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All my cuts and scrapes
Have been exposed

So much this burns
eve Dec 2020
Frantically looking around,
I start to realize
I am alone
I am with me
And only me
No one else around
To cover my eyes from the destruction
Of myself
Of what I make of life
Of what I continue to question
Overthinking is a burden for me
From time to time,
I treat overthinking as a reward system
Slowly giving parts of myself
To something that does not co-exist.
I mean,
What is time?
Why is it always ticking?
Why are we trapped in ourselves?
Is there a way out of this madness of something called a world?
Filled with pitiful human beings
We call ourselves
By names
Constantly labeling ourselves and others
I guess that’s what school has taught us
And that’s all of what early life is
I guess what I am saying is that seas can drown us out
Our mind can play tricks on our physical bodies
Making us feel things that aren’t real
Making us feel things for people who were never real
Or never close to what we’ve made them out to be.
Life is a rope
We’ve got to keep tugging at it
It is the only way we can see
If there is truly a way out
Or if what lies ahead
Is nothing short of millions of miles of distance
From a shore that is close to nothing
Is made up of
A black hole
Or maybe an abyss
A yearning
To see what’s at shore
We must continue searching
And never stopping, for anyone
For anything
What lays ahead.
What lays ahead?
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
She likes to take **** walks
through the old neighborhood
to give them a lesson in gravity,
as much as a thrill.

She prefers to run the table
than walk the line,
her naked truth, she believes,
is worth the crime.
The body remains beautiful, but it indeed does change.
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I’m the only one with dirt on my hands,
I’ve been crossing my fingers and snapping rubber bands.
And the fragments and pieces build into a story,
I transformed it to a thesis; the quality’s too low for me,
and I never set my expectations too high,
as should I, a lack of truth and abundance of lie.
My oh my and by the by.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and head,
there’s splinters in my skin and my bed,
there’s poison in the words I was fed.

I’m the only one missing pressure on my shoulders,
replaced the gentle weight with two heavy boulders.
I was wishing on satellites thinking they were stars,
breaking free from embraces thinking they were bars,
admiring fireflies not realizing they were cars
but I’m painfully aware of my own
I’m holding open seminars
to these memoirs of ours.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and shell,
there’s craters in my heart where I fell,
there’s holes in each story you tell.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2019
The sun is a small paintbrush
every morning it rolls with colour
and paints at my home the first light
exposes it as new as ever!
Not by the Moon nor by the star
but by me my home my planet earth!
KHY Jan 2019
Sin is a real evidence keeper
Expose it to your equals
Or it will eat you
Boy run ,run

She has come

She is beauty

She is honey

She attracts observers

She imprisoned them

She stole their hearts

She took their minds

She affected  them

They became her slaves

Who can face her?

Her eyes are wide

She  drown her viewers

They battled for safe

They battled to reach

The shore of safe

But they gave ,they gave up

Who can face her?

Her face is white

Shine at the light with bright

When it was seen

The hearts dropped at the legs

The minds got  paralyzed

She did what she wanted

Her cheeks were burning

With the red color made you shame

You didn't look very save

You couldn't look her

Her hair were free

Moved with the air

They were flew high    

Then they flew down
And your eyes followed hers
eyes,, down, moved, look, burning, paralyzed,  legs,
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Wide open are your arms  
the sun is a small paintbrush  
every daybreak it draws  
exposes you as new as ever!  
The surges in the billows  
blow out swimming clouds  
across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
the starry thrillers on the sky  
they all are a dwarf bunch  
draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.  
Who can describe it better  
everyone is lost for words!
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
All the dead soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines.
Why can’t we see what all of them have seen?
Why didn’t we notice that nobody had attacked us?
We urged them to invade and **** as if it was practice.
You know, war games that turned out a bit too real?
How come those giving orders don’t seem to feel?
Why do they keep overtaking countries overseas
That did nothing more to us than perhaps displease?

They angered us by having some resources we wanted.
This should remind of how the ancient countries hunted
And robbed, ***** and murdered in their neighbor’s lands.
Why that was acceptable then, nobody really understands.
Yet today, when we are supposed to be so **** intelligent
We are just as bloodthirsty, but dressed a bit more elegant.
We repeat the cycle, generation after mindless generation
And then dare to call ourselves a democratic nation.

How is that possible? Nobody ever came and asked me
It it was fine to send thousands of troops overseas.
Nobody asked me if it was a good thing to **** and maim
Then used poisoned media to make the victims take the blame.
Instead leaders and clerics stood in their pulpits and brayed
That if we didn’t follow their lead, it meant we were afraid,
Or, worse yet, we were the traitors and were all liable
If we didn’t do what they read from old parts of the bible.

It becomes “an eye for an eye”, even when we aren’t hurt.
We come up with stupid axioms to treat others like dirt.
We send our sons and daughters, to invade and be killed
Because some rich ******* demand it on Capitol Hill.
It will be this way forever more if we don’t make it stop.
We, the average voter, must become the traffic cop.
We must elect only leaders without blood in their eye.
If we don’t this big "Godly nation" is nothing but a lie.
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