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Evan Serik S Dec 2014
Twin eyes alight like flames so bright, put out in the dark before their first night, not a chance in the world to live in their time, for by a twist of fate they both had to die. Blood in their lungs and holes in their hearts, bleeding out within our sight, we can but only watch as the strongest of us give up and cry, Watching as those two boys now have died, Our spirits broken our minds unleashed we lie awake waiting for release, But the temptress of darkness does not come cheap, she requires our sanity so we sit and weep, its all over for us, the end is near, for without their light it’s to dark to live in this fear. This is what happened when the two boys died, our minds destroyed us and our souls started to fly, as we all give up because there is no light, release never came. So we all had to die.
F White Nov 2014
So Stuck.

Mire of Muck.

Inside my Blood.

On top of my Soul.
Copyright FHW, 2014
Matthew Harlovic Oct 2014
They say I’m a burnout,
they say I’m brain-dead
but I’m proud I turned out,
with a light above my head.

© Matthew Harlovic
Lyra O Jul 2014
Looks like burnout
Tastes like failure
I Can't Believe It's Not Butter
My favourite among the three poems I wrote mere minutes ago. It deserves to be my first entry on this site (imagine the quality of the rest of my poems, then!) More to come, I guess.
Amour de Monet May 2014
Did I tell you?

I’m kind of quiet… no, really, I am. You should see me around people I don’t know…. Ha, yes, I know you don’t believe me… I talk my socks off around you. But, you’re different. You already know the contents of me… I mean, you may not have read every page in detail, but you get the rough draft. Not many people get that. Man, what a stuck up ***** they say… Miss goody two shoes is too good for us… Not all of us are rich like you they say. Oh, how I wish I was any of those things…it wouldn’t sting when they mistook me for anything but the plains, but instead they see skylines and frosted mountains. I am not as complex, I am not as breathtaking, I am not such a climb. It’s funny. i have it together - it appears from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m so tired. I know you know this - but they don’t. They don’t see 14 hour days, 98 hour weeks, 5,784 hour years… of on the go, here you can have my time, my peace, my arms, my legs, my soul. They don’t see that. They don’t see me helping the family when they need food that week..and me not eating. They don’t see my sore back, my restless nights, or the loneliness that follows endless hours. I’m the one missing out… and they think I am better than them. If they only knew how much I wished I could be more like them and less like me…. how they are the morning skies… and I am merely a spectacle to their bold colors. They’re outspoken, care free, sociable, …extroverted. I wouldn’t dare say a word. I know even then they wouldn’t get me… not like you do. I just sit back - quietly, watching, listening, absorbing…an abused sponge from one too many passes on the burnt pan. Ha, that’s me. Still giving my all - in whatever pieces are left of me, trying to shine the world. Silly I am. I’m ready to get out of here… or find myself again, and stop smothering my heart. It’s an out of control fire and my day to day has become the dirt. I think if I exhale in a week you may just see smoke pouring from my lungs… I’m burning out. Can you tell?

— The End —