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Jacob Lyons Sep 2024
Who knew how much dust collects when the room hasn't been occupied since the town lost comfort?
Like going down a nostalgic street and finding not one mom and pop shop survived the wreckage
Like finding the remnants of your childhood through damaged wood holding familiar sunsets
I wish I could tell you why I came back, and I wish it meant things got better, or even clearer
I guess the truth on why I haven’t found any new answers, is I stopped asking old questions  
And for the time being, I got hold on how much weight drinking can crush your bones
And every sip is another joint waiting to crumble; every sip is another mistake to leave me humbled
I really wish I could fully grasp the reason I approached writing the way I used to
Maybe that person had a better idea on what to do.
first poem in a few years.
Heavy Hearted Jul 2024
sometimes,
The time it takes
to curate a reality
Where
The eyes of a hostile reflection
Don't contribute to, but consume-
the moment's prison of littleness...
Is it not possible?
To escape eternity's hour's ceaselessness?
Hope,
is too short;

we perpetuate-
it takes shape.
we preform,
then placate.
I'll jus leave this here...
Elymaïs Dec 2020
Welcome to a Taco Tuesday
With the Boys from Outer Space
It is Such a Weird Delight
To Acquaint the Human Race

If you Listen you will Hear
That the Lions now give Chase,
And ****** the Revolution,
That Ignites upon the Wastes
english is a weird language
Taylor Mar 2020
I've reached the edge and now it's time to say goodbye
but it's not really goodbye forever just for now
I love you my darling
Goodbye
i wrote this poem years ago but I've been adding onto it and taking away it the poem is just its been in my head so enjoy seeing in my head even for a brief moment and maybe it will help you understand more. xoxoxo
inspired from this "Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away. And going away means forgetting. -J.M Barrie
Sage Jan 2020
grasping at my supple shoulders, applying your veined, snow hands, you haul me from enfolding infirmity
2017
W Winchester Nov 2019
She was an empty girl with worlds on her arms
Swirling, shifting, kaleidoscope dreams

She was a quiet girl with tears in her eyes
Dripping, blossoming, nourishing streams

She was a strong girl with blood on her hands
Slipping, chafing, encouraging pain

She was an important girl with jewels in her crown
Shining, glistening, cavalier fame

In her stream of consciousness
falling, falling, falling, falling

Until all that was left was an empty corpse
white, dry, draining life
freewrite
Diana Apr 2019
My movements were eternally not my own
My distinctions, decisions, discrepancy,
Also not my own.
The creation or establishment of a newborn,
Covertly an awaiting infection of control and scare.
Because only a newborn had nothing to fear of this world or district.

I fear the air, the sun,
I cannot trust the outside,
I belong far from fear.  
How must I walk if it’s controlled?
Do I march or run?
Do I look up at the sky or close my eyes in terror?
Do I engulf the fear like a sharp knife or let it eat me up instead?
Not knowing will do both.

I’m writing here because it’s my own words,
Not a speech or sharing of my gospel.
It’s a sin to my kind,
But I am not like that kind.
Please allow my independence hidden,
I can't stand the scare.
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