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zahra Mar 9
as a children we were taught
that boys were not supposed to "pretty"
they were supposed to be handsome,
manly as well as tough,
and a bit rough around the edges

as a children we were taught
that boys were not supposed to be "pretty"
but as you looked at me
glossy lips stained the color of cherries
and laughed as a child would

the sparkle in your eyes had never faded
a smile playing at your lips, you asked
"but i am pretty, aren't i?"
Johnny walker Feb 17
Will, there be time enough for me to get done whatever Is left for me to  do before this life Is finally through to finish anything
I started there are poems of my wife still I have to write

But when all Is said and done to what will be for me then when my writing Is all done and I cannot write any more to
what will I do them because I live with the fear
of not being able to
write

For writing to me about my wife has become like an addiction a necessary need to write every day If I miss a day feel I've failed just got to write every spare moment

I have In a day total dedication devotion
an undying love for my sweetheart even though she gone I live her, breath her every second of the day she Is In my thoughts

I live for her memory It's the only way I know how to survive In a world I'm no longer happy In I knew the day l lost her my whole world would crumble because she was so ill I'd feared losing her for
years

But tried to push the thought to the back my mind but the eventually the Inevitable happened
and she was gone my whole world gone with
her no fairy tale ending
no sitting together In retirement on a porch watching the sun go down
or watching flying geese across the morning
sky

I'm struggling to comes terms of the loss or maybe
I don't want to perhaps It's that I'm comfortable to live In sadness because at least she still with me If I were to cure grief completely I'd lose her I don't want to do that
Will I have enough time to finish what I started In life
Shame Feb 2
If you die tonight,
which god's gonna save you?

I don't believe in a one.

So, you're telling me
you're God, now? You're nothing.

I don't believe in nothing.
Was there meaning in my birth
besides two ******* twenty somethings
playing at love games?

What's the point of human life
when existence is pointless?

Full potential of the pointed mind,
free as it can be, to discern & decide.

Are you warrior,
or are you peacewalker?

Are those the only options?

It separates us,
angel kin & demon.

Circumstantial evidence.
The urge in your eyes to **** is missing.
If we're drawing those lines in the dirt,
I see love in you.
You don't deify or deny -

- here you killed to serve,
yet we're exchanging words.
The End.

Thank you.
mes Feb 1
Love
is a battlefield
we
are flying arrows
when we hit flesh
and one more soldier is down to the ground
heavily armed with dreadful hopes in hand
dead are they
then alive they become
as their blood are pouring down like milk
as they go down in hysterical laughter
they finally make it
we become merely objects
cutting sharp whoever is on site,  
we don’t know what the **** we are doing.
but who is shooting us at the enemy?
who has sharpened us till we bleed? thrown our strengths in the fire
drown them into the water
‘til our wooden bodies get tired
then break
as they get finished?
chanting at fate’s face
the only thing we have held until that very moment
that once and for all
cheaters conquer the world
good ones make it to the finish line.
I feel like love is not our battle. We participate but it isn’t up to us, it happens without our hands involved. Love is something greater than ourselves.
Amanda Jan 6
Emptiness has built a home I inhabit trapped inside my shell
If I remain here at least I'll make it look a little less like ****
My thoughts form with cohesive structure
Dancing with clumsy pictures that slice and puncture
Do the words I am saying make any sense?
Or are they just ramblings of a mind depressed?
Closing in towards the end of strength and will
The finish line seems further still
No one near cheering me on
As I stumble this one-man marathon
That's life
Meruem Jan 6
Don't mind how you start,
It's how you finish that matters.
January 6, 2019 - 12:37

Keep getting that bread!
Just a short New Year's Wish
Raise a glass and toast the year
Think back now and debate
Another week and it's dusted and done
Goodbye to old two oh one eight

Regardless how it started
And what happened through the year
Celebrate that you're here at the end
And raise a nice cold glass of beer

The Mayans missed about the end of life
And now we've another year to go
A new adventure that will be twelve months long
What it brings, I'm sure that no one knows

So, raise a glass to the end of another long year
And get set to step out once again
I wish you could all have the best year of all
and then multiply all that by ten

Two Oh One Nine could be a year of wonderment
A year that all your dreams come true
It's not predetermined or up in the stars
What you get is all now up to you

So, raise a glass and celebrate that you're still here
And start the New Year off with a smile
A toast to the past and one to what's to come
And let's make it the best year by a mile
Isaac Nov 2018
Compared to most creatures,
Our life on Earth is long.
The question is will we
Live full and finish strong?
Written 12 November 2018
Sombro Nov 2018
I walked among fire
And felt the heat,
The hearth the life,
The world a barren canvas

I took those steps
And found white light my pure feeling
Shared smiling lips amongst ourselves and took on lovers
In feelings we took for each other, bundled
Like reeds so thin

We walked together, arm in arm
Pebbles scattered at our feet in the red dirt,
And thought blood, blood
blood can be our cry from now


We took those days in hand
And led them on
Dried their succulence in the sun
Tasted never
Not for their promise.

And that promise wilted, like so many flowers
Those white lights grew dimmer
As we walked towards them through rushes, our fingers
Spider-like on the veil of what we wanted.

We got there, and saw the light was out
The candle never burned, the feeling never lived
Our eyes for what could be
Wetted with what was
And we lived on in the world of short, long days.
A M Ryder Oct 2018
They say three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead

Secrets could be simple, if they weren't the type worth being spread

You can bury secrets, I'm sure you're shocked to hear it's true.

But dont dream you'll finish digging, until they first have buried you.
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