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Sadie Oct 2018
habituated within the confines of woe
accompanied yet felt lonesome,
the mere must sets forth tomorrow,
my memorandum is no hokum.

there was more than meets the eye,
but any has felt, not just I,
dispatches of melancholy comply,
for must I say goodbye
-- for now...

seek wholesome where it was borne,
restoration is the new.
nay mourn, nor fret, nor pout
and shall come back, subdue.
Meera Oct 2018
Love her like she’s the only girl in the world.
Make her your top-most priority. When you’re awake, think of her. When you’re asleep dream of her. Drink in her beauty even if it’s venomous
Eat up all her words even if they hurt Breathe in her scent even when she’s stinking.
Let the love for her grow on you till your mind is full of her thoughts and your sketch book is full of her portraits.

Paint her scars beautifully with vibrant colors.
Get her name tattooed on your heart. When she strolls in the darkness, wander along.
When she falls down, lie down with her and stare at the night sky.
See the world through her eyes

Hold her hands when she is cold. Embrace her when she is scared.
Kiss her tears when she cries and become the reason behind her smile.


Don’t try to plaster her wounds.
Don’t try to pull her out of her miseries.
Instead, accept her the way she is- scathed and destroyed.

Be ready to kiss her good night at 3 a.m. ‘cause tormented souls like her can’t sleep earlier.

Pour all her insecurities, sorrows and grieves in a wine glass
and gulp them down in one go because that’s all she has to offer you. Emotions are like wine anyway, both get stronger with time.


Struggling with the pieces of her, you might lose your sanity.  
Loving her might be difficult, suffocating and disturbing at times but don’t give up on her so easily.


Soon, you’ll know why hurricanes are named after people.
Thanks for reading this.
Omnya0 Oct 2018
Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel stupid                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend
xpzlol Oct 2018
falling through a sinkhole
pressured to a thousand atmospheres
thoughts and words
silenced

barriers surround them
words unable to
pierce through
engulfed in darkness

series of laughter
caught by none
to them its just
.

.
.
ripped off
my soul

drunk in the rain
the salty rain that enriches the ground
pleading for death
come quick

fabrics of time
torn and tattered
fluttering in the storms
never in their eyes

trees sway to no conclusion
with an undying resolution
screeching lightning
isolation from life.
Lynn Oct 2018
tilted roses,
tilted vases &
tall titled book cases
the world is crumbling
and i'm just mumbling
to myself under thick blankets
i guess ill just sleep for a while ...
KJ Oct 2018
It’s getting bad again.
My skin is scratching, itching, burning.
I want to rake my nails down my wrist
just to relieve a little pressure.

It’s building up inside me.
I’m afraid that I’ll explode
and imbed shrapnel in those
who are closest to me.

I shy away
and leave myself alone.
Better to suffer in silence
than to make others worry.

I want to press a blade
deep into my hips.
To feel the blood bubbling up
and all my pressure-pain-panic
leaving with
each drop that flows down my thigh.

Just like old times.
things I refuse to do again but haunt my mind
Mitch Prax Oct 2018
You can’t be replaced,
it’s an impossible feat
so carry on, stranger.
It took me too long to realize
that we aren’t toys, tools,
or parts of some machine;
we exist for ourselves.
what did you come here for,
comfort or a poem?
Gabriel Gefin Oct 2018
“You mean nothing to me.”
The words escaped her mouth, her tone giddy
As her eyes sparkled the light of the city
A girl seeking fun
Where there was none
Her motives deformed by courtesy and hesitation
His own tough truth forgotten, lost in adoration
He loved her
For lack of a better word
His love was a mask to conceal his lust
His love was a way to withhold his trust
For he knew
From the moment she kissed him
That she had lost his trust before she ever got it
Which made her subtle rejection all the more anticipated
Shadow Oct 2018
How I am is
What I am
I am a sad
Soul but I
Hide it with
Masking I look
More happy cause
I am hiding what
I was I am going
To the sad days
The odd one
I am not great
I am moderate
How I am is
Not how I was
I hide things from
Myself I hide the
Pain of time
Time turns pain comes
Around an around
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