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Zelyn May 2020
Was she desperate?
Like a fragile glass her heart is,
So transparent of what she feels,
She feels like she was...
In a wide landscape of forlorn,
Holding a rose with full of thorns,
Looking for diamonds in the dirt,
Lost in an aesthetic place where she never fits.

She was hurt but she adored him,
She have learned to love the pain,
After all, she has felt pain greater than love in her life.

Blindfolded with rejections and lack of appreciation,
But still she chose to stay.

Was she desperate?
She was.
I really find it hard to think of a title. Thank you @themisunderstood for helping me again!
Nomkhumbulwa Apr 2020
It doesn't come as a surprise,
Of course life’s always a struggle;
But with Coronavirus too,
The struggle is only more real.

Suffering is not new,
Nor hunger, or poverty;
Yet more than ever
People now see the reality.

Coronavirus not the biggest risk,
yet its presence here is still deadly;
With an Economy crumbling to pieces,
We all wonder what will happen to this Country?

Though numbers are low,
Compared to the first World,
Collateral damage is devastating,
With the lockdown, the situation deteriorating.

We sit here, we wait,
Watch the news at nine,
For its impossible here
To be online all the time.

Some people are scared,
Some people don't care;
Or perhaps its more a case
Of being used to living in fear.

Queues are miles long,
Yet these people are lucky;
For many there is now dire hunger,
Food parcels not reaching the poor.

The Government is doing its best,
To limit the effects of this virus,
On the health of society,
But perhaps more, on the dying economy.

Inequalities are not new,
But now they are stark and real;
The rich minority at relative ease,
The rest of the Country diseased…

People die here all the time,
The health system stretched as it is;
So how do we tell these people,
They need to go hungry to live?

With untreated disease already a burden,
Coronavirus alone is not such a risk;
But what it does do
Is creates yet more poverty and sick.

People are trying to understand
What is happening in the World;
But for most the World is far…
That World is now affecting this World…

For us, neither rich or poor,
A rare case of “in the middle;,
We are able to grow vegetables,
Write music, get to the clinic.

We also watch in horror
At those suffering now even more,
For those in informal settlements,
Social distancing is just not possible.

People are going without,
Trying to live on one meal a day;
Or going to bed hungry,
Feeding their children instead, as they continue to pray.

People here live day by day,
Earning just enough to buy bread;
With this now taken away,
They’re desperate, and some are dead.

Not due to this virus,
But death still continues;
Beaten to death by the Army,
At home, with their families….

The situation here is dire,
This Country far from developed;
The poverty, the hunger, the desperate,
No water in taps in some districts.

The situation here is dire,
I cannot lie or pretend it’ll all be fine;
people are suffering all around me
And yet all I can do is …..stay at home.

I sit here writing this helpless,
Able to teach, if it was possible for those to learn;
I feel the desperation of parents,
Education in this land must go on.

But as for now
We are either “stopped in time”, or desperate;
How the schools will eventually cope
Is anyones guess.

People need food,
People need school,
people need help,
But…..people have not lost hope.

As for myself
I write, and I plan some more;
Hoping that one day soon,
I’ll be able to help a lot more….

……Nomkhumbulwa…….
Apologies im still new ;)
Shannon Delaney Apr 2020
-
my heart has always been bigger than my mouth
begging for mouthfuls of affection when all I can manage to swallow are nibbles
this was supposed to be a play on your eyes being bigger than your stomach but it really doesn't make sense. i still published it anyways oops
TheWitheredSoul Apr 2020
My diary says the stories and words that i never had the courage to say but these words are always gonna remain the way they were meant to be ...

Untold.
LC Apr 2020
she yells from the bottom of a well,
thinking someone will hear her.
no one does, so she climbs.

as she's climbing, she hears a voice
that voice sends her tumbling
toward the bottom of the well.

she yells until she can't anymore
bursts into tears, curls up into a ball -
and desperately wants to be heard.
#escapril2020 day 3!
Patrick Harrison Mar 2020
Imagine,
                   writing simply, or rather simply for yourself.
It's a bold move to pretend to be someone else.
                     and I hope that the first draft is as bad, as it could get.
But the demon in my veins tells me that it's just begun so.

