Blake 1d

Their words aren't just syllables
They're gunshots
Bullets released from the barrel
Not looking for laughter
But looking to kill
Taking the voices from those who need to use them most
Tears aren't just tears anymore
Tears have turned to blood
Flowing from every exit it can find
Arguments aren't just controversies
They're wars.

Interpret this how you will.

Someone shout at them
Scare the beasts away
Shitting the clean ground
Suicidal animal viruses

Here, here, and there
Everywhere they shelter
Liabilities to the neighbors
Leaving migraine foams

Traces of their deeds
Scattered in the streets
Fighting for barks that’s louder
Bound to be the worst of all

If we get closer
I hope
I can still
Make myself feel better,
Like I did today.

I want to be strong
And work
As a teammate.

Instead of
Depending on people
Too much
Like I did at some stages
In the past.

I'm empowered
And happier
When I'm more in control
Of myself
And the relationship;
Instead of being reduced
To something that fits
In someone's pocket.

I want to flutter around
Have a good time
And leap in excitement
With my partner's hand in mine.

Both trying our best
To find happiness
In hidden places.

Nudging each other forward
Helping one another
Remember their potential
When they start to fall behind.
That's a relationship I long for.

I'm glad you took a moment
To yourself earlier.
I can understand
How that'd be stressful
And you put yourself first
Which is a good thing.

Thank you for that
And I'm proud of you,
You should always come first.

I hope you're relaxed and at peace
When you rest,
Cherish it while it lasts.

You never know
When another battle will arise.
Trust when I say,
I'll have your back
If you ever need me.


Things are starting to look up once again.
Leila Shearer Sep 21

I'm in control of my thoughts
But that doesn't mean
I have control of the reins.

You might be steering the horse
But you're not the one that decides
Whether it will listen,
If things will run smoothly
Or you'll be thrown off.

That's how my brain gets sometimes
It charges wherever it wants
And I have to hold on tight.

I'll pack everything up,
Crawl into bed
And latch on.


Something I found hidden away in my draft poems.

Frantically tug
The tracks
Prevent progress
Of the most
Volatile transport.


Linkuya 5d

-Trampled Under Hoof-

Thick dust kicks up from this sulfur tar,
Suffocating the fools dim enough come near,
Ultra violence breeds screams from afar,
Thunder Puncher gored on a topaz field.

Trampled under hoof,
No escape from this fate,
Wishing he was saved,
Filling up with hate.

Even mutilated by nature his fists rose high,
Thunder Puncher still has the will to fight,
Standing as the warm blood still escapes his thighs,
Bloodied and muddied, fists flying with all his might.


Ripping and tearing,
Scorching and staring,
Never with bearings,
Always out scaring.

Who is he to fear,
Violently attacking all,
Sharp as a spear,
Hand held in a ball.

Now they've all fallen,
Trilobite the victor,
Blood falling like pollen,
Death the constrictor.

Aleeza 5d

they say that there are things that you can never unsee
images forever burned into the folds of your brain
and yet I think that there are even more things that you can’t unhear
those things that you want to drown out with music you didn’t even know you had

like that song you’ve just found
and it is new to you and the words may not be that clear for now
but a part of you understands
a part of you feels the string of notes every single moment that song lasts
a part of you understands somehow

like cars passing by the street outside your house at midnight
they are mere whooshes in your dreamlike state
their lights stay for too little of a time
and you can’t help but wonder
of where they are rushing to or what place they go home to
whooshes on cement carrying stories you will never know

like the little crack of disappointment in a relative’s voice
when they learn that you want to be something other than what they want you to be
and you try to laugh it off
but it’s a sting you never thought you would feel again after all this time
and then suddenly how well you’ve been doing doesn’t seem to matter
every single time you thought your smiles could reach the sky doesn’t seem to matter
because how can achievements in a path they disapprove of be something to be proud of?
how can something you fit better into feel wrong?

like the soft ripping of a paper envelope as it’s opened
and you’ve been tense for months about this one thing
and here it is in black and white and colors you wanted to associate with a new beginning
but instead it is all of what your worrying nagged you about
it is the words of the voice in your head printed out on thin paper
here is where the world feels like it drops
the only sound is of the letter being put back into its envelope
gently willing it to disappear

like the silence of someone after you speak
and you hear everything else like a click of a pen or a shifting of positions
your mind runs over a hundred, a thousand things
maybe they didn’t hear what you said?
maybe they don’t want to talk about it?
maybe they don’t get what you’re saying?
maybe you should start a new conversation?
you understand that silence should not be regarded as something bad
but here you are
choked by the possibility of them thinking you’re annoying
and that voice tells you to shut up
however the silence makes nerves tumble out of your mouth
why can’t you stop?

