Your scars appear on her skin
From the night u belittled one
She screams at what was left within
Its all just a war, that cant be won

I stare and scream at what you did
And notice you cant hear her
I stand over you as you bled
And I'm just looking in a mirror...
We all have battles in ourselfs that leave us alone, crying, and dead
Stars shine bright
But wonder,
Death hath their plight.
12.08.2018
Those dead stars. Plus, death is inevitable no matter who you are.
Tharuki 1d
"The cigarette,
is a metaphor
they don't kill you
unless you light them
and I've never lit one,
you put the killing thing
between your teeth
but you don't give it the power
to do the killing"
-Augustus Waters
-
You see the knife
is a metaphor too
as it touches your skin
and you feel the pain
as it slices through
but it never goes deep enough
to kill you
10 pm
wine
on a slow night
slouch at home
lounge
with the ice queen
on her sofa of a throne
Hulu on
Playstation
Lifestylists who
make first place
in a first world race
between
every peasant
with a hopeful
heart in a hand
waiting like a good girl,
waiting for a buyer
to whom to sell control,
GAWD bless a market,
reciprocal.
2 am
having cum for fun,
lover sleeping
in a one bedroom
bathtub living room
bathed in blue light,
soaking up cancer like it's destiny.
Guess what! I'm depressed as fuck.
Eat my medicine. Vitamin soup.
Fought fate for years, but
have since dismissed my fears.
THIS IS WHAT I AM,
wrote Nick13, in The Valley of Dreams.
I am what some might refer to as "zen"
Unfrozen, true enough to do
right by myself as I always should.
So, am I depressed?
Yeah,
but
I'm
good.
Wake. Eat.
I piss. I shit.
I toil. I play.
I sleep.
& I repeat it.
I repeat it.
&
if I had the choice,
I'd repeat it,
and I'd die, because I
fit just right as a future corpse
in the land of the living dead.
Seize it.
Believe it.
It feels like my head
Just swallowed me whole.
And I’m falling to pieces
In a room full of gold.
Jagged knife teeth
Cut through my head.
Megaphones blast in my ears
Screaming nonsense.
Until I’m frothing on the ground.
Cold on the inside,
Bleeding on the surface.
Dead.

It feels like my arms
Are strangling me.
Raised off a balcony
Before plummeting off.
Descending through the ground
But my body still above.
My spirit is below,
Finally free.
But my body lays cold,
Bleeding out,
Dead.

It feels like my world
Has crumbled around me.
But everyone floats,
Finally free.
But me I fall,
Down into the nothing.
Where I plummet forever.
But at least I’m not cold...
Or bleeding...
Or dead...
With my mind filled with images of her
I find the courage to fill the emptiness deep inside my bones
Vulnerability has always scared the shit out of me
Doubt continuously dresses my body in its water logged clothes
April 5d
Put guns into the hands of children
Put bullets through their hearts
Soldiers killed before the war’s begun
those who were to carry tomorrow’s flag
Lie buried beneath their elder’s feet
How many lives in the name
Of justice,
Revenge,
Or greed?

The future dies with each of them.
Bobcat 5d
Tell me again how fire is dangerous
As you're standing there playing with matches
You strike the sulfur that would ultimately end us

You beg me not to leave but you push me away
I never know what you'll be feeling today
Tell me how you love me but cause me dismay

I know that you're trying I see it in your eyes
The first time I learned not only your mouth can tell lies
Say I give you life but you're already dead inside

You never hit me so I can thank you for that
Instead it was my mental state you attacked
I'd much rather you make both my eyes black

As I walked out you stood in the doorway crying
I probably would have stayed if I wasn't the only one trying
I hope next in line soon finds out they'll be dying.
Billie 6d
When I die, hang my rib cage from a tree.
Many birds have lived inside me,
new life forming in the heart of death.
Loss feels like a sentence half written,
without a full stop.
It doesn’t have a nice,
neat end to it,
it happens in the middle
of a sentence,
and sometimes those sentences are never written at all.

I feel like my death will be stubborn.
It’ll be from my own years of mistreatment on this body that has so far served me well,
and if I don’t go at 3am while the world is loading then something is off.
Maybe it’s just me that sees the time that way,
a period where the world stops and blurs with a different,
far off star,
before reverting back to the norm.
But normal does exist at 3am for some.
Other people exist at 3am,
laughing
and walking
and breathing
and crying
and being human,
wandering the empty streets with their arms outstretched,
running through the rain after a lost love like a bad movie,
other people are their own protagonists and are alive even when you don’t notice.

When I die, float me on top of a swimming pool.
I’ve always felt false under the water,
like my body never existed in the first place,
I try to stay deathly still so I won’t cause any ripples
and it never works.
Finally my carcass will be able to complete one of my goals,
achieve something mindless as my brain separates from the rest
and sinks to the bottom,
my fingers grazing the surface tension,
one toe dipping in first to check the temperature
before it all finally collapses
and joins that drowned mind at the bottom,
the place I used to find so soothing.

I believe in a lot of things.
I believe in love,
I believe in you,
I believe in life.
I believe in the fact that the sun will rise in the morning
and I am to continue living and loving,
even when it’s hard.
Even when I am broken down into nothing and resurrected,
even when my hands look more like a piece of throwaway paper than this skin,
this world was built for the living,
and I am allowing myself no escape.

When I die, bury me in your bedroom.
Drape me in sheets that smell a little too familiar,
tuck my hair behind my ear one last time
and know that even gone,
I’m still here,
and I still love you.
Sleep beside me,
the feeling of your breath on my cheek contrasted by the lack of mine,
don’t let me sleep alone.
Don’t let me die for a long time.
Until we’re both old and grey,
still surrounded by our love for each other
and comforted by that sun that still rises,
out my window I can see the birch tree my ribs would dangle from in the snow,
hear the ravens song of creaks as they take up nest,
the gurgling of water,
the scent of you still infused in these sheets,
my love,
don’t let me go.

I promise to love you until my dying day,
which will come many centuries from now,
once all my poems have been burned
and there is no one left to read them,
don’t let me go before then.
And I promise to hold you in my heart until it melts.
Until these bones turn to dust,
I promise to love you.
Because you do the same.
Next page