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Raven Nov 2015
Sometimes
I tend to forget
and become too careless;
I let my guard down
and let someone in
far enough
To break my heart

Each time
I tell myself
I will never
let it happen again

With each lesson learned
My armor strengthens
And I hope it’s hard enough
To not let it happen again.
Take heed fellow traveler...

For inside the mind of every man
There is a saboteur
Wreaking havoc in your head
Filling you with dread

This saboteur is silent
Only you can hear its voice
Pounding in your senses
With every single choice

Do not lock yourself away
With a scheming saboteur
Or place yourself within its path
Or attempt to cure it of its wrath

You may think to follow it a while
That selfish saboteur
A word of caution:
With every mile, room, and tile
The saboteur holds your very soul on trial

While you suffer from the stress
Of trying to be your best
The saboteur is the one who stirs
Giving you no rest

However...

If you still struggle to seek it out
Or make this picture clearer
To learn the face of a saboteur
You need only find a mirror
Lakin Oct 2015
My thoughts are contaminated with an unknown radiation
and the blood in my veins feels as if it has have been replaced
by toxic sludge.

There are ink stains on the bedding where my body rested
from the times were my quarantined mind was deprived of slumber, for further testing.
AM Sep 2015
Stop tearing up my heart
you live inside there, remember?
cyanide skies Aug 2015
he's asked for
a cigarette

but he doesn't smoke
turns out his pockets
and is shot dead
in a pool of misplaced caution
tinged red
veins expelling
voices garbling
until there is darkness
because there is no heaven
and there is no hell

there's only the misplaced caution
of a man who never smoked
in a world of gunpoint and demand.
**
Kindness Kills Aug 2015
They warned me about crossing streets.
I was taught to look both ways.
To make sure there was no oncoming traffic so I would not get hit by a car because they did not want to see me hurt.
But they never warned me about boys with sweet words and soft hands. They never warned me that words as delicate as feathers that tickle me in the moment can feel like knives later. They never warned me that the oils seeping through the pores on his hands would burn like acid when I think of him at 2 in the morning.
They taught us to look both ways before crossing the street incase a car came out of nowhere, they never taught us to look both ways when it came to boys.
You came out of nowhere and I didn't think to look both ways.
I didn't even think "could this go good or bad?" I just stepped forward and oh boy you left your mark on me.
It was a hit and run.
You came from a blind spot, I never saw you coming, you never even checked to see if I was okay you just sped off.
Some nights I can still hear your voice calling my name, and sometimes I swear I can feel your bumper against my skin.
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
please let the
author'd
man
take heed!
let his steps
hold firm and
emboldened
by his only
Father
and
let him
compose a
life worth
reading!



for
ev'ry
man is
given a gift,
the quill of choice
and the inkwell of his
own will and reason,
and should he take
care to fill it with
his col'r—the
onliest brand
of his deepening
desire—then let him.
and, let him strike at the
pages with precision—as a
surgeon of the parchment for
he never wastes a page and
should he always have
a word to say,
then
let him
compose a
life worth
reading!



may
he teach
his children well
and may their choices
be a song—sweet lyrics
of their compassion
and innocence.
and let them
cherish
their
gifts and
practice proper
penmanship that their
choices in life may encourage
those both young and old and that
they may inspire those that misuse
their only gift not to author
their filthy obscenities
and blasphemies
and curses
against
both
Father and
fellow man. and
should any man advise
his own to embrace the
expressions of pace
and of repetition
or should he
encourage
them to
speak
once,
then
*let him
compose a
life worth
reading!


∘ ⊱‧⌍  ⌈✞⌋  ⌌‧⊰ ∞
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
KB Jun 2015
The night you zipped the moon open
All you felt was the silver wind sharp on
Your face and a hand around your left
Ankle to hold you in place from running again
Two weeks and a couple of swallowed rocks
Later you're telling lies soaked in dim
Constellations that bleed the sun and
You know I can tell.
The ways you begged your hands to let up the
Grip of danger is still not replaced by caution but
The road is not as purple and gold and this lets
The waves breathe a little easier at night
Colour your skin in stories that sound like
Orange nights and metallic spray paint
So that the clouds in your stomach will be
Able to guide the rough waters close to
Home but nothing about you is home
And nothing about me belongs to one
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