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Xant Sep 2019
The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored
My high school friend who had a dysfunctional family told me that she would never want to go home ever again.

She sees her family as what was beautiful, now sorrowful.

I could only imagine how her sweet childhood memories (re: yellow brick road) had turned bitter (re: red from blood).

And this poem, I dedicate it to her.
I wish her happiness :)
fraudelle Sep 2019
If you don't want me to be with
You can still walk beside me...
I can sing you a song
That will end with nothing...

I just want to say

I won't stop on reaching you
Even sands won't allow me...

I can wait during fall... Spring even winter.

All I want is to be remembered...

In this coming summer.
Boundaries
C H A T A N T May 2019
A misunderstood soul
With many complications
Walking a steady pace
Into the darkness
Nisha Fatima Jan 2019
Kneeling down on this filthy floor,
Filthy with guts and audacity,
In the hands of every form but me,
While im here still dreadfully desperate for an ally,
But social interaction, though I covet for it a lot,
Its still unendurable to liaise,
With all psyche and be extant,
Except the unseen ethos,
That i seek answers from at night.
©inkedsolace
Andrew Rueter Jan 2019
I’m unraveling
In a grave gravelly
Light speed traveling
From the judge gaveling

They’re trying to persecute me
Like it’s their divine duty
Like desperate pigs rooting
For their rejuvenating truffles
In my dying screams muffled
By the executioner’s muscle

I’m paranoid
And it’s not the ****
I stare into the void
That makes me bleed
Only to see
Humanity
Staring back at me
With ****** teeth

I maintain my vitality
By matching their morality
Conforming infallibly
To society around me

They try to peek through my window
Every time the wind blows
So I keep the lights dimmed low
To cover my sin’s glow
And quietly tiptoe
Through the big show

They see through my disguise
And start to despise
They ask me to die
And I ask them why
Have I hurt a fly?
If they hate me so much
Why don’t they **** me?
Instead of avoiding my touch
With abandonment chilling

I can smell death in the air
When they say life isn’t fair
Before they try to not care
And attack me on a dare
After many hateful stares
From their disdainful lair

God uses pain to teach
So they use pain to preach
Giving me grief
Over the life I seek
So my eyes will leak
As the sky turns bleak
From lies to the meek

My sins I confess
As an SOS
To bless my mess
Despite its pests
Of demonic tests

God doesn’t answer
He has forsaken me
Giving me cancer
He has mistaken me
For someone who gives a ****
My wrists He’ll slit
If He feels it fits
So why match wits
With almighty spit?
Sean Devlin Oct 2018
This time I feel more than nothing
some curiosity and a want to be near you
that runs deeper than those surface charms

Her soothing voice, I could listen to that purr
until I lay myself in the grave
Digging holes deeper than her soul
though not as misplaced
There was a gracefulness in the way her crooked
mouth spit out the words
"If god exists, the curse has been cast upon me"
In that moment I wanted to devour her like a rogue wave
rushing towards a beachside village
a hunger so old and archaic my roots were
twisting themselves
in the comfort
of possible disaster

With her teeth gnashing against my bones
Her skinny legs entwined in mine
My mouth pressed against the heartbeat in her neck
I wanted to drown in this fever between our bodies

"If god has forsaken you, I will crush the ******* into a powder"

She didn’t hear me, deep asleep, finally
finding peace as the dreams come and go
with her head against my chest, breathing me in
until there was nothing left

These daydreams stab through the veil of my solitary safety
Wake me from this madness, I’ve been here before
Way Rest Jul 2018
the world is there,I
am here—
a puzzle-piece which doesn't
fit anywhere

I read a book once
it said— "To get ahead in life,you gotta break some eggs."
so I did

I cut my edges to take a different shape
to fit in a certain set
it hurt, but I wanted to get ahead
and so I broke some eggs

I fit in, slid in like I was
not a separate piece but
a part of the whole from
the very beginning

yet only then did I notice
that I was of a different colour
than the rest of the pieces

so I was kicked out
but I wasn't gonna give up

I plunged myself in
a paint can—
and assumed a different colour
I broke some eggs

I fit in perfectly
yet only then did I realize
that I was made
of a different material
than all the rest

I was kicked out
cut, drenched in alienness
wet, by the roadside gutter

only then did I see
a puzzle set
of the colour
of my hidden flesh
of the material
of my own bones
with a missing piece— the shape
of my old self

yet I was alien to them
to the whole world
to me

I broke myself
NOW
I once wrote a list of things
That represented me :

Smoke from a discarded cigarette,
Rain on the Ocean,
A saturday matinee.

I wrote that I was a penny
On a train track, waiting.

             ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Well guess what, folks-
The engine  has arrivd.
        ljm
THIS IS A REVISION.  I was a lot younger when I wrote the first part...trying to figure out who I was - I listed a lot of things that I thought represented me.  Now, I add the coda to those thoughts as my world comes crashing down around me.
Poetic T May 2018
The stars are better off
                    without us.
Not mourning our final
                   screams
              in to censorship.

We voice confusion from
             our snow globe,
            ready for it to be forsaken .
Shattering the existence
            that was never meant to birth.

"Silence is wondrous when we never hear it coming"
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