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Ashley S Sep 26
Who knows why you finally did it?
The pain of living felt worse than death.
So decisive and certain you were.
A gun's swift act took your last breath.

I hope you have peace in the life beyond.
So young yet your pain had grown too great.
Did you not know there's still so much hope?
Could no one soothe the wounds in your heart?

Now I work to keep your body alive.
Your soul has long left its source of pain.
I watch your parents sit and weep,
Crying to have their child back again.

Would you have done it if you knew what came after?
For your family, the picture will always stay fresh.
Your face unrecognizable to those who knew you.
Your skull a mutilated mass of flesh.

Yet still there is hope at the end of this nightmare.
Others may find life through your demise.
Each ***** a lifeline for a soul in the balance.
But that does not comfort your parent's cries.

Do I sob in grief or rejoice in new life?
As I continue to keep a body working.
I feel the weight of the duty I carry.
The guardian of both the end and beginning.

I wish you and your family all comfort and peace.
I go home and leave the work behind.
But I could never forget what I saw in these days.
The sights and smells have their place in my mind.
Processing...A mix of heartbreak and hope.
Dahlia Sep 23
Short, fast, rough
Lick, **** ****

Tell me you want it
Put on a show
Make me feel good
So I can let go

All my inhibition,
All of my fear,
it all goes away
the moment you appear.

Push me down, lift me up
Whisper ***** little secrets
That no one else can hear

Slow it down, speed it up,
moan out your sound

It ends so soon and you slip away,
quicker than you arrived,
faster than you came.

Lick, ****, ****, leave

Hardly even worth it
is this too much?
Hello Daisies May 16
If you've never been molested
If you think it's no big deal
If you think it's the victims fault
If you think we're just attention seekers

Just know this
I've been dead since I was a child
I can't recall who I was
Or who I ever will be
I can't feel anything
I'm completely empty

I see shadows
Of monsters and demons
I pray to a god I may not believe in
I can't trust anyone
Not even my own family

I block out my memories
Only to bleed through my dreams
I can't breathe if someone touches me
I'm shaking endlessly
I'm unable to love

I can't be loved
It was taken from me
When their hand went into me
I was broken
By a man who got sympathy

Where's my sympathy?
Where's my healing
Where's my it's not your fault
They gave it to him
Let him sin
With a grin
While I'm here
Into darkness

I only let monsters hold me
I'm afraid of the light
I'm disgusting and it's always my fault
How everything went wrong

I'm so sorry
That you're disgusting disgrace
Touched my innocent face
Forced me into a shadow
Peeled my skin from me
Shed me into insanity
I looked so cute in my bathing suit huh

And noone ever came
They never stopped it
Always ignored
Always devoured
So please understand
I will never heal
I will never deal
And I will continue to peal
Until my body dies
Along with my soul
Quarentine has my trauma raised up and I have been denying it this entire time but I guess it's really hitting me tonight
Alex Soders Mar 18

A wasteland of desire,
Capsule of pathetic.
What happened to love?
I was the cupid seed.

Then never a boy, O grumpy soul!
For I grew I an adult of empty.
A stale, wilted rose,

A cactus amidst a lily pond
Dry and arid as another life.
And a simple gesture to topple it all,
A single scream, an unanswered call.

Such irony could dazzle a cynic,
If not so melded with fear,
If not so picturesque and pretentious,
Lone actor without a stage,
The bloodbath of a Hamlet night.

Lay shut the soliloquy now,
Lamentations and red curtain days.
Several succubus letters,
My little bag of demons.

The children they throw colors on me,
Red, blue, that defiling purple,
They clamour me like a sick joke,
Such fury! That beguilling hush.

Never an eye for detail,
But a method rigid as a *****
And a seemless pattern of nothing.
The answer is to never ask a question.

A diamond in the rough?
Never! Too short to be a gemstone.
And shine less an emerald,
Sick quintessence of a broken heel,

Four nurses to play my dreary song,
A tabla, tone deaf and perfect
My soul most ever a banshee,
A dust sister, prophecy friend.

