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When I think of life,
I see an empty canvas ready to be painted upon,
or open blank pages that are waiting to be written on.
A baby is born, their first words in a book say;
"where am I?"
"what is this world"
"this is so cool"
or some babies have an anxiety
"bring me back into mothers womb?"
"I' am scared, what is this?"
But as you say, they do not know how to speak our language, maybe not by tongue but in their little cubicle minds...they have a language we once understood then only time could tell....
When I think of life,
I see empty pages and canvases waiting to be spilled onto,
but some art dusty and rusty, gone through 0-100 and have no space left but to die and leave it to the rest, because all those pages have been fulfilled.
Life carries on, into the next barrier of a woman's womb...and that is truly where the first page starts, or the first speck of paint draws...into the ****** of a fruitful woman most babies will call their mother.
Life and death
Unknown Girl Jan 12
Hidden in plain site I watch you take note of your every move.
I lurk waiting for the right time, for my moment to strike.
I know what makes you afraid and I know how to use it.
I am a monster hunting you and just know its your fault.
You have starved me of your love teased me with your beauty.
You should have listened to your mama when she said cover up.
Because now you are in my arms begging me to stop but I wont.
I AM THE MONSTER
Maria Mitea May 2020
During the dark night of your soul, you came at my door.
I can’t tell how many, the only witnesses I have are the orchids and their friends. I see you, I feel you, and I hear you. You were fearful, hungry, and in desperate need of aid.
I apologize for the door being closed, and me
not being there to embrace your anguish.

You came when left out,
I understand and I know you can learn.
I wish I was nearby to teach you how to knock at a closed door.
It would've been easier and help you avoid throwing
the hammer and break the entry glass door.
That was a shock to my eyes. But,
I was happy to see the flowers unshattered. The only witness
that could tell me “They are good people,
in need to know what hides behind closed glass doors.
What is in there for them at this time?"

I cried,
I cried for me not being present, and I cried for them being left out,
and I wished that I would’ve had a bad habit of hiding money somewhere, and asked: “When they have been left out?”
Out of love
Out of care
Out of family
Out of attention
Out of the world
Out of embrace
And common sense.
When these innocent children of God, like me and like you have been left as a prey to the hungry flames of affliction.

When these children of God, like me and like you have been excluded, ignored, and punished in hell of mercy.
Left out to find fallen hope in the midst of the dark night soul...

I also asked what happened behind those closed doors,
when you have been scorned. A fiesta, or a sumptuous dinner, took place or maybe a somber face and rigid gaze spreading in the room when ignorance took over and the meaning of your existence was misunderstood.
What happened behind those closed doors?
when you have been left out. How old you were, and how fragile.
Did you have the strength to cry for help, or you accepted
desperately the dark place as the only way of being in this world.
.
I can see you bending towards the gray floor and searching in-kind despair every corner. I can feel your disappointment in finding only feathers and books that you threw on the floor without asking what it is in them for you. I can see your lips shrinking, and hope fade in clenched jaws looking at the blue walls
afraid of the pages you touched while searching for what you don’t know.
I still wish I would’ve had a bad habit of hiding some money, as
I once carefully kept green leaves in between childhood pages.
I  wish I was there.

I am grateful you took the speaker, the only BOSS in the space of healing.
Now you have what I had. What a wonderful way to connect.
I will take care and send you the waves and sounds of my heart while praying for you finding an honorable way of being here with all of us, and sharing the space as one.

I just want you to know that I see you,  I feel you, and I hear you.
My space is your space, and the door is always opened by grace.
Don’t be afraid! Come and ask for healing.
Come and heal your forgotten wounds, what has been broken and lost.

I am happy you didn't break the windows.
The orchids told me “they are good people”
there is hope that you will return to the crystal light.
I will pray day and night for the light to enter your heart,
exhausted from searching in the corners of a room that is not yours.

I apologize if I made you feel left out, and
not being in the space behind the closed door waiting,
giving you the
embrace you’ve always searched during the darkness of your soul.
Sabika H May 2020
I feel such terrible distress
Like I lost something as precious
As my purpose.
All the screams and darkness
Swooping over me and drowning my senses
Fear is senseless
And reckless.
Fear is helpless
So painful it’s painless.
So dark
It blinds me with its brightness.

This world goes in circles
And repeats cycles
And I’m stuck in the middle
As I cry in my comfortable cradle
Because I am blessed to point out that
my only curse
Is having to feel
And live a life so real
It haunts me in my sleep
And seeps into my dreams.
And buries me in a grave.

Why do I cry for the future?
The present is a cloud
And fate is the wind
And I try to find my silhouette
Reflected within.

I revel in this collective fearful consciousness.
I revel in this confused toxicity and if this isn’t telling
Then I should be yelling.
Jenish Apr 2020
Pattering rain shattering on grey road
With grisly green umbrella she troad
In a black attire looking ghostly white
Her red woeful eyes sending fearful jilt.

Watery moon painting yellowish lips
Frozen fear dancing on pink finger tips
Her flowing hair sweeping pain of ashes
An orange lamp blinking passing wishes.

Violet blooms falling from whining trees
Covering brown earth - a graveyard in pleas
Ah nature, dull and dreary, standing still
Her fervid eloquence under blue spill.

My canary cage cried a fearful moan
While eyes shifted, into thin air she gone.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2020
I am done with heartfelt tears
Tired of hiding my pain
Self-pitying routine of mine
Driving me insane

Smiling at you will no longer hurt me
You won't make me cry
Not going to waste my time
Thinking about goodbye

I will not wish another day
One more chance with you
It's not going to help anything
Doesn't matter what I do

And step by step I see slow change
Sometimes you compliment me
The other day you ruffled my hair
So different from how we used to be

I refuse to whine because we are friends
That's more than nothing at all
Heart still missing the love disappeared
Yet too afraid to fall

I am alone
But not yet lonely
A little fearful of heartache
I don't need somebody new
Just need a little break
Written 11-6-10

Wow this one is sooo old it brings back a flood of memories. Both pleasant and painful..
Marri Mar 2020
I don’t want to pray about you.
Not because God and I are taking a break,
Not because I’m busy,
Not because I can’t close my eyes without blinking away tears.

But because I’m scared.
I admit it,
I’m scared.

I’m scared that God will take you from me,
I’m scared that he’ll smite me for loving you.

I’m scared that God will cast me out of your garden,
I’m scared that the snakes and I are tangled into each other.
(We’re unrecognizable. Who knows where slither starts and fingertips end.)

I’m terrified that God will tell me that you and I aren’t meant to be,
That we are abominations.
That this wasn’t a match made in heaven.

That we are slowly falling,
In love,
Back to earth,
With wings scorched black—

Please.
Don’t ask me to pray,
Or you just might catch me with my eyes wide open whispering sweet nothings to a God I’m fearful of.
Poetic T Nov 2019
When the path is empty,
   and no other tracks are

visible


                 we need to see if these

footsteps are worth the time..

For if no other walked before,

how do we have a realisation

that this is a path that leads to
                     where we wish to tread upon.

But if others were fearful of walking here,
          was it due to there insecurities?

And was I the first one to venture on a
    path of discovery of  yet unfulfilled
               destinations.

But willing to discover
                              what awaited
be it in vain or
a fulfilment yet not recognized.
If I ever get out of this cage,
I'll move so far away,
they'll never see me again.
I dream of a great migration,
now trapped,
forced to suffer flagellation.
These chains that hold me in place
will be the same to shape a noose.
Infinity has never felt so long.
I say my last goodbye with the words,
"So long."
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