I don't care if you take your time, just listen to me, just remember me.
I don't care if it hurts a little while, just listen to me, just listen please.

Because I can't hear you when you talk to me,
I have so much I need to tell you please-
listen to me. I can't wait to be heard, I need to be heard.

Something in my head hurts-   it needs to know where to start-
to take over your heart, with every boring line about the stars.
They show me what these writers really are:

Just fools afraid of death, afraid of love that leaves and life that bleeds to an end. And I hope so badly that they find happiness, or a book to read that they think is magnificent, that they can treat as a friend because--- well-

I know that feeling better than anyone I know-
when your friends say they'll reply to you, then ignore you, but they're ALWAYS on their phone. It hurts pretty bad to know that something you tricked yourself into believing was false.

It hurts even worse to know that just as they left you, they will leave others too, until they are alone.

So I hope that they find love- or something close because I can't bear thinking about their notes-   where they beg someone to stay, it really isn't hard to see that they made themselves that way.

But I hope that--

I don't know.

But you think about it all the time.

Beneath the mental nothing social media masks over our young minds, to **** us out of our individuality to buy products we neither need or use, or anyone would use.

It makes it no more surprising why I self-abuse.

Because I CAN'T STAND THE CROWD THAT BLOCKS MY VIEW OF THE OCEAN AND ALL IT'S WAVES. THEY ACT AS IF THEY WERE MEANT TO BE THERE, LIKE THEY WERE BORN TO STAND IN FRONT OF OTHERS AND MAKE THEIR LIVES SOMETHING LESS, OR INFERIOR.

But you would never hear me if you tried,
I thought I took over your heart,
no, it was just your spare time.

so I hope that-

I know that you are doing well.

I'm sorry I couldn't be there.

And all is well,

I just need to let it go,
and find a way to look over their heads to whatever is on the other side.
Itunu Mar 2020
I almost loved you
more than life itself

But while  I loved you,
I lost myself

You idolized my body
with fervent desire

You whispered words of desperate love
and I allowed you to consume me

Each time we touched
I pressed my body close, wanting more
needing more

I wanted our hearts to be one
to connect, to unite

And when you looked into my eyes
I was consumed by your stare

And I fell so desperately and hopelessly
In love with you

Almost more than life itself
Paper Heart Poet Mar 2020
the room is upside down and with it im going down too
like being high but instead of happiness depression comes like a dementor
im scratchin my face but I cant scream only crawl in my skin that feels like its not mine
I want to end my life
with a knife
to get rid of this horror that my life has become

loneliness eats me up and i cant go out because they are looking, they are everywhere,
but noone is my friend, only ghost faces and stares who think they know what they see
while im the ghastliest ghost of all whose flesh is just a carrier now
my face is just a ****** up drawing of a 5 year old
i dont want anyone to see because they cant even guess
why the wrinkles are there, it’s the screaming
why the fear is shaking, the agony

i want to smash and shout but im still afraid of being heard while not being heard at all
i don’t know how to tell you either because this monster is now me
it doesn’t talk to me anymore like schizophrenia
it is my whole reality now and there is no distinguishing
threw my phone in the corner and broke its screen
a friendly reminder of the absent of what occupied me

powercut in reality becomes the powercut in my brain
cuts out the tales that occupy my brain
music is weird shouting
fhe fan is whirling with me in this unreal reality
i don’t want to make sense anymore because no one does

with every death i feel less
my cheeks burn from my clawing
shaken by feverish fear
i wanna throw up
it is in my gut
its my cancer
the tumor of the nonsense
pain is my muse but i would rather be “normal”
where are the traffic signs
i don’t have a gps…
Empire Mar 2020
I’m in desperate need
Of someone who
Can see the scars on my wrist
And still want to hold my hand
Iz Mar 2020
I would set my body aflame if it meant I would feel
warmth from you
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