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Jade May 4
It’s tough “love”
tough love
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There's no forgiveness for what I did!
For you and your crimes
And your horrors
And 'evil deeds,
There'll be always
A Word, a good opinion
To have and think about.
There's no forgiveness for what I did!

There can't be forgiveness for what I did.
You, on the other hand,
For you all due respect.
You and those horrors
You had to do,
You had to do.
Respect: how else to terrify
Your enemy
So cruel...
For you, all due respect.
- I don't know what I could have done in any past life, said the girl, to deserve this!

"God rest the good man's soul."
When someone can love you someone can Save you.
Thomas W Case Mar 21
I let what you
thought about me,
and said about me,
matter more than what I
knew about me.
Way too intertwined with
your sickness and cruelty.
Far too beat down under your
brutal regime.
Nowadays, I wake up overjoyed that
I now live the obvious.
Who gives a **** what you think?
This poem is dedicated to Chester Bennington lead singer of Linkin Park, rip Chester, you gentle soul.
Maitsholo Feb 23
He left
After he said
He will always be here
He crushed me
I don't know if it was his intentions or a mission to hurt me
If it was a mission

He left my heart broken
He left my soul restless
He left my mind at war
He left me lost

He did everything so not to be forgotten

He took everything but left the memory of us behind

He left an image of himself all over my body
He left scars

The hurt he caused was on repeat and that  kept him in my story
He never really left
He was always here as he said he will.
Where's humanity the moment one decides to hurt the next person intentionally?

Still haven't got the answer to that☝
If I was an Eagle I would prey on you
And my prayer would be to take you on the wing

If you were my victim then you too would know
The certainty of the truth in being an offering.

Let my Poet's fingers bleed to the bone for you
And my choice of words metaphor your suffering

Sometimes eating grapefruit through the skin
Life finds itself making sense of shuddering

But the first to feel it is the last to know
And a Poem made of every slaughtering
She is in-law
Didn't study law
Acquired relation
When she was dying
Writhing in pain
Flopping like a fish
She fulfilled her
Long desired wish
Made a video of her
A sweet memory for future
How did people know it
An in-law told it
Both no more in this world
Watches video
Sweet memory for her!
Ces Sep 2020
The optimist's naivete
is his fuel for living
I dare say relinquish such notions
of fairylands and Peter Pans
For the negative has truth
in itself
and there is beauty still
in a world of cruelty.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
Mud bath
Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still beaten
But at least not dead
*******, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me

Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
Inspired by several news stories about bullying. What struck me was the tragedy of the bullied person coming back, again and again, to the bullies, probably craving attention, perhaps hoping for eventual acceptance, and how that same need (to return, to be accepted) not only intensified the bullying but justified that intensity ("What did he expect? He kept coming back for more!") In the extreme case, the intensification resulted in death. The death itself was seemingly blamed in part on the victim ("Well, he didn't object to us doing X, so naturally we tried X+1. I guess it's sad that X+1 killed him, but all he had to do was [...] and he didn't, so, you know: he didn't save himself.") One of the acts of bullying that struck me was walking on the victim's body, especially across puddles, gravel and mud. I was also surprised by how poorly the bullies were able to explain why they chose their particular victims. Their explanations amounted to: (1) he existed, (2) he existed around us, (3) he kept existing around us despite what we were doing, and (4) he was weird.
Norman Crane Aug 2020
He brought spiders to the schoolyard
      to crush them
He attended Julliard
      to learn Bach's partitas for violin
He pays women to undress for him
      and beats them
Knowing culture is a game
      we play
The boy and the man are the same
Performed in various ways
      the notes stubbornly remain
What's born cannot be changed
      one musical phrase
Nurture is Nature's
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