Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maria Mitea Apr 2021
the fruit of their few
joyful days together
Alvira Perdita Apr 2021
when we sit in the shade
from the burning sun on the
autumn afternoon, listening
to the children hunt for eggs,
all i can think is that you all
belong here.

i am the imposter, i can feel that they know. your jokes are all funny and i can't find the energy to laugh.

i don't want to be here, i hate 'family lunch'es, i hate pretending to be alright when i just want to sit in my room, alone.

family is always priority for me,
but i cannot place them in my life.
so we sit, laughing with all your loved ones,
and i pretend not to feel alone.
i dont think i'll see 2022 if things carry on this way.
Jan Apr 2021
You told me
THINK about your health

You told me
I HAVE to stay in discipline
to get a life to LIVE

Everyone tells me
I CAN'T **** the treatment off

ENOUGH
I don't want to die
I don't want to die
I don't want to die
But
What if I die?
Or worse,
What if I never get healthy?
kier Mar 2021
one day ill lay beneath the flowers
my soul blossoming outwards,
only to be compressed by the soil.
once more rejected, failing to love...
poor little me, won't know what else to do..!
but tear into themselves,
crying for all of eternity...
but they say that tragedy is a beauty,
which is why the flowers blossom
over my pitiful grave.
and isn't it funny...?
laughable almost,
to be the source of your own misery
kier Mar 2021
death is a lover, asking for your hand in marriage.
run if you please, but escape is temporary
so won't you love, as the white flowers fall...
embrace death and the sweet hums of its call
Stalwart Dull Mar 2021
As I look at myself dying
A secret. I'm not yet done
from keeping
It's not  mysterious nor thrilling
But a tragedy, that seems unending—tin🍃
Sudzedrebel Mar 2021
olive green
tight fitting garbs
drab and mean
old men who jaw
we're a caravan
of death
we march to a beat
of bullets let
i'm running far first chance i get

christ, i'm in the army now
neth jones Mar 2021
respiring corridors
   interior hospital night

outside
                silenced
                         ­         the winter
away facing
                       patient pacing

    in palliative care
for the age-ed out expiring
     iterations of ejecting death
       darkly dressed haggy wet breaths
        beds engaged
          berths of great ferment

corridor ; raked in
corridor ; ridden out squalling

a patient who has yet to reach
   the concluding condition of his fellows
bellows
   'Shut The **** Up'
mad for sleep
he's lost compassion

The corridor labours on
Next page