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Pedro Vialle Sep 23
Run
Run
for your life
not knowing what way
danger comes from
red and blue lights
shots fired
stray bullets
easy targets
never the bad guy
but always the black no one
tell me, when?
when this will stop?
when all this spilled blood
will finally be enough?
**** all those uniformed *******, those hateful pigs! They're killing CHILDREN over here...
MeanAileen Sep 22
load your gun
with a nice shiny bullet-
finger on the trigger,
be ready to pull it.
make sure the barrel
is aimed at my head,
then force me to eat
that hot molten lead.
paint my brains
all over the wall,
see my knees buckle-
watch as I fall.
my lifeless body
then covered in red...
told you that I'd be
better off dead!
I don't really know where this came from...? But I don't condone ******. Usually.
Anastasia Sep 22
red roses
and tulips
petals
in your hair
lips
on mine
a day
like this
something
in the air
fingers
on my waist
sweet
cherry taste
this love
of mine
bound
by crimson twine
blood drips
from tiny ******
sharp thorns
with ruby tips
with all of my being, i love him
Poetry thought me how

To bleed

Without the demand

For blood.
Flower C Sep 21
Vestal white roses,
Shed their serrated surface,
Then tainted in red.
A Greek goddess, love, roses, and blood.
lua Sep 20
The blade shone in the sun's rays
My breathing was stuttered and frantic
My body shivered and trembled
Shaking and quivered
I could taste the blood on my tongue
And feel the ache
The throbbing of my heart
The churning of my stomach with fear
I see the way your grip tightens with every beat of your heart
You watched me
I watched you
We both take a stance




I listen to your prayers
Prayers to the sun
You asked for guidance




I take the first swing




And I take the last.
taken from my original story
Xant Sep 19
The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored
My high school friend who had a dysfunctional family told me that she would never want to go home ever again.

She sees her family as what was beautiful, now sorrowful.

I could only imagine how her sweet childhood memories (re: yellow brick road) had turned bitter (re: red from blood).

And this poem, I dedicate it to her.
I wish her happiness :)
Anna Sep 19
I hit the kitchen floor
With a soft thud
Suddenly, I taste the blood flavor
Of the pool that runs over my forehead.

He is right over me
The eyes I felt in love surround me
They make me fear in
And like a frail baby I start trembling.

I lost my regard
Lightning a cigarette
It tastes like your lips, vicious.

Breathing my last air
While I have you in my head
And a demon over my shoulder.
Maya Duran Sep 18
Everything you own is covered in blood.
     They arrive on moments composed of crumpled paper, tired and degraded by the heat and pressure of God's palm, left in Her pocket too long. ******* and apathetic inaction meet in the center of the sheet where your pelvis, your s e x rests while you sleep and lie and lie and sleep and sleep and lie. A Rorschach blot card where you see the death of dignity. Mother, Roommate, and Tinder Dates that you never bring home see everything that they had hoped you weren't.

     Cochina. Pig, ******* pig.

     And I can't read that last verse out loud. That tells you everything you need to know.

Everything you own is covered in blood.
     You bleed when you don't feel enough, or when what you feel isn't what you ought to feel--silly ******* scholarship with the brains and the championed cheek bones (if you just lost the weight, she says to herself sometimes, and her friends don't agree, but there is a deafening lack of disagreement that takes the room).

     Bold girl who never made suicide jokes because she was so so so good at this game called self love until she wasn't. Until she ran out of bad ***** juice. Until she felt the weight of it, the world.

     And so you choose to feel the bite of an exacto knife.

Reliable, that.
Pleasurable, that.
Guilty, guilty pleasure.
Shameful pleasure.

     We were supposed to be grown up, glowed up. Above this.

                                                  **** this.

     When did it become so hard to love yourself?
TW for Self Harm. It was a bad evening. Old temptations came for me
odessa Sep 17
as long as you say i love you
pouring rain in the afternoon
i will believe you
just because i want to be broken
and when you left me alone in the dark
i will destroy myself
in a room full of dust and tear
my sweet blood
my numb soul
my wounded body
gonna haunt you
i do not feel fine and i can not express my feelings so this is the mess inside my head
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