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Daylight 4U2C May 2014
There was a song,
I recall like a drug.
From my childhood,
yet faintly lost at sea.

It was a sweet song.
A whistle?
A sweet song indeed.
It was a humming,
and a hemming.
And I sway to the long,
for that old sweet song.

The song that shut
sweet child eyes.
The song that could
disguise bad times.
The song filled with warmth,
to soften my ice.
The song that calmed pain,
proving the existence of 'truly nice.'

This song from way low,
to the day I now know,
is my..heart
my..sky
my lu-lu-lullaby
I always wanted my parents to sing me to sleep. Read me a book to sleep, but they didn't.
  The only thing my mom read to get me to sleep was the bible. And we weren't even that religious.

Now I love lullabies so much! Vienna Tieng- Lullaby For A Stormy Night is my #1!
Dark Jewel May 2014
My heart is disguised,
As paper.
Thats spotted with red dots.

The dots move endlessly,
Never again to return.
With Oxygen.

My heart is disguised,
As a drum.
That beats,
Constantly.

Once it stops.
You never were.
Here.
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
I thought you could see through my disguise
See through the charade of everyday
I thought you were different
From the others
The ones who tell me to
Get up
Get moving
Or get out of the way.
While everyone else was herding past,
You offered me your hand
You were the first to tell me
I was worth it.
But that was your game,
Your play.
I wasn't special, not to you.
You led me along
And I enjoyed the ride,
Not realizing that it made me
Just like the
Rest of them.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
it is a post-human resistance to still-born meat,
the floccinaucinihilipilification of the catholic retreat;
another God disguised to look like me.
As he stared at me,
his face set,
I couldn't look, as on the
Open magazine, no reading,
But only to see him peering.

He stared at me as I slept,
Stared as I ate.
The Father of Our Country
I soon began to hate.
They took my gun, they took
My freedom,
Soon I'll get out of here
And give George a beating.

Still he stares, still
he looks
And once again they hit me
With the books.
I tried to injure the guard,
To get the key.
That danged picture keeps
lookin' at me!

I'm in the jail, I'm in the pen.
For anywhere from five to ten.
You could not know how I feel
as I sit and shut my eyes.
Be careful, they're watching you,
Under their disguise.
I am a clinically depressed schizophrenic.

— The End —