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He wept for her bleeding heart
when she had no more tears to shed.
She fought with all her might
to save him from his demons.
He waived his morals for her freedom.
She waived hers for his.
The ransom was their lives.
The bet was their love.
Until they didn't have anything left
but memories of what once was,
what could have been, what it should be.
Do you fear me yet, sweet one?
I manifest my horror as tender touches
and soothing pet names. They say something
about killing them with kindness,
but love ends lives so much more smoothly.
Each scratch of a fingernail adds to your unease.
Every "darling" called from the backroom
causes you to cringe. But you won't say a word,
will you? Because this is a fate you chose.
You like my cold arms wrapped--
so boa constrictor tight--
around you that there is no room
for another set. Each time you leave
you are tortured by the thought of me,
laid out in the darkness awaiting your return.
Like an unforgiving dog. But it is you
who cries when we are apart, soothed
only by my talons, which hold you tightly,
but are careful not to cut too deep.
Abandonment has made him looking for clues,
Fear to love and lose evolved into Pistanthrophobia...

The numbness and hollowness he felt in his aching heart,
Feeling like a dead corpse, going through analgia...

Facing his share of heartbreaks, been easily replaced,
His heart wishes nothing but to suffer from amnesia...

He now sits in the dark corner, battling his inner demons,
Thinking of the spent moments, going through nostalgia...
After all those years
I've found a voice
from within the
poems I
A voice for all those
who suffer afraid
to speak
For fear of reprisal
from there abusers
as I was
If you can find a way
speak then don't
suffer In
Nearly 65 years old
when I finally faced
my Demons did so
through the poems
I write
Abused as kid took me nearly 60 years to
face my demons did so through the poems I write
my optimism is a curse,
a demon that tricks me
into dreaming the impossible-

i fall for it every time
Fighting my demons are always hard
For they have a poet's mind
That lured me in their metaphors
of the taste of the sun
or the comfort of solitude;
They pull me in between their lines
of desperation and depression
As if basking in the sunlight
will make it feel less empty;
They tangle me in the swirl of the words
Embracing me with each broken
thorn of a flower
or every drizzle of the rain
or the feel of the breeze
As if those imagery
will make it less painful;
They envelope me with every space
in between their words
as if letting me breathe
but then they enter
cutting the peace in between letters
but never putting a period
to end this miserable excuse for a poem
they made me

Then suddenly pressing save
for all the world to see
without even really
saving me
Demons are just FALLEN ANGELS
They fell
From HEAVEN to ****,
And unlike angels,
DEMONS have a STORY to tell.
Good and evil.
It's just two sides of the same coin.
Dani 4d
I don't turn my back, I stare them in the face.
Like a shadow follows its host in the spotlight of the moon in the most quiet time of night.
Following, lurking, staring. They, the infamous they.
There is no name, there are no words known to me to tell you what they are. What they do. How they taunt me.
They stand near me, whispering, screaming, begging me to come.
I cannot run or hide for they are with me wherever I go.
In my happiness they laugh, knowing they'll tear me down, knowing it won't last.
They scream for help as if I am their savior. It makes me want to go to them, hold them like a child covered in darkness, but their blood covers me, it blinds me. Are they real?
Why do they need me? I ask why? Why did they choose me?
How can I possible join them? Can I? should I try? If I do does that make my heart dark too?
I am afraid to go to them, but they call me. They stay with me.
All my joys tainted by their shadows.
Are they a part of me? How do I cut them out of my head, out of my heart? I can't breathe, at least I don't think I can, yet I am here with air in my lungs. How do I make it stop?
How do I cut them out of myself, stop the whispers, the screams, the begging, the darkness? How do I tell someone? How do I explain this without getting put away?
Written during an anxiety attack.
stop it!
why do you try to ruin everything?
InsertPenName Oct 27
We are a bit crazy
lazy in our endeavours
A bit hazy by breathing the air that we don't get to share with you
We're holding our breath
We're a bit obsessed and observing the outcome of our rougish reactions to the words we don't get to hear from you
So here we'll sit quietly
We're a bit childish in our affections and having the low immunity to your laughs we've caught the infection of fluff
We assure you that the blush is from the fever
We're a bit dramatic in our words
A bit avarage in our rage
Searching for the focal point we know we won't find now matter how we inked a blank page
We hope you find use, we sit just outside your sight but...
We're a bit too much of us and too little of you for our comfort
We're everything that you don't desire
While we need you... like we need music
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