of dust smogs above the rubble,
Rests a content orphan mutilated by war,
In his eternal sleep.

Close by,
Where the wall of portraits poses proud a witness,
Where the shelf of books prisons a beloved diary,
Where the bin of waste smokes with burnt letters of love,
Rests a broken damsel torn by betrayal,
On a pillow wet with tears.

A few fathoms away,
Where the green of suburbs mocks the city of splendour,
Where the thatch of roofs overlooks the wooden stoves,
Where the hunger of eyes satisfies itself with morsels,
Rests a weary mason struggling to survive,
On a floor freezing cold with winter.

Within you,
My lady,
Where the seeds of dormancy give way to saplings of emotion,
Where the fairies of yore build castles of attractive imperfections,
Where the mistletoe of beauty houses my swooning heart,
Rests my incomplete Elysium forged with love,
On a garden littered with flowers of hope.
Can we all build a Elysium, together hand-in-hand? If we could it would be the most beautiful place that ever existed.
There are poor neighborhoods
that are tucked into towns,
where the less educated,
where the lesser of means,
find in the dregs, the ability
to coexist with higher society.

Society is grown to the point of disease,
killing the feeble, disabling the lost,
in the name of and for some ease.
So here comes the city, meaning so well.
They said, "Let's add a train line
to a town that has none!"

Well, there goes the block.
There go the people who
barely have homes.

The Council wants to drop a line
where they see shoes bounce power lines.
What's the harm in displacing
the part of the community already dead?
The town now seems to be just fine
now that the poor are paying fines.
Why not double down and just
gentrify when history tells the story best?

Expand Portland, rid Tigard of blemish,
trade your rug for cement and track.
Beautify Tigard, please your ill desire,
don't be surprised when your eyesore
comes back.

Go ahead, pave your poverty.
Go ahead, clean your streets.
You're thinking, "Lines for dimes."
What do you think a new line means?
What do you think the traffic brings?
The sweet guillotine repeats.
I Chase a Rat  
I want It Dead

I Didn't catch it
It went under my bed

BUT I WANT IT DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!

Then I saw you walking
Wearing RED

I Stand and Turn
Without a Feeling of Dread

I Stare You In The Eyes
"Shall I Kill You Instead?"
There is a monster
Inside of my head.
It’s not in the closet,
Or under the bed.
Us two locked in combat,
Soon one will be dead.
War is peace
For this monster and me.
The arrow,
The notch,
The sword in the sheath,
It stops.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood.
Is it blood?
Have I spilled the beast’s blood?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Perhaps it’s water,
Please give me water.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Tears.
They are mine.
Streaking white across my face.
Fate is truly divine.
Fate is truly divine.
No monsters in the dark to fear,
For my monster is always a mirror near.
Drip,
Drip,
Slay.
There is a monster inside us all, just clawing it's way out. I fight mine all the time, in a constant never-ending warfare, fighting both valiantly and full of cowardice against my most fearsome monster of all... Myself
julianna Jun 10
I'm being bled dry.
The water turns a drip-drip
Over the edge.
My squirming,
Twisted mermaid legs
Shrivel in pain
I'm ugly and deformed.
I gave all I had to give.
So I'm bleeding
And screaming
In this bathtub prison,
But no one will find me here.
Inspired by the song Bathtub Mermaid by Mili... I'm feeling bled dry, stuck in a bathtub. As if I have nothing left to give and I'm just waiting for an end to my slow death.
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