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Dianali Nov 4
There’s anger in your gaze
Is my naïveté an annoyance?
Is my subtle, glowing hope
Too neon, too bright
for such tired,
bloodshot eyes?
How many sleepless nights
Alienated from the radiant souls
have you experienced?
How is life like
In such complete darkness?
Why are you so mean?
Dianali Sep 23
They keep on taking,

I am already empty.

What else can you strip me of?

My soul is already naked,

My flesh exposed

My heart vulnerable and lost
Xan Sep 2
you were cruel
the intoxicating type of cruel
the type that'll lure me to you

to everyone you'd be a monster,
to me
you're one cruel son of a gun..
the type I'll be keeping
forever.

now what's really cruel is how much you ignore me,
how much you make me jealous
it makes me insane, love...

just please be more gentle with my heart?
don't use it like a punching bag...
I beg of you..
noura Aug 6
It was not supposed to be that way.
No green-purple spots in my eyelids, I said,
said
no graveyard asphalt on the back of my knees.
It was supposed to approach me modestly,
quietly,
with blushing fingertips and eons of time.
I had imagined it would approach me modestly.

In the meantime, I could visit a brothel
or two
***** my heart out, spread open its capillaries.
Poetry is prostitution of the lewdest kind
and how lovely, while I **** my paragraphs
to eat a man
or two?
There was one
with hardened fingertips and no more than a second to spare.

I had imagined it would approach me plainly.
No sifting through mounds of shell and bone, I said,
said
no puppet shows.
No masquerades, and my veins were supposed to do their job.

This was supposed to be my play,
my knight takes rook,
my girl takes respite.
I was supposed to come out golden.

He was not cruel but it seeped out of him
like mustard gas.
Sickly, yellow,
I inhaled it with relish
acid burned its way down my cheeks
through my chest.
And how beautiful, to love and be loved
without feeling it crush your lungs.
Nigdaw Mar 3
I witness the cruelty
I feel the beauty
what hurts me is
I'll never know
if you see it too
I hope you understand
how much I miss you
a life stolen from us
by the everyday events
that separate the way
we want to go
it feels as though we steal
the daylight we share sometimes
an almost guilty pleasure
not something we should
have a right to
Carlo C Gomez Feb 28
~
Dead channel skies
Segregation in the flat fields
A hole in the silver lining
Where the fence is low

~
They fell from the moon last night
Caught in a strange
Chapter of fear
The land is inhospitable
And so are we
Wipe them from your mind
We must preserve what is left

~
Jeremy Betts Jan 2021
The only role I ever land is "outcast tortured by the cruelty and pain of his past" I sure didn't choose this path, feels more as though I've been typecast, or maybe I am a *******, holding out for every last ounce of pain before I blast this trader living in my head for the last 30 years off my shoulders, through a window pane, then, just as fast, turn to the vast hole in my chest that once held my heart and press the cold steel to it with the mass of my dread firmly in my grasp, gun fire drowned out by echoing laughs, fulfilling a prophecy of my future while neglecting lessons from my past, the game of life feels less like a game of chance and more like a test that's harder to advance than all the rest and wouldn't you know it, I fell asleep in class and didn't pass, apparently I even tuned out the emergency broadcast. Went and amassed a losing record that'd be impressive if not for the direct contrast the win column presents and the enormous shadow my downfall casts. Harassed by the devil on each shoulder, I thought that maybe once I got older, if I could just stay on task and remain steadfast, I would be able to open a can of whoop a$$ and trespass the evil within this house of glass but alas I must telegraph my every move or they've seen a future telecast because they lambast each strike and I'm not sure I'll outlast these issues, I'm gassed, plus, problems have started showing up in mass from a much higher weight class, they must have bypassed the weigh in process but I've always known who the deck was stacked against, hence why I never win, I only survive and my methods would flabbergast most, the truth finds it's way to the surface and I find myself aghast, crying like I've been teargassed with no gas mask but I've surpassed the point where waterworks will bring forth empathy, gotta own my involvement in the crash, volunteer to take out my own trash and this time I'll throw my pain out with the bath water and be free at last...free at last, free at last, no thanks to god almighty I'll be free at last

©2021
Thomas W Case Oct 2023
She is safe in
her madness.
A comfortable
tomb, convenient,
but suspect.
I wish it were
a gentle lunacy,
like Don Quixote,
almost admirable.
But it's rabid like
a berserker or
harpy, shrieking at
love and light.
destroying everything.

Some people are
drunk on power, pride,
and control.
When they
wake up and realize
they aren't God,
they change
direction or perish.
Bree marie Sep 2023
beaten & broken these words are often left unspoken.

Cries ignored, left unheard.

Black eyes & broken ribs, how is this the life a person should live.
Andreas Simic Jun 2022
Everyone would call her a hero
Carrying yet another soon to be orphaned child to safety
Leading group after group destined for destruction
Down the railway track of hope
Fighting not only the threat of death
But nature’s cold frigid grasp
Her own safety in the balance every time
She returned over and over again
Man, woman or child equally saved
The risks were great the reward greater
In a time and age of war
With no regards to race, color or creed
Cruelty unbound
She plodded on
Exhaustion filling the mind with thoughts of giving up
Yet her drive and spirit refused to cave in
Each trip meant more would live
How could she stop now
One day when all was said and done
Would they remember her or her deeds
It didn’t matter because this was about them
She knew the way
And would light the path
To a life which would grow and flourish
Her reward the look of relief on their faces
When they realized they had made it to the end of the line
Freedom was waiting

Andreas Simic©
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