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zb 12m
you took your thumbs
and brushed them over
the bruises nestled above my cheekbones

my eyes, half-closed, but so bright
because the warmth of your palms on my face
kept me from losing my mind

i'm so tired
my fingers, my brain, my soul
i'm so tired but you still hold me
I’m screaming ******!
****** ******!
But no one’s listening
They pass by my pool of blood
And call it painted water
Why can’t they see?
Or are they purposely blind to me?

Where has my blood gone?
I see it pouring out knife wounds I can no longer see
Vision fading
Vision faulty
I’m screaming ******! I’m screaming atrocity!
I’m screaming “please don’t hurt me!”
I scream and I scream
But my screams are just whispers
To their ears

Why did they ****** me?
I’ve done nothing worthy
I am not worthy of their hate

Perhaps when I’m gone
I’ll come back as an angel
Perhaps when I’m an angel
They won’t want to hurt me

Perhaps if I’m an angel
I won’t feel like an outcast
Perhaps I’ll be better when I’m gone...
Oh moment of silence
Wash all over me
Block away the noise
Wash away my agony

I have been used and abused
By humanity
I have been hurt and misunderstood
By those I believed cared for me
Those I gave myself to
Oh moment of silence
Won’t you wash away the pain?

I have loved and lost
And then tried to love the world
But lost it too

If I gave you my heart
My body, my soul
If I showed you my tears and my words
Would you try to understand?
Or use my life-force as fuel?
Would you ridicule, all I hold dear?
Would you ridicule, Me?
I surrender.

So I’ll just give myself to a world
I know will discard and disregard me, too.
ómra Oct 4
i am… tired.
almost impossibly so.
my bones ache and every time i pass
a grassy hill, going somewhere-
always going somewhere, doing something-
they beg and plead to lay down and rest.

to let the grass grow over them like a blanket,
let the sun bleach them of the responsibility
of holding my body up.

i press raw fingertips to their groans
and keep walking, eyes up,
not looking
as the hills beckon.
to go to sleep would be
the sweetest way to give up
Popleocan Sep 30
Melted into my cushion below.
Wood before me, ceramic circles.

Cold vibrations buzz in the air,
Carrying tales.
The same... but different.
Repeatedly blasting my eardrums,
Gripping my mind in a chokehold.
Pounding in messages all the same.
Dreadfully, droning. On and on.

Where is it coming from?
The icy daggers that pierce me deeply,
Killing my hope?

In front, on cushions of their own.
Countless figures lined up with circles.
Shadows, smiling and laughing. Repeatedly.

Same stories. Same atttibutes.
Distinct figures externally.
Each internal voice... the same.

My ears lift like feathers.
Flying in hopes of warmth.
Only to meet the same,
Instruments under each figures nose.
Eating their flesh on ceramic circles.

As my wings fold, I sing my song.
Warm but filled with color.
Scented with lavender.
Tasting of pepper.
Rainbow vibrations warm the table.

The figures become clearer.
My friends, family, strangers all near.
Talk of themselves everyday all year.
My words distinct. Reach every ear.

Strange questions and tales; none true.
Alone at the table but surrounded I sit.
Wishing to hear my words returned.
My wings stay chained, my heart cold.
How many jokes have I told?
How many smiles have I seen?
How long has it been?

Speak for them. To drown them out.
Leaving smiles on every mouth.
Have no friends and get no help.
Speak to them, talk to myself.
I dont know how to add bold text and italics on my phone.
Rowan Sep 30
Tin’s in the shed
So is Auntie who drinks too much.
I often wonder, who’ll go first—
Mary Jane or the boy next door.

The sky was shedding tears yesterday,
Who died? Or rather, who didn’t?
Music rhythm swaying kids in the clubs
And overdoses treated as criminal thefts

There’s a crab cake on the table,
Don’t know what it’s for anymore.
No one’s left to eat, no one’s left to eat
And I’m stuck in utter agravity.

These lungs we share, saturated with
Drugs trying to revive,
And drugs trying to pitch overboard
I wanna just lay down and

Forget the stars
Forget the moon
Forget the seven billion souls

Cursed pits under eyes of
Grey scaled photos to hide
Paintings of blacked blue
Look, there’s *** standing over all

Saying nothing, saying nothing.
See any miracle? huh, neither do I
Cause I’m not sure whether direct opposition or
Indirect consultation ever shaves away Alex’s eyebrows.

There isn’t an ounce of bread left
To feed those seven billion souls, isn’t that
Right? Cause waste from hearth is worth
Less than their left pinky.

**** tired of this mess
We livin’ in a cupboard, in
A kitchen full of paper thumbs and
Punctured eyes.
Gale L Mccoy Sep 29
i seek approval from things
that don't matter at all
i seek meaning from a number
i crave what i know
is not a state of my value
but the number of people
who happened to look this way

and i’m part of the mute mass
observers with a voice
reserved to save energy
on obligations and have to’s

and i am the go-between
guilty over my exhaustion
inability to help all i see

and i am a creator
with power in my words
held in the eyes and minds
of others. not my own hands
and to be heard is the
entirety of why words exist
M G Hsieh Sep 20
The fire, the foal, a coming of age
in the light of the darkness
be still.

Faithful, adjourning
take flight in the stars.
Wind gushes.

Away, you fools!
Grasping the straws
of camaraderie.

We light
we sparkle
then fade

Raizel Sep 17
After so many sleepless
Nights and days
I've finally had a moment of silence.

A moment when I did not feel
I had no thoughts or pain.
I didn't think about you.

I was so tired
Everything around me was dead.
It was such a bliss.

But my body is collapsing
And I begin to wander
Will my feelings for you
Die first or me?
After weeks of dozing off two or three times a day for less than an hour, lots of caffeine, drugs, mental and physical exhaustion, last night I've finally had a moment of silence, everything around me stopped, the pain and my thoughts were no longer there.
Theshygirl Sep 9
I have an exhaustion,
Buried deep under my skin,
And as hard as I try,
I can't seem to rid myself of it.
I oversleep and under-sleep,
I overeat and I under-eat.
I try just short of everything,
To find any ounce of energy,
I lost so long ago.
But I should have known better,
This was not just exhaustion.
No amount of sleep could cure
what I am plagued with.
An exhaustion not from lack of energy,
but from a lack of euphoria.
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