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Orange Rose Aug 2018
Words have always come to me,
As easy as the air I breathe,
And now they turn their heads and flee,
So I can't write my poetry.

Don't ask me to write pretty words,
They're gone as far as I'm concerned,
They've flown away like little birds,
And now there's nothing to be heard.

I've used up every single rhyme,
A new hobby would be sublime,
I'm sick of always keeping time,
Like breaking it would be a crime.

But even when I try to write,
It seems my flowing thoughts are tight,
The silence gives me quite a fright,
Like darkness in the dead of night.

It's time to say goodbye to day,
So it's good the words have gone away,
I didn't want them anyway.
It's good they didn't want to stay.

Those words have never done me good,
Or gave me solace like they should,
I wonder if they ever could.
Perhaps I have misunderstood.

But anyway the point is made.
I can't keep up with this facade.
The race is done, the game is played,
And now my poems have to fade.

So now my life is up to fate,
To leave you this is what I hate,
And one last poem would be great.
To say goodbye and then- oh wait...

Have I been rhyming all along?
Did I really write another song?
I thought my words had said "so long,"
Now they've come back to prove me wrong.
CautiousRain Aug 2018
Empty my mind,
My perception of time
Is skewed and I’ve lost myself
Somewhere
But I can’t see it
or feel it anymore,
My life shifts so slowly,
Or is it quickly?
From under my feet and
As the stars and planets
Rotate, I feel alone
Small
Fragile
And unnerved,
Please tell me where I am
And who I am meant to be
In this cavernous hole in reality.
hhhhhhhh bad night, mercury's got me ****** up
Mica Kluge Jun 2018
If I ever to do anything to excess,
I hope that it will be kindness
And not its antithesis.
I may only be human, but while I'm stuck doing that, I intend to do a decent job of it.
Meg May 2018
i remember your hands around her throat
and how she mistook it for love
and how she thought it meant you’d never let her go
and i remember your words and how you chewed up any kind ones you possessed and spat them
as if they were dirt on the bedsheets as if to tell her she meant nothing
that she was as impure as any kind thing you had ever done
as if to say you meant none of it
but i heard your heart break
and i saw you try and bury it beneath your ***** words
but the cracks poked through and i am sorry
and i remember your feet and how much heavier they sounded leaving, and that sound became my heartbeat
and every time your feet hit the ground i felt them in my stomach, but i took the violence because if you weren’t going to stay at least the bruises would
and i am so sorry i can’t forget
and i am so sorry that sometimes i am still stood alone at train stations, or pressing my nose to frosted glass, waiting for your distorted figure
and i am sorry i am still bruised
i am sorry that i am sorry
i am sorry that i cannot forget
but i have forgiven you
i swear
i promise you that i have.
Mica Kluge Mar 2018
Love is a lot of things:

A feeling.
A passion.
A choice.
A revolution.
A voice.
A creation.
A language.
An action.
A sacrifice.
An interaction.
A crime.
An abstraction.
A blessing.
An affirmation.
A life.

And, it's just one word.
Imagine what we could do with a thousand more.
Mica Kluge Feb 2018
Maybe there's no stopping it -
The anthem of the bored and lonely.
Muted melodies of drumming fingertips
And repetitive rhythms of eyes tracing
The same paths along cracked ceilings.

The same dregs in the *** for three days.
My phone battery's been dead for two.
We're all just looking for something.
And you can't find it in a ceiling.
But that doesn't stop us from looking.
Mica Kluge Jan 2018
People don't bare their souls-
but books do.
And-just for a little while-
when I'm buried neck deep in their spines,
I don't feel so lonely anymore.
Eugene Aug 2017
Nakaupo ako sa isang upuang nakalagay sa gitna. Pinilit kong imulat ang aking mga mata. Pero parang binibiyak sa sakit ang aking ulo.

Umiikot na rin ang paningin ko nang mga oras na iyon nang mapansin kong unti-unting lumalapit ang magkabilang dingding na gustong dumikit sa akin.

Isa...

Sinubukan kong tumayo.

Dalawa...

Hindi ko mailakad ang aking mga paa.

Tatlo...

Ilang dipa na lamang ang layo ng mga dingding sa akin.

Apat...

Hindi ako p'wedeng mamatay dito sa maliit at masikip na espasyong ito.

Lima...

Pinigilan ng dalawa kong kamay sa kaliwa at kanan ang dingding.

Anim...

Wala na akong lakas. Maging ang mga paa ko ay kusa na ring nanghina.

Pito...

Tanging mga braso ko na lamang ang pumipigil.

Walo...

Ramdam ko na ang unti-unting pagpisa ng mga buto ko sa katawan.

Siyam...

Nabali na ang mga buto ko. Tumilamsik na ang mga dugo sa aking katawan.

Sampu...

Tuluyan nang sumabog ang bungo ko. Mistulang kulay pulang pinturang dumikit ang mga utak ko sa dingding na iyon.
Mica Kluge Aug 2017
Once upon a time,
I spiraled
Into madness and
Enjoyed
Myself so much
That I
Never bothered
To climb
Out.
JR Falk Aug 2016
You lit a match within me,
but now I'm burning from
the inside
out.
I came up with this while talking to a friend today at a zoo. He's using it in a song, but I loved this and changed a few of the words around.
2:45pm (estimated)
8.21.2016
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