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dee Feb 14
I want to rip the flesh off of my skin
there's a need to burn the love
that is left lingering in my heart.
I have gone mad.
The percentage of oxygen is going down.
I'm inhaling dejection and I can not let myself exhale.
I've flooded my sheets with tears.
The hallways mimic the sounds of my despair.
I want to dive my hands into my chest
and give my heart a fatal hug.
I wish I could pull the strands of nostalgia out of my brain
from my ear.
If only I could tell my 13 year old self
"love will ruin you, especially in the ways you were not taught"
I thought love was my parents tucking me in bed at when I was 4
or my sister taking me to school every morning
nobody told me it's the universe's biggest set up.
That I am locked in a cage and I'll be 24
still wondering if your eyes look the same
still wondering if your heart still sings the same song as mine.
I wish the love I have for you had conditions.
Rules, regulations.
All I can do is kiss my skin in ways you couldn't.
And put out the fire that burns inside of me.
I have to learn how to breathe all over again.
The rest of my tears seal up the end of this love letter.
I close my eyes and let my head dump everything out.
In the morning I hope it stays empty.
I had writers block, I sat with the feelings instead of painting them out. So held it in until I couldn't, this is the outcome.
Mina Feb 11
The sun is drowning
And the day finally cease
And as the light falls
The night takes from me another piece
But it's ok
What's better than getting close
To the end I always chose
and it's not... getting to Greece
It's ok
the day goes
And i don't care if i overdose
At least i enjoyed it
At least I'm at peace
lol I'm so funny.. sigh...
How We Must Bear With Those,
Possessing An
Origami Mouth;

Folding Their Hate Talk,
Into Decorative Speech

Tell Me, Even As Their
Mouth Speaks,
Does A Chef,
&

Their Own
Recipe Of Lies,

Taste The Deceit On
Their Own Lips;

What More
Their Kiss?

In Palestine where memories fade
A silence a chill fills the air
With tales of heartache everywhere
And hearts laid bare
We honor the lives lost to this evil.
Two Palestinian girls killed and a third child of the same family injured in Gaza City as a result of a concrete wall from a house that was bombed
Elle MB Feb 6
so very long you have haunted me
a wraith of hate
hung in my bones
on my hollowed back
clinging wretchedly
with razor nail thoughts of my failures past
your sly whispers fog me
as a poisoned vapour
seeping into my mind
your vile spectre oozes
with wretchedness and self-doubt

So I breathe deeper
an inhalation of revelation.
Steel myself
to a torrent of queries.
Probing, piercing you
with razor sharp inspection of my various fiascos.
A thrilling rumble strikes me
as a sharp realisation
courses into my intellect.
In my intellect your insanity slowly dissipates
with reality confronting me.

I destroy me by my self-loathing.


Nobody sees me.


So I stand taller.
More solid now.
My ***** spine.
My soaring spirit.
Confronting bravely my past deeds and human errs.
An ignited spark lights me.
Your sinister face slowly fades as my audacity grows.

Beautiful impressions flutter into my soul.

haunt me no longer
hate wraith
it's possible to recover (slowly) from a life of self-hatred, sending hope **
Whence comes daylight,
Comes night far after.

There is no place,
Polished to the pristine.

Even the places you love,
Harbor the unclean.
Even darkness resides in this wonderful place.
it wasn't the way you held me in your arms
it was the way you put your hands around my neck
and pushed me to the ground.

it wasn't how you complimented me
it was how you lied, saying things like 'you'll change.'
and say unnecessarily mean remarks.

it wasn't the way you looked at me
it was the way you sat and watched me wail, sob in pain
and my body shut down multiple times from all of it.

it wasn't the way you cared
it was the way you would never choose my life
over what you want.

it wasn't the way you took care of me while I was sick,
it was the way you did nothing, slammed the trunk of your car
on my head and played video games without an apology.

it wasn't the way you adored me
it was the way you look and comment on my body
more than you look at me and my soul.

it wasn't how all you want is for me to be happy
it was the way you pretended to change
and go back to the same cycle for the millionth time.

it wasn't the way you apologized to me
it was the way you say it with no meaning
or feeling of remorse.

it wasn't the way you paid attention to me in awe
it was the way you never listen or get excited to
hear my stories, but you like to forget what's important to me.

it wasn't the way you loved me
it was the way you enjoy watching me hate myself
more and more.
Archer Feb 1
And I’ll cry harder when they return
You fill my heart with hatred
Hate for you
Hate for how I feel
My feelings of hate
Hate themselves too

And the feelings are textile
And the feelings are nauseating
You filled my head with tears
That you got high off of
B*tch
A Berlin monastic church of blood
shed by true witnesses to freedom’s love:
These few who stood against the flood
of hate from tyrants they rebuffed.

Not far from here, these martyrs were killed
for facing down the brownshirts’ might,
in hopes that all would someday be filled
with the will to live for love’s delight.

Here Mary sits with her holy child,
carved of warm wood, set on cold stone.
She bears an expression, calm and mild,
with nothing around them: alone.

Her robes are daubed in palest blue
while her hair with a golden crown is wed;
her baby son wears redder hues
that foreshadow blood he and his martyrs shed.

This blessèd Mary’s calm defies the fear
decreed by despots in past and present years —
Softly, she whispers her granite will: Defy
all tyranny ’til hate’s tides subside.
Inspired by this Madonna and child statue: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lh7gxj7wr22u

It is to be found in a Catholic Carmelite monastery church in Berlin. It was built in the 1960s to commemorate Christians (both Catholic and Protestant) who were martyred by the Nazis, such as Alfred Delp SJ, Bernhard Lichtenberg, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Helmuth James von Moltke, and others, as well as victims of the Nazis in general.
Tell me, my dear
Do you really hate me?
Or are you just mad that
I opened the Pandora's
Box inside your head?
God knows what you'll find there...
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