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Oliver Feb 1
A fire in my veins, it burns and spreads,
No solace found, my pain instead.
It courses through me, an unseen dread,
My heart beats hindered, slow and dead.

I gasp for air, my breath a plea,
To regulate, find sanctuary.
Isolation's grip, it smothers me,
Abandoned here, in misery.

The spreading burn, a growing blight,
My center bleeds, devoid of light.
Rot consumes me, without a doubt,
From inside out, it spills about.

My vision blurs, my words a mess,
Organs churn, enduring stress.
A fleeting glance, at moments past,
Life lived too fast, it couldn't last.

The forecast grim, my future bleak,
A question haunts, my soul to seek:
Was it all worth this fleeting chase?
I shunned the breaks, embraced the race.

Lost in the maze, of fleeting fears,
My peers' applause, drowned out my tears.
Exhausted, striving, never to stand out,
My grotesque form, a silent shout.

"Leave me," I begged, a final plea,
But now the burn consumes, sets me free.
I forgot I wrote this, I do remember I took heavy inspiration from the song Rotting by Sushi Soucy & Jada Valencia.
Oliver Feb 1
I frolic among ruins, my own creation
I dance with enemies long dead
Their ghosts still whisper condemnation,
I laugh at words unsaid.

A crown of thorns, a throne of dust,
I rule the wreckage with delight.
Let them curse me if they must—
Their shattered bones are quite the sight.

I tip the scales, I rig the game,
I drink the venom, wear the blame.
What fun is virtue, meek and hollow,
When sin is sweeter to swallow?

I set the fire, I stoked the blaze,
Watched it burn with a gilded gaze.
Regret’s a game for fools to play—
I’d raze it all again today.

What joy it is to know damnation
And still refuse to change or stand,
To greet the flames with exultation,
A willing fate at my own hand.
I wanted to write a poem but couldn't think what to write about I found a prompt and it was a sinner's Eulogy. I don't particularly like religious themes. I made the character the poem is about/ in the prospective of, just an awful and terrible person. They know that they aren't a good person. They just don't care. They are unapologetic and they find happiness in being a bad person.

Also I have a lot of trouble saying the word Exultation. Its a new word for me so for those who don't know it means a feeling of triumph or rejoicing.
In the tapestry of life, we weave,
Threads of moments, hearts that grieve.
Many have died,
Leaving parts of themselves behind.

In the quiet whispers of the night,
Their essence lingers, soft and light.
More felt and understood, we find,
These moments shared, heart and mind.

With you, the veil of time does part,
Revealing truths within the heart.
Together, we embrace the past,
And find the love that ever lasts.

So let us cherish every breath,
For in each moment, life and death.
In the presence of a kindred soul,
We find the pieces that make us whole.
Our shared experiences of love and loss bring us all closer together.
maxx Dec 2024
envy is a strange thing
i scrolled through
the life of a boy
i had never known,
watched the love
pour over him
like flowers on a grave,
watched the silence
turn to screams
of “i miss you”
& “why did you leave?”

& i thought,
what would they say
about me?
would their silence
finally break?
would their love
finally bloom?

but then i realized—
he is not here
to feel it,
to hear it,
to carry it.
& i—
i am still here.
& if i am still here,
there is still time
to teach them
how to love me
while i am alive.

—stay, even if the love feels quiet.
im learning to love being alive. but sometimes, i envy the dead
How many,
Many more parties.
Before the floor gives out,
From underneath my feet.
How many more suits,
And conversation pieces.
Before the weight of the jewels,
Drags me under earth.
I'm sick of waltzing,
My feet are tired.
Bring me back home,
I don't want to be here anymore.
Happy Sunday everybody! Hope it's a great one. :)
I beg and churn and oft dream,
I crave and long from all in my being,
All that is scattered all that is seen,
All that is bound to decay,
All to stumble back in your way,
Frivolous being am I to sight,
Everything I am doesn't fit right,
18 years to build this mould,
That replicates what is foretold,
A venture in this soul,
Had me realise it is dead,has no goal,
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
I am amazed more
and more
how much the mind can be stuck
in slavery
to thoughts.

I am less afraid of people
who commit suicide.
Suffering is so intense.
It makes me think of how
low our minds can take us
down to where
we feel we
might drown.  

No one, not one person
is to blame for
suicide.
There should be no anger,
no shame.
Be real in life.
Do not shelter shame
as if it is a friend,
a payback,
or a way of life.

Shame is as deep as
******
is the devil.
Deep in an inkwell
Black tar stuck in
the pits searching
for free skies
for air
the soul is not for sell.

And it can come to this.....

Dead Enders

Places we have been to
Places we compare to
Travel light-years
In circles around us
Overtime
Around and around we go
Spiraling through the
self-disparaging
Thoughts we hack ourselves into.

Until,  Sense-less
Dead enders.
So, unthread,
Un  thread,
Un      thread.
Unwind
Before your prospects
Leave this space.

Around and around
we go
Transcenders
Looking out, looking up
and
Down
Sinking
Please me here
Take from there
Give to him always
Without a dare
Sunk and done
Dead end right here.
Writings after my sons suffering from addiction.
Morgan Howard Dec 2024
The Smiling Man smiles day after day
Hardly getting any sleep
When night falls in his bed he'll lay
And he then begins to weep

Most days there's no life in his eyes.
No words on his tongue.
No thoughts in his mind.
No breath in his lungs.

He is but a mere carcass
Of what once was
His body is cold and lifeless
Flies swarm around him in an annoying buzz

His limbs are stiff
And so is his face
That smile still on his lips
His body stuck in one place

But when the sun falls
He begins to cry
His sobs echo through the halls
As he questions "Why?"

For despite his smile
He is not happy
Instead he feels vile
And his vision is blurry

The Smiling Man smiles day after day
Perhaps it is for the best
For it must always be this way
Even after his inevitable death
Based on a drawing that I did a while ago
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