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Rachna Beegun Apr 2017
Forgive me, but I need to get away from all this before it damages me again.
Àŧùl Feb 2017
I still cry over my accident that happened,
The accident that happened nearly 7 years ago.
Of any gains to me, there seems no hint at all,
And of my pain, there seems no happy end.
Reason with my invisible tears I often do,
Irrecoverable damage after all that happened,
More was the damage that was consequent.

I lost my friends, I lost my career overall,
The accident did no good to me except one.
Of my family ties, it strengthened them all,
And my physical pains are long subdued.
Reason I fail to find for my lost years,
Irrecoverable is the lost love and friendship,
More is that grief of the invisible tears.
My HP Poem #1445
©Atul Kaushal
The scars of your lies cut deep
Your mistrust confuses me
Haven't we known each other for a long while now?
My soul I laid bare for you
But yours was kept cloaked from me
You're fine, you're great you say
There's absolutely nothing wrong; you can handle it
You lie to not just me but yourself too
And the damage done is *permanent
Remember you're only human. It's okay to break down sometimes
Gabriel burnS Dec 2016
And all the wars
those eyes of yours
have started,
and all the gore
blown open in the hearts
like grotesque gardens,
by beauty, battle-hardened,
yes, all of this is lost to words;
none ever cross
the lips of worlds
exhaling in the fallout
following the meltdown.
Youdont Needthis Jan 2017
Deep in wood’s twig embrace
She lies beneath the leaf tessellation
Her hollow skull and hollow chest are friends with the burning winds
She is hallowed in her sloping waist
With child

She is mother bony
Woman with skinless face
She is grinless
For her jaw was stolen in ages past
Yet she is blessed with child
Her middle is heavy with boundless boy

A boy fated
To be *******
Emperor
Tyrant
King
To be lord of the shattered lands and even their scattered men
Destined to be crowned in fragments of skulls and silky fabric reds
He shall mate with fire
Be father of arson spawn
His face will be carved in Mammon’s silver toys

He will never be forgotten by any of history’s tedious scribes
Yet first he must be born

Now the winds are chanting
They push at her pudgy waist
They are chanting for the birth of the emperor ******* king
They desire the tyrant
They are the slaves of God
For they are catalysts that mold the shapes of futures’ lords
They will sing triumphant
When he is pushed through dusty hips
They will congratulate their oldest and most silent friend  

He is birthed with great force
The spit of cadaverous womb
Crying shrieks in the forest
No one living to clean him

By spirits’ force he is taught
To eat the last of mother’s skin
To grow to be the friend of the whispering burning winds

He shall grow into great beast
With strength to wield the lance
He will enter the kingdoms of men
Appearing as a wild God

While he is shaping his role
His mother will often laugh
Ever since he left her
Her body was never again the same
It was like the shift
from noisy waves
to silent streams
that flow smoothly
over the calm chaos

The waves now have
settled to silent streams
with sunken ships
from the strong damage

-Kaya
Marilyn Sistinas Dec 2016
When did conversation become argumentation?
This form of abuse derived from self irritation,
just drives me in the opposing direction of where you'd like me to go,
there's many destinations that I haven't been shown,
cultivation leading me to venture on my own.
You push and shove for me to grow up already,
but agitation won't make it easier to speed through others lined up in front of me.
If you could just see how much I've been through,
most of it alone, if you could view just how far I've kept motivation,
then someday we might actually get close to were we've been heading this whole time.
Line after line and you have yet to add any up,
you haven't seen my determination, for you just blame it on luck.
Whim did consideration become mediation?
I've lived every waking moment, just for your approbation,
now, everything I've done is incorrect?
The treacherous miles I've overcome are now obliviation I'm your head,
every turn I make just ends up being another mistake.
Something along the lines of aggretion,
which in turn left us were we orginally started, or stopped.
You always try and take me where you want me though I've come so far already.
Sometimes the places you unexpectedly end up are where you're actually supposed to be.
AntoinetteBrandt Dec 2016
She can't deny herself any more.

She wants more than anything

to eat the heartshaped petals on the side

and swallow her liability. It's dangerous

grinding her secret garden between her teeth. Who could understand

that she covets a beautiful flower, but it's her fault she feels this way;

she compares herself to a sweet orange

when she is like a sour lemon. And then there's a dandelion.

She takes those too, to carry with her prayers

and roses. She dreams flowers will blossom

like goosebumps on her skin. She's anxious

to wear her hair down like grapevines. She feeds her

dreams to the ravens. We treat her with love

and write songs about her.

She felt it, something so beautiful growing in her stomach it ached.
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