Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lungs filled with water, fists pounding on chest
Blue lips frozen in time, a beating heart at rest
There's no sun shining through the clouds.

Eyes filled with horror, mouths unable to speak
Hope starts to wane, no one's able to reach
The worse conclusion to this poem.

When all hope is lost, and the world's hysterical
Sometimes, very rarely, someone sends a miracle
I don't know who, and I don't know why
All I know is that someone's on our side.

A gasp of air, a failing heart beats
Eyes flutter open, we now believe

In miracles.
The all-encompassing blanket of white engulfs the hearts barely beating
Time and space linger from moving forward, delaying
Silence stretches for miles within the compressed block
Disrupted by the continues steady beats of the clock
Counting down each second before the arrival of death
Some wishing sooner to take their last breath
While others attempt to stall it with will and wealth

All of man's riches, achievements and glory reduced to a fading memory
Only a few-feet bed to call their own, their last treasury
Awaits to be passed down from the dead to the dying
As the armed man walks freely in this room, brushing past those lying
Through the occasional wheezes of the dumb, his voice is heard
Communicating the message of forewarning through  the unsaid word
He has much not to be said as he waits in the midst of the dying herd

There's no beauty in the dying days
Only an ugly mess painted clearly on their face
The stench of corps not yet dead
Waiting and waiting with dread
Dripping down the corners of their mouth, their untold stories
Reminiscing sorrowfully upon their past glories
And filling their final thoughts with regrets of unsolved quarries

I walk for miles and miles unable to exit this tiny room
Struggling to escape the impending doom
Death's silent whispers still echoing in my ears
The stabs of reality bringing to my eyes, tears
Even though my time here remains with uncertain deals
I feel that death has stolen a part of me that most appeals
Sneaking away seconds of life from time to time as he feels
Safe 3d
I always feared sunrises never knew why,
But I have never had fears and so i was surprised with this new feeling of vulnerability...
I looked at the sky s colour changing,
Dark then lighter colour of blue ,
As if some painter have lost all sense and art , and started putting black into everything he had.
He lost his heart, and everything he once had.
And turned dark..
I looked at the sky,
Heard the birds chanting,
Is this what it feels like to be alive?
I don't know who I am yet,
I dont think I'll ever do.
Is this  what it feels like to be finally alive?
Hear me birds chanting in ways even I don't understand.
Hear me birds, saying the truth that comes out of insanity.
Hear me world,
And please let space for me.
Please let a spot empty,
For my naked body to fill, after being filled with everything you've enchanted me with.
Is this what it feels like to be alive?
To welcome dawn when it's still dark,
To welcome the stars when it's still light,
To welcome sun when it's raining.
Is .. this .. what .. it .. .. to .. be .. alive?
Or am I still dead ? Am I dying world? And is this your last trial to save me world? ..
Am   .. I.. dead .. yet world ?
Death blindfolds Its weakest target before It strikes efficiently.
When the gaze can be met without knowledge,
Five senses complete are heightened in an explosive state.
Their ears tick and shatter at the sound of their own helplessness,
Tumbling from their newly rented lips.
The taste of blood becomes evident upon their tongue.
Their feelers reach peak for safety,
But can only grasp thin oxygen.
The smell of It’s cologne chokes their lungs before Its grand attack.
It, the Grim Reaper;
The blindfold is removed from the target.
The command is uttered.
Consuming black is introduced as the new light entirely.
Death draws the dying’s ending breath for decorated delight.
he holds my hand
and spends the night
chasing after dying stars
he smiles
falling for the moon
shouldn't be afraid to die,
i am
Madi Dinneen May 17
if i may be frank,
i’ll tell you a secret
for your eyes only

i want nothing more
than to sleep eternally
i’m tired of life
a series of haikus
I am not beautiful
When I am sad
Because my depression
Is not the pretty
Made for tv kind

It’s the kind
That keeps me in bed
All day and night
Not able to get up
But also unable to sleep

The kind that means
I didn’t take a shower
Or bath all week
Because I couldn’t
Even put in that small amount of effort

It’s not the kind
That people want to see
To take artsy photos of
That could just be fixed
If only I could be happier

It’s the kind that means
I’ll be up all night again
And I’ll have bags under my eyes
And I won’t put on makeup
Because I just can’t do anything

And I can’t make myself study
Or do any work at all
Because my mind
Just can’t stop thinking
About everything and nothing

The kind that brings up
All of the memories
That I try to forget
And that try to **** me
Or maybe that’s just me
Do not fear tomorrow
for tomorrow will never come
do not fear the past
for the past is already done

do not cry for approval
for approval gives no bread
do not weep for the dying
instead laugh with the dead

follow the path of gravestones
decorated with gold
follow the dark and the light
to see which one takes hold

listen to the bird call
follow the raven's trail
listen to the wolf howl
watch him shake his tail

coo coo
caw caw

run as fast as we can

moo moo
ba ba

back to where it began
Look at the people around us
Dying, sick, alone
Look at the wondrous things
Some have
money, smiles, ******, and
Surplus of food
thrown all away
So many others still starving
these days
Illness stretches through the earth
And yet for others happiness
They still wander and play
in mirth
Making more sickness
making more death
are you happy now?
That some people no longer have breath?
Next page