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Xaela San Jul 2018
My blood boils hearing your breathe amongst the air
I can feel my body rage in mere presence of you
As my mouth screams in silence of hatred
With every syllable your tongue twisted;
Such a fruad, fearing not to be judged
What a great ignorance you bear!

But hear me or not young sir, this rage I possess
Is deeper than any lies you made in your lifetime
This, I will use to curse you away from your life
And bury you along my hatred to the bottomless hell I've created;

So you wait for the right time shall come
For the day this vegeance shall be put to hand
And end this misery you've caused
When you took everything from me!
My happiness and my world!;

Prepare and fear me, for I am amongst the shadows of your breath
For vengeance shall rage upon your sinful soul- to death without mercy!
Then never shall I be most grateful for silencing you forever.
Beauty is a blessing and a curse
For both you and I

Whenever I see you utilising your curse
I can only sit and comply

I can become so distracted by your blessing
That I can't unfix my eyes

When I see your entire blessing
I feel the need to have you in my life

Beauty is a curse to me
It is my weakness

It takes over everything within me
Then all I see is your evoking bliss

It is a catalyst to my thoughts and actions,
But negatively effects my loyalty

Then my actions lead to insanity
Toothache May 2018
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Qwn Jul 2018
It burns my throat.
You burn my throat,
when I speak,
so I don't.
I just try to breathe through it
and stop trying to see.
You'd curse
if you could see me now,
taking in toxins
for fun.
But this is what you taught me to do,
when everything hurts.
**** my lungs,
it's not like I could
breathe before anyway.
Bea Mecum Jul 2018
I once played a game of cards with the devil, under a blood red moon upon the lake of our lady Babylon. With a grin, the devil did win, for his hand had totally waisted me.

Shower time- It's better than normal time. Especially with the smell of herb in your head. Step out. Dry off. Hit the herb again. It's time to start the day.

I ingest 3 cups of coffee, and hit the herb again. Then I start my day. I go out into the world. Out there where it is cold. Out there to slave the day away just to do it again the next day.

Please tell me that there is something more than this. I beg, but I get nothing.Maybe in the end, that is all there really is... Nothing. This thought's cold logic sinks in, and I am sick.

Sick of things done in repetition to no end. Tired of hearing the same one line joke day in and day out.

Welcome to my store.

Can I get you any more?

Thank you, come again... and again... and again...

I can not take it any more!

Oh, wait! It's time to clock out.

Hear how the pen scratches the paper. Rolling on fragments of thought. Dripping with the same ink as yesterday. I am bleeding all over this notebook. Could I ever write loud enough, so that somebody could hear me screaming?

I once played a game of cards with the devil, under a blood red moon upon the lake of our lady Babylon. Plain and clean, the devil's hand was mean, for it had totally waisted me.
MicMag Jul 2018
The mind of a poet is such a curse
Its search for words an endless thirst

Poets cannot sit and simply be
Soak in the splendor of all they see

Confronted with beauty which defies description
A quest for lyrics is the poet's prescription

Thinking wordy expression will enhance the sublime
Poets lose the chance to be lost in time

Though graced with wonder again and again
The poet can't find that elusive zen
I sat this week and watched a stunning sunset over the mountains.
And my mind was spinning the whole time looking for the words to describe the incredible sight.
And before I knew it, the sun had set on me, my relaxed enjoyment of the moment, and ironically, on my creative spark as well.
There were no words, but stupid me tried to find them anyway.
K N Brown Jul 2018
when she is alone at last,

she curses

and cries

and erupts into chaos,

for there is no one in the world

who would accept her madness

and still see the sanity
AE Jun 2018
Counting the infinite voyage of the stars
Or thinking of all the drops in the sea
And thinking of the grains of sand on mars
Shrinks my body to microscopic sizes, you see.
Perhaps I'll send a paper plane out in the sky
To watch it fly to distance galaxies of tomorrow
And maybe it'll come right back to where I lie
In my bed of restless thoughts of stress and sorrow.

I'll spill some coins into the street
And watch them tumble by
Just watching them speed by leathered feet
Brings a salty tear to my tired eye.
Because coins have journeys of their own
In the musky old worlds of talk
Once carved straight out of stone
And before people knew to walk.

All the pages in the world wouldn't confuse
What thoughts are born today
Even books created from a powerful muse
Couldn't shake what keeps to stay.
Cause once I challenged God and all
To come down from the clouds
And I stood there sweaty and slipped and fall
To my mind of bewildered crowds.

Maybe now is the time to lay down the sword
Of previous gestures and innocent dust
Maybe now is the time to strike a new chord
To create what inevitably should must.
I'm not retiring from smiles and cheer
And no longer should it be any such curse
As to be what it is to create my own course to steer
No one now has to tell me how to write my next verse.
XyL0S Jun 2018
Forgiving...

It isn't about saying its okay...

It isn't even about being okay,

But about telling them that you aren't,

But will be fine...



.............................................................­...


We all will be...
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