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Sylph 10h
It funny
The weird positions that your bad choices
put you in

Im dead
but
at the same time
Im slightly more alive

Almost found
yet still completely lost

no one can save me from the depths of darkness
that eat me alive
And it will
until im reunited with the life
I wanted
and I made
Life *****.
i had found what i wanted
i was finally happy
life finally felt right
and yet
somehow
the world says its wrong
maybe we loved each other
most in the fall
because much like us
the flowers were dying
Soumia 3d
Help me,
I'm crying myself to sleep
I think of you before I go to bed.

It makes me sad that your not around anymore.
20 years have passed, but I still feel the emptiness.

Help me, please
Soumia Oct 12
No eyes can see my tears,
no ears can hear me crying,
all I have is you but where have you gone?
Ackerrman Oct 11
Faded as that 90’s graffiti on the train station walls,
Old locomotives, their engines cease to spin and sputter.
Little mice, too famished in their task, caress cogs and messages,
From places, too dark to read, the notes pile up.
Some, I think, may be blank.
Some, I could not read, as I scribbled those promises too fast.
A great mound of empty words made from a tree now dead.
The cogs move no more, I doubt they were ever connected before…


In line for a one-way ticket out of this grave land,
My baggage gripped tight with both hands- makes it difficult to keep in check,
I try to hide it with a smile, no one offers to help.
Surprisingly sullen, my every movement seems to echo from bold, cold walls,
The insignia behind the ticket master’s house is sprayed in red and it reads:
‘This was always a one-way trip’
I bite my lip, try to understand how to turn menace into sand,
This station is run by ghosts. I can feel them watching from holes in the wall.


I was asked by a stranger, “why did you come here”,
My staggered recoil from justice and reason must have been enough,
When I looked back, my persecutor was lost to an empty hall,
And the bones of this room can be seen when it breathes,
So clear, not seen the sun shine in a long time,
Startled like a bird falling into a pool, I wonder why I came here at all.


I talk to the ticket officer, this hat worn low, talking from a dark place,
I want to know, “the time of the next train please”,
But the man only holds my gaze, from beneath his low cap
Motionless, the spindly man holds all the cards, then blows away into the wind.
Left his own station in search of tracks. Somewhere remote
The sun is shining, and life is dead upon this new day.


Perhaps it is too early, I sit and wait for someone to talk to,
“You know that bag must be awfully heavy, please let me carry it for you”,
I shake my head and grip what is mine a little tighter,
“Don’t be afraid to let me in, I only want to help you free your light”,
But I don’t care for skin or bones, I set down my bag and watch,
The man of bones, with dreams larger than his stake,
Perhaps, if you were not so far away, you would have the strength to exist,
I look up to see the man who tried so frugally,
Met by dead air, perfectly comfortable- without a friend in the world.


I take a stroll down the decrepit tracks, cold air grasps at skin and sense,
Just to see the colour of the rust, and what the reaction was,
The trains and tracks are turning bitter-brown and discoloured purple,
Holes are manifesting themselves into the carriage, much less comfortable than I ever knew.
I step on the dead cartridge, much less comfortable than I ever-
Reliving a time when the carriage was bright, and laughter echoed the halls,
Far down the musky, dark-grey scope, I can hear the faint sobs of a child,
Inevitably, I find the kid, small and frail, sobbing into his hands from under his hat.


“Dear Michael, this carcass is the last place that I expected to find you”,
I kneel down beside the boy and tell him what comes from inside”
“You didn’t spend much time here when we were alive, I am leaving you Michael, your world is cold and dead”.
The boy trembles before sobbing turns to cold laughter,
He lifts his head and I peer into two dark and empty sockets,
Pristine, white bones contrast the encroaching darkness,
Michael tells me: “There is no leaving this place”.


The skeleton child’s words are empty.


A little while down the track, darkness pours from every crack,
Each train looks as dead as the one that was mine,
I follow a trail of disfunction to the end of the line,
Where I find a train, most unlike the rest, its silky black skin has been kept intact,
Monstrous, foreboding and intimidating, the conductor keeps the fire stoked,
Red mist puffs from the window, horror stagnant beauty feels and flows.


The walls of the carriage are meticulously decorated,
Framed pictures resting on crimson silk, a life frozen in time,
I am not welcome here,
Presently, a feral scream from far away- the engine room,
A mad man armed with fire eyed fury,
Jackal Rushes through moment and memory in fear and panic,
The first thing in this nightmare clad in skin,
The man stands still, full height, coloured in… I look into his eyes:


I fall back through twisted carriages.
Light.
Butterflies protecting fire from rain.
I sleep safe knowing that no one thinks of me.
I am writing a book. One day a character wanted to say something...
Isaac Ward Oct 11
I'm living in a house without electricity-
This city could have been so pretty,
Grass and trees and leaves and bees-
Now it's become gritty,

Concrete dreams and pipes and steam-
Steel beams: at night they gleam,
And a scream, what could it mean-
Another life torn apart at the seams,

A body, broadly speaking-
Left to rot and reeking,
The people peaking out their curtains, meek and-
The police chief got no sleep this weekend,

I'm living in a house without water-
My daughter's missing- 6 o'clock news fodder,
Dead and cold maggots and mold-
She was just a toddler,

Blood, dirt and mud-
Not soap nor suds, I'll need a flood,
To wash way this god-
Forsaken rug before my ****** mug,

A family- no longer,
Leave the song here,
We're gone or goners-
Born in April, now May is dawning.
Nylee Oct 9
So far,
I have reached here
The path ahead have dead ends
Let's go off road
.
malluraeh Oct 7
do what you want
opinions, won't be there after
you are dead
m h John Oct 5
i attempted to cry for you
because i was always taught
that if you add water
to a dead flower
it could come back to life
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