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I'm tired of fighting for a we that you don't seem to ever be in the mood to fight for deep in your core

I'm tired of working on a we just to have me thrown in my face till I surrender and hit the floor

I'm tired of having to be perfect in order for me to be worth you sticking around for

I'm tired of being in a single topic argument just to have you bring in dozens from the way back store

I'm tired of being held fully responsible for the issues I'm not even remotely responsible for

I'm tired of working on us issues just for you to shrug them off 'cause I have so many more

I need you to want me to be part of your we, otherwise what the fuuck are we struggling through this fire for?

I'll be waiting for your answer by the exit door but only for a couple minutes more

©2024
a false promise of freedom to a captured man,
just like a cup of poison, filled up to the brim.
a note between the stones of all the walls we've built
and all all the walls they tore down just to fight again.
it's nothing like the light that breaks a peaceful dawn,
it's painted in the colours of a foreign flag.
and everything that burns takes us a lifetime back,
and everyone who died was not meant to be born.
acceptance isn't earned, it's but a weapon drawn
and aimed at those who dare to overstep the line.
a shattered cup of poison for a senseless crime
filled up by blood of every prisoner of war.
Nicole Mar 30
Hi, how are you holding on?

Are you tired? It’s okay.
Look how far you are now.
You will get there.
Acid smiles
Simple lucre, to a faster pussycat
Worth your was, thus a loose while
Sweet knowing you, with this and that...

Solemn kinds of whether?
Looking beyond you, the truth to a smile
Fashion forward, and surviving the gall to bother
A season of choice, to keep the better of rues of denial?

Talk to me...
The rose and the voice of alright, tonight
The liberty in a merciful love, merciless to we
Simple news for an irony's me; my accept, my slight...

Yours again...
Set to rights, the tale of seeking how
For a better lover, the risks of integrity
With hold or archaic powers, the speed of knowing...

Is a reaching us, a clashing must?
To voice the other wise, in these rages and fates...
A look for bests is the only way to discuss
A misery followed by charisma; a sense of privilege, curious in the shade

Where sincerity is a favored eye, if not concern
Spare intention, in the paces we further to skill
Life with a stern lip, but know an eye to worth...
With the love it is given, the swallow of pride, in hell?
Hello, dawn and dread, a liberty has responded ahead
yıldız Feb 9
[...] like a moth that would do anything to reach its light, here you try to break the distance between you and me. Like a moth blinded by the beauty of the light, unaware of the harm the light could do to it, here you fight for our love.
you Love i
Alien Jan 11
The love of my father was boxing
seeing my father slicing
The wind with his bare hands
Shadow boxing by his lonesome
Like if he was fighting the wind
The wind was his sparring partner
the sounds of his fists cutting through the air
I saw the violence and art
my dear father moves slower
After many decades
his punches have lost its sound
and his movement
has lost rhythm of time
the wind has beaten him over the years
it has taken my father all he’s had to fight
His last fight  
Even the wind has taken the last wind out of him
neth jones Dec 2023
blood                                                  
blood patter and splash                            
leads us         concrete toward
tracing back        til the scene        
i’ve flashing thoughts of the brutality
   the violence     that must of cussed  
  between persons            
         in fear    fray    and inebriation

down the steps                                     
            my four year old child and I go          
the greasing bleed     in bronze putters  
growing and leadening
on stone labours

glowing citrus    the refrigeration
                          of the underpass
          ‘flips the bird'   at the summer blaze
grey dead coral bricks of urination  
seasoned in deep   beading now cold
the broke up weapon                        
                   candy slates of brittle teeth
glass / bottle / beer /brown
    the neck its' hilt              
     and the main mud of the bleeding

the flies are the thing                                
                         th­at bothers my ‘little nipper’
usually a flapper of queries on repetition
no other queries are raised
     just eager for the vibration
      of train carriages gatling over our heads

i stopper any words i may have on the matter
  he holds my hand with his hot hand
we progress under a port arms                                   
                            procession of caged floodlights
      and walled in by fresh graffiti
fingers dripping   retching for the guttering
Observed 23/06/23

unused -

on thickened walls      painted on over and over
by the neighbourhood watch
a  narrowed burrow
abhinav Oct 2023
Imma white strand
underneath that wide band
on your round land
under the heap among profound men
just someone unique, identified from a mile back
*** mild 'attack
seeing me took a step back
thinking me of a **** wack
who isn't like em
I've been cut
I've been dyed
I've died
yet resurfaced just like a lie
screaming at your face dare ******* deny.
sense of individuality and self-acceptance in the face of societal expectations
Phia Oct 2023
Dear fierce,
and little warrior.
The battle you are fighting
will not be won overnight
and your sword is so heavy.
You deserve to put it down;
you deserve to rest.
I wrote this for my friend, but really it's for everyone. It's to people who are fighting their own battles. Who are way harder on themselves than they should be. It's for the people who need to know that it's okay to take some time, it's okay to rest.
Keah Jones Oct 2023
it is said that in the seconds leading to death life flashes before your eyes
but mine didn't

it is said that this disease is a silent killer
but I have never heard a din so loud as the chemicals consume my brain

it is said that 24% of people relapse within the first year

I was a statistic

I wasn't strong enough

but this time
I will not be a statistic
because I am not who I was
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