like the dull tapping of your fingertips on a keyboard
it’s been a while since you’ve allowed yourself this
months of pushing down the emotions that tug at you
and all you want to do is punch the words out of you
but there is nothing in the muddle that used to serve you so well
there is nothing because the thought of doing this pulls you deeper into the abyss
how you loved doing this before the world decided to tell you you do it wrong
you may have said that this was a part of you
and it is now another part you have lost

like the short bursts of shouting that you hear every time you take out your earphones
and you are reminded yet again why you keep them in
you are so tired of the voices, so tired of the fighting
you hear the scrape of the dining room chair you’re in as you push away after a meal
and you know too well that that is the last sound you want to hear outside of the music you blast
sometimes you think about how a lot can be different if only some events did not happen
and it is cruel to think that but you do it all the same
life had been peaceful before
now ruined by something you don’t have control over anymore

like the soft music at a small gathering
and there is laughter and glasses clinking and the shuffle of everyone’s steps
you block out that thought in your head that digs its claws
but as soon as you are driving home and staring at the streetlights
everything hits you at 50 miles an hour
you wonder how long your smile stayed there
you wonder if anybody sees it falter
and you can’t even explain to anyone why this happens
because you don’t know the answer yourself

like the constant questions
about why you want to do this or why you’re like this
asking about what you’ve decided on after years of confusion and debates with yourself
and they are too curious, too questioning of how you came upon those decisions
they try to offer explanations of what they think can be better for you
and it is like they do not trust you to know what is best for yourself
they think that what you want and the way you identify yourself isn’t what should be
and all your life you’ve been told that you can’t be this and you can’t do that
so now what should you be?

like the thud thud of your tears on a pillow
and you don’t even know where it hurts anymore
all you know is that when you hold that plushie you’ve had forever
a thousand pinpricks run along your arms and your chest
breathing will never be easy and here you are
too aware of the sound of choking back your cries
because there are things that the world doesn’t have to know
and one of them is how there are days you fracture
after weeks of not even knowing what it is exactly to feel

like the goodbyes after a few hours of talking in a cramped café
you know you’ll see them again but there is an emptiness as you go home
a part of you acknowledges the fact that they aren’t that far away
another part feels the longing for another hour, another hug
you know of each other’s schedules and how it is not practical to keep meeting up
but you want to cling to something other than your pillows and your wavering sanity
and having them with you has helped in a way that you miss instantly
as you are once again plunged into the reality of it all

it is the clock ticks as you wait for something to end
it is the steadying breath you take as you reel yourself back from the hell of your thoughts
it is the song you now use as a lullaby when your system refuses sleep
it is the drum of rain against windows as you try to find yourself again

there are sounds I will never unhear
and there will be days that I can’t stand to be me
but there will be sounds that pull me back
there are days that I continue to fight the voices
and that is what I should always remember.

TheGumDealer Nov 11

Night is a Post-apocalypse
for which the people are deemed
and the riches are lame.

Upon her service,
she will change.
Grabbing the sky,
lighting something
new and strange.

Subliminal ocean
where caverns
of ice and impression linger.

Dive into the depths of poverty,
her final gift to end the war.
She marked and named,
a luminous orb will soar.

Jeevan Nov 11

This padded snow is seeping in.
My breath is hard and rash.
This girl has made a fool of me,
the fight was just a flash.
A glint of silver is what I see,
I move on intuition.
Perhaps I can get her to agree,
surrender as admonition.
But incendiary eyes,
are what comprise,
her unmitigated fury.
Her weapon whips,
through air and sky,
personifying her jury.
She missteps, and I imply,
gently, with my compound's eye,
the meaning of my words.

Iron chafes the ground of grass.
Her body shifts with fluent ease.
Reverent speed I can't surpass.
Her saber, bringing death's disease.


She contemplates all that I've said.
My eyes are locked on savory skies.
Life and death are on a thread.
Her maxim's pact she can't defy.

My steadied hand can take the risk,
with no regard for identity,
of moving blades, as I am frisked.
Another piece of my weaponry.
Assassins grace will carry through.
Perhaps to be my remedy.
Her hidden blade makes its debut.
Restoring lost integrity.

Silence permeates rotten skies, as snow flakes hit the earth.
My limbs are feeling ragged, my breathing is overt.
Calamity is added, by the blush she can't desert.

I wrote this based on a picture which depicted the end of a brief fight between a human and an elf in a fantasy setting.
Raquel Butler Nov 10

I am so much more than I ever expected to be
Despite drowning in this insufficiency
A chorus of deafening inadequacy
Proving myself and others wrong,
So deliciously

I never expected to be so far
I expected to be much farther
I never expected to be alive
I expected to be demising

I know I’ve hurt
I know I’ve broken others
I know I’ve bruised
I know I’ve used others

Regretful I suppose
Just reactionary behavior

And I have succumbed to my darkest depths
Though they have never won
And I have fallen back 12 steps
Yet still, I scale the rungs

So when I say “I’ve given up”
Never do believe me
I am capable of getting up
Love, I’m just that crazy.

I mean it was inspired by you, but like also I needed this anyway.
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