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Colleen Mary May 2015
Gosh, this silence kills me.
Call me crazy but I can perfectly hear faint whispers of all my past mistakes.
****--I keep reminding myself that my past doesn't define me.
Surely, the past that I am not fond of was a consequence of a ghost.
That ghost was and is me but not the better version of me that is attempting desperately to stop ******* up.
I am forced to live with all ghosts of myself whether I fess up to them or not.
Somebody please save me from what I am becoming, I'm so scared.
I don't know what happened-- I swear not too long ago I was a not well understood, ***** 17 year old.
Then, ugh. Man, life suddenly hits hard and it *****.
I want to go back in time- before I knew you existed, before my heart felt so heavy, before I was so bored that I would run back to anyone not to be lonely.
Speaking of loneliness: This cold, sickening late May Chicago weather makes me wish I wasn't so alone.
Seems impossible that my life is going to fall into place at this point.
Not trying to be dramatic- just don't know how to not let the people haunting me in my past affect my relationships with others I have yet to encounter.
I wish I could go back in time to my old self and hold my hand.
My last wish is impossible of course, yet I can pretend.
So here I go pretending I know everything and I'm just going to say this once and for all..............ITS OK.


I think.
Nico fuentes Apr 2015
Another bottle
Another thought
Take another shot
Well take two
No matter how many
I take I can't escape
The memory of you
I'll have another
Make this a double
Hell a triple of jack
Ignite a fire in my chest
But it's not the jack
That's causing the burn
It's the girl I'm trying to drink away
Dark Jewel Mar 2015
Clouds rolling overhead.
White puffs of smoke to me.
Laying here legs crossed.
Wondering where my soul was...

Clouds rolling overhead,
Dancing in white and out grey.
Causing flashbacks,
Flashbacks I wish weren't true.

Laying with legs crossed,
Tightening my grip on the branch above me.
Ropes hanging loosely,
Upon this hanging tree.

Scary?
Hardly...

Strange things have happened here,
Nightmares have come.
Their blasphemy!

Clouds rolling overhead,
In dark masses of grey.
Covering a sky once blue.

Laying here legs crossed,
Seeing the fire in the distance.
Of the dead forest below.

In the hanging tree...

Strange things have happened here,
No stranger would it be.
If my love and I.
Met at midnight,
Within the hanging tree.
The Hunger games had a nice reference for me to use.
Kevy Almighty Feb 2015
Please don't waste my time.
You feel me?

Don't make me feel special,
and tell me things
that you know I wanna hear,
but you don't really mean it.
You feel me?

Don't get me trip.
I mean head over heels crazy,
to the point where I'll do anything for you
if you know that you aint'  feeling the same.
You feel me?

Don't tell me that you love me.
Don't call me 'baby' or 'bae'
if I aint the only one.
You feel me?

Don't tell me that you want 'us'
If you don't understand that the concept of 'us' is 1+1
just you and I and nobody else.
You feel me?

But most importantly,
think of your loved ones.  
Would you like them to be treated the way you treat me?

Just be honest.
Don't say you can commit if you know you can't.
Don't break someone because of your issues.
You feel me?
Moral: Treat people the way you want to be treated.
Psychotic Poet Jan 2015
O' stranger of night, you intrigue me.
          Night by night, I listen to your symphony.

Fingers on the string, you play on and on,
         until the twilight break of the dawn.

Your passion for music never quenches,
          it is deeper than the deepest trenches.

Monsoon, winter, autumn or summer,
          you hum like a sweet bird hummer.

I listen to thee, day and night,
          if you stop, I pine for your voice's light.

Its not love, its not lust,
          its a passion for thee, understanding this is a must.

Words flow like a stream when I think of you,
          to me, your music of strings is as silent as a coo.

The music you make is like a prayer to me,
          being blind doesn't deter the spirit of your symphony.
                                                                        
                                                                               -PSYCHOTIC POET
Kate Lion Nov 2014
i dangle my feet over the edge of hell.
i'll never do it,
but i wonder if i will ever be able to braid my hair by myself
tie my shoes
smile like a two year-old who thinks cookies are the purpose of having teeth and a tongue

if i search in darkness, i will surely find despair
and there is a cellphone light glowing in my face
as i write this
so i should pursue this happiness
this temporary thrill i get from internet existence
My place in the world,
Small, fleeting,
Stressful, insignificant,
Oh, but blissful, rewarding,
Earning your keep,
Meeting your goals,
Dealing with people,
Getting better every day,
Mastering your craft,
Oh the paycheck ain't great,
And I don't have a fancy education,
Nothing a book could teach me,
Or a teacher lecture me,
That could reach my core,
And fill the emptiness,
So I left.
And, now, like every American,
I fell down at some point but,
Yes, I'm Free!
Yes I'm finding what it means to,
Pursue being happy,
And I hate that you don't wanna be here,
I hate that you don't want to support me,
I hate that my journey takes me,
Far away from you,
I hate that, you look down upon me,
With half-fond memories, stained by,
All the hasbeens and could beens,
And almost was's that we were,
That maybe if I'd just never fell,
Maybe if I hadn't wasted that year,
Maybe if I hadn't needed you so much,
In the worst of ways,
Oh my if I had just stayed the way I was,
For a few years longer,
Your ghost wouldn't be here haunting,
Scathing, judging, from so far,
so near.
I need an exorcist, darlin,
you are my demon, you are my fear,
you are my nightmare, my everywhere.
I hate that I met you, that I loved you so,
To this day, pathetically, you are the,
one piece of my life that,
will always be,
missing.
s Dec 2014
My mind is exploding.
I have so much in my head.
This oxygen, I'm breathing, I'm surviving.
I'm killing time.
I'm killing my thoughts.
I need less.
I need less of me.
I need less ideas.
I'm fighting my head.
It's a literal war.
The sad thing is that
I don't think I'm winning.
In every moment
There is a forever
In every second
There is eternity
You will live eternally
In this moment
I have to write this because I don't live as long as you humans
I'm just listening to Counting Crows,
and I get this feeling,
That I am so close to understanding,
Something, myself? Something.
And it leads to this eerie feeling of contentedness,
In the darkness.
But I'm just a step behind,
And the more I think, the more...
I lose my way, The more I question,
instead of listen.
But it scares me to let such a moment pass,
without pursuing... it.
Whatever it is.
Poetry? I think not,
Just splutter along the road of my soul.
Sure to be meaningless in the end, but,
Looking at it now, looking back a bit...
Oh to be **** half in the past,
And nirvana just out there,
A bit further along the way.
Almost childly, I blindly,
Reach my hand out and up,
Hoping that I'll be able to grasp the Sun,
As if I won't get burnt,
That since it seems so close,
I just need to grasp,
and the world will be mine.
But some things are not for mortals.
And demons, like kids,
Must too, one day,
Wake up.
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