I don't want this poem to end,
When I write I feel alive.
Oh to have control! To be a liar!
Never will I know such a fallacy!

I'm flying now,
One nozzle up and I'll expand.
Sudden right turn into oblivion,
The pilot and his seventh heaven.

My reflection in the clouds,
The stewardess and her prophecy carts,
She's pounding now,
Come closer! O rabid dog!
One more step, one more lost cause.
I roll, roll, roll,

Retreat ocean! Make me an effigy!
If I plunge a knife in my heart
And wake up again
Will I see a new life?
Will I see a new me?
Oh no, but I'm very empty inside
The knife would just
Find its way out free
MisfitOfSociety Aug 2019
You were so close to me.
Every heart beat pumped you closer to me.
But you were just poison being injected in.
I tore my heart out before it could beat again.

We stretched the horizon,
Our pallet decorated the sky,
For one sweet moment it was just you and I.
Your sunshine kissed my closed eye lids.
Even when they were closed you still managed to seep through,
I couldn’t escape the image of you.

But you set in that sun,
And never rose again.
You took the warmth with you,
After all you put me through.

It is painful to feel you.
What was once petals is now thorns.
Bleeding me from every pour,
But you don’t seem to care at all.

You handed me a revolver,
And urged me to pull the trigger.
It was hard for me to tense my finger,
But you convinced me that this was for the better.
Ronnie Feb 2019
Never ask a poet what they think
about the things that matter.
They will not give a definite answer
for their hearts tend to ache
somewhat too severely
and even then some things
are better left unsaid
in a black and white world
where any shade of grey is a crime
somewhere over the rainbow
in a place where it is the safest
to not be there at all
or else you are certainly the one to blame
even if the lace is buried deep within
your overwhelming guilt and shame
hidden under all the what ifs and pleats
and somewhere deeper yet
there is the quietest of voices
too afraid to speak of the bruises
left on the inside of her thighs
and within her heart
the voice of reason that tells you
please don’t walk down that alley
keep your friends close
and the keys in your hand closer
keep your head up high
and your hopes down low
or whatever else makes sense
in this dog eat dog world
where everything you will ever know
will be shredded and recycled
oh, if only
to be crushed into a pulp
and spoon-fed to another generation
diluted with careful consideration
into a day-in day-out nine to five
not even a cog in the machine
a ***** at best
and you will be *******
tightened up more and more
until you can’t hold it together
and whatever it takes
falls apart into pieces
broken glass on the asphalt
a hole in the wall
that sinking feeling
where a soul should be
but the angels don’t visit anymore
or answer our prayers
the line is always busy
there is always something else
something more important
a bullet in the bible
escalating into emergency
but who is out there for the unarmed boy
dying on the sidewalk
misjudged for the colour of his skin
who is out there to stop the hand of a father
suspended in mid-air
with the children cowering at his feet
who is out there for the American dream
turning into a global nightmare
who can tell the pending future
staring down the barrel of the gun
wondering which side you should be on
and what of that which you call freedom
only to trade it for martyrdom
what of candour and justice
and their antonymous nature
what of the artists and the poets
and everyone else that took a shot
but didn’t even come close
living in a daydream
playing from the same broken record
telling us that there is meaning
and there is worth in the things we do
except that from time to time
the needle would skip
distorting the vision
and at times like these
it’s the easiest to look away
for every scratch on the surface of reality
encourages you simply to
pull the trigger

I will not, I refuse
to let this get the best of me.
The pen is a blade. I slit my wrist
and pour my heart out onto the page
instead. This is a sacrifice
I am willing to make.
I will tear myself apart
on my own terms.
If I cannot do it myself,
who else will?
My most recent poem for my university class, inspired by the likes of Baraka and Ginsberg. Prompt given to us was "protest poetry".
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