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OpenWorldView Feb 28
mental asylum
shielding snowflake fantasies
from reality
Anya Sep 2018
I do think someone who adamantly denies themselves would
Possibly write a poem judging others for reading
Their poem
But wouldn’t that be denying others
Not them?
out of everyone
it could've been anyone
but i was chosen for this task that no one wants.
as i walk to the door
i wonder why
as i turn the ****
i wonder why
as the dreaded creak means my entrance is now
i wonder

dragged in here
i float
as i hear people scream
defending their side
i just can't decide
but maybe they aren't screaming
i think that might be me
because of the pain it brings
when they pull me in their opposite directions..
until i fall apart
but i was never really together.

raw in pieces
they keep giving me evidence
to prove that they are right
right about me

i guess i'm the guest
that doesn't want to be here
but they sure feel like unwanted guests
inside my head.

"she's a girl"
"he's a boy"
"because of this"
"because of that"
this can't be true
that can't be true

i'm just an observer
in this court room
but then why am i in the center?

i'm was picked at random,
the chosen one
and i really wish i wasn't.
Terry Collett Oct 2016
Is it true Socrates
was a decadent
and Plato and such
followed his footsteps?
The old guy said,

I didn't know
so just shrugged
my young shoulders,

vita negatores
the old guy muttered,

he lit his cigarette
and sat back
in his chair,

the whole
of Christian philosophy
is of that ilk he said,

I thought of Natanya
undressed in that
London hotel room
saying I am all yours
to devour
soft fruits and all,

only the Jews
had a life affirmation
the old guy went on
in between puffs
of his ***
della vita he said,

Natanya embraced me
her arms drawing me
closer into her fruits
and her garden
and I her Adam,

when you die
the old guy said
hold tight to your
last breath as a gesture
of affirmation of life
don't be
a Socrates type,

I nodded
and the memory
of Natanya
and I was sitting there
with the old guy
bored to ****
as I feared.
Sarah M Gillihan Dec 2014
Come fix my  soul

It’s dark inside

The pain cuts deep

It’s hard to hide

Behind this mask

I’ve tried so hard

But I look within

And I’m still scarred

My arms bleed red

My eyes still sting

From dried up tears

And suffering

Come fix my soul

It’s dark inside

I cannot handle

How much I’ve cried

You say you care

Yet I still deny

No matter how many

Times you try

I can’t believe

In what you see

Cause all I see

Is filth in me

Come fix my soul

It’s dark inside

I’m still alive

Yet I feel I’ve died

I’m dying

I’m dying

I’m dying

I’m dead

From all the demons

Inside my head

Bring back my soul

Cause I have died

You might fail

But at least you tried
I feel so alone.

— The End —