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Watch the silent fire,
Watch me scorch my battered heart,
Ashes cannot burn.
Naoki B Dec 2018
Gifts of belief, the fuel for power
Old men bicker while the young suffer
Defiled minds march their society to slaughter
Essence Collins Dec 2018
My creativity is haltered,
i'm stuck on a continuous train
I could stop if my brain would kick in and find a exit or a object to throw in front of it
but its stuck moving,thoughts over thoughts thrown away down they go, down the drain.
I don't even think twice I know its not good enough for them I ask why, why isn't it good enough for them?
i'm running low on fuel, im drained and my creativity is on the floor stomped all over by people I don't know,
I scream for them to stop,
The train came to a halt
  I got off it was the final stop no more room for me I was empty and useless and no good for society.
but when I got off others did too. They pleaded that I bring back what I once had i cannot i stopped the train for some kind of acceptance I was on my knees for people who didn't know me
and yes I was begging for them to show affection
They are strangers, not friends not family but there criticism seemed more important to me. its what the people want
not me.
Were forever stuck on the train of
thought.
Xallan Dec 2018
Poetry is a food, a fueler, a filler
Of that emptiness we hope to resolve
Words are a chemistry, a balance, an equation
For nutrition of our nonexisting soul
Words- we take, we bake, we fill
Ourselves too full, we are gluttons
Sticky letters dissolve to
Nonsense,  and hang off our tongue,
Always dripping, never falling
I began this movement, this culinary labratory
Where we mix chemicals together to
Create two-dimensional poisons of ecstacy
Lost in our minds, on our lips, savoring
Every drop-
For the mischievous wind
The game is on
And there are no checks

It was ruffling my hair
Casually touching my skin
Comforting me
And giving me pleasure
But now it threatens
To blow away my breath

It will not **** me I know
It has kept me alive
I cannot embrace the wind
I will allow it to play with me
And keep a watch
Over my ambles and jogs
It fuels my fires
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2018
On 1st meet
Being silent
She let them to talk

They spent most time
Talking,
About war
About arsenals
About win and loss
About strength
About tears
All about blood

On 3rd meet
It was a different story
She heard, they were talking
About roses
About peace
About love
All about life

On 2nd meet
She spoke
They listened
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: Children Of War
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

The blood in the bottle usurped
the blood in my veins
I love you I burped
but it was in vain

You're drunk again
why do you cause this pain
it's fuel for my pen
and I cannot abstain

I guess I am weak
with no self control
with a future so bleak
and a shriveled dried soul

It fills the page
can't you see,
it fills your rage
and that's fine with me

Today you left for good
so I bought a new notebook
and a bottle of wormwood
laid out in a small nook

Watch as these pages like feathers
fly off in the wind
lets get back together
so I can do this again
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
I was asked,
Any addiction?

I replied,
No lie

Here I’m
Addicted to
Breathing
Genre: Clinical Abstract
Theme: Fuel Of Life
Karisa Brown Aug 2018
She ran on empty
far too long
She kneeled
At the alter of creativity
And began to write
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