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Peculiar Sep 2018
Scorn at honesty
Sprint to deceit
Is it hard to accept reality?

Believe lies told by others
Build your delusive perception
For your mind will downfall not knowing all

Accept others assumptions
Therein they know all , do they not?

Submit your mind onto falsehood
As you distract yourself from reality
The unrevealing truth

I have spoken authenticity
You hear the toxicity

So let your mind wander
Around myth and deformity,
Around what I am not
For you are your own destruction
As you let your mind cloud with rage and resentment
Others will always have a perception of you that is not true , no matter how many times you explain yourself they go believe lies and dishonest opinions . they build an image of you which is not true , and it does hurt to see people you care about , carry an toxic image of you that is not true via i wrote this poem .
Peculiar Sep 2018
I bear witness to the lies
As they roll off the blackened tongue
The forged talk

I bear witness to the distortion
The talk of slander while accompanied with others
O’ LORD GOD do they not observe the deception?
Instead they accept illusive perception
O’ LORD GOD protect the ears of those who listen!

I bear witness to the dishonesty
Satan Forbid those who speak lies to accept
Instead they hide behind a mask of phony
Scamper towards shelter made of baloney

May all be forgiven to those who lie
Those disguised authentic
Are all hypocrites
Forgive them LORD ALL MIGHTY

May all be forgiven to those who listen
Ears perked as the whispers utter
Credulous minds
Gullible ears
Forgive them LORD ALL MIGHY

Save them all from the shackles
Release the bounds
AMEN we say AMEN!
This poem takes the form of a prayer concerning liars who hurt others
moon child Sep 2018
I can't do this anymore.
What kind of life is this?

I'm a secret.
A ***** disgusting
Pointless secret.

Who cares if I whisper this mess
In their ear.
To cup my hands 'round the side of their face
And expose myself to them.

No one wants to hear about the hamster wheel spinning round and round in my head.
The tap tap tap of anxious could be's and angry could have been's.
Disappointment chain smokes out my arteries and throws the simmering cigarette butts into the pit of my stomach.
Hoping to start a flame.
To burn me up.
Inside out.

That's not a pretty story.
Not a fairy tale.
People want happy poems or depressing fables.
Ones that they don't have to look in the eyes afterward.

I have no interest in sharing doubts that gnaw away at my fingertips or the fears that grind my teeth.

Everything is fine
Is fine
Just
Like
This.
Just leave it.
Leave it alone.

It will go away
Or it will **** me yet.
No need.
Kellin Sep 2018
i can’t tell if i’m
broken or not.
am i okay?
is thinking of ending myself
just a reflex
as this point?
a coping mechanism
that fills the space
that the absence of sadness
leaves blank.
do i want to die,
or do i simply
want to sleep?
am i just tired?
overreacting?
depressed?
did i finally crack and spill over?
am i empty now?
Lauren Bloss Sep 2018
Her eyes were laced,
Laced with pure gold,
Shimmering in the moonlight rays,
So elegantly beauteous in the night,

Her smile shined,
Shined brighter than all the stars in the sky above,
Seeming so real,
Yet it was painted on by an angel,
An angel who wished to hide the demons,
The demons within her,

Her voice hints of mischievous,
Of uncertainty and of mystery,
So soft,
Yet so cracked,

Her thoughts blackened of smoke,
Smoke that poisoned her every waking thought,
Smoke that was so lethal,
So suffocating,
She couldn't take a breath,

Yet those demons,
And those angels,
Hide in the darkness beneath,

Her eyelashes were lengthy,
They blinked in the rhythm of her,
They fluttered as she blinked at me,

As the daylight swooshed in,
The light of honesty showed,
Her eyes no longer laced with gold,
Now they were purely dark,
Purely dull, no shimmer to be seen,

Her smile had washed away,
Her cracked frown now prominent,
Prominent on her exhausted face,

Her voice was full of anxiety,
Hoarse from the fight she's giving,
Soft, yet dark,

Her thoughts were as silent as she,
As silent as she wished to be,
For the pain overtook her,
Held her entire life hostage,

Her mind was the prison,
And she was the inmate,
Paying for the guilt she lived in,
Every second of every day,
Costing her the privilege,
The privilege of happiness,

And so,
In the moonlight,
Try and look harder,
For you may see the pain.
Brandon Brazel Sep 2018
Why do I let you mess with my head?
I’m always laying here clueless in bed.
Trying to think of things I can shred like Zed,
But we know it’s fiction,
That Pulp said he’s dead.
Maybe I should chill,
Pop another med,
But now I’m letting something else put me back in my head.
I’m stranded, lonely, I only know to put paper to lead.
To sum it up,
You ****** me,
Nuff said.
I have nothing to Else to say.
Melo Sep 2018
My vision is fading
My mind has been slipping
I fear it is over
My time with the living

You can't expect me to take it
I held you on my back and you broke it
My finger on the trigger I might pull it
My brains on the wall would be a sight wouldn't it

At least the pain would stop
I'd be free from the feeling
I just wanted to make it to the top
You loved to be my ceiling

No turning back now
Music blaring too loud
Speed hitting 200
Soon I'll be in the clouds

Would you care then?
Tell everyone you were my friend?
Say you wish you were there in the end?
I wish you were there in the end.
Furey Aug 2018
I have been here and alone I sit
New places, new people
Alone
That is how I feel
I have had to move on
Alone
Here I am and I have nothing
I stand so afraid
Alone
Armand-DeamoJC Aug 2018
I wonder if death is the pen
in the story of my life
and that life is the paper
like the canvas of an artist
I wonder if the pen burst
or if I have a creative author
I wonder and wish even more
that my paper can just end
and my story can be published
in your library of life
I wish, oh I wish
the paper will befriend the pen
like the beauty tamed the beast
and the sugar of sin held him tight
To my great friend Duncan, I'll miss you buddy. He's grown very sick, with an unknown disease yet, but chances are slim
Alysia Marie Aug 2018
Yes
I still wake up
in the middle of the night
reaching for a body
that just isn’t there

Just as I did now
and just as I will tomorrow
as well as every night that follows
in which I’m left here alone
without you


Alysia Marie 2018 ©
I suppose my loneliest thoughts arrive at 1am.
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