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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...
zoe Jan 22
If ever one nation were two, then we.
If ever man loved his **** friends, thee;
If ever this empire’s fall began,
It shall fall faster with thee, worthless man.
Despair in the streets as thy henchman stands,
Saluting tyranny with bloodied hands.
Thy greed is such that leaves our nature bruised,
In this waltz thou called Earth to, She refused.
Thy hate is such thou canst no way repay
The families destroyed, lives cast away.
But while we live, let our love persevere
That soon thou live no more, and we shall cheer.
I originally wrote a parody of Anne Bradstreet's "To My Dear and Loving Husband" about a more realistic perspective on marriage in the 17th century. But it soon became something else. It was clear to me where all the anger I was channeling came from.
War
Forever a war

Between two souls

Who never meant to hurt each other

Who lost their minds long ago



They yelled and screamed

And got lost in the fight

Their nations fell

And they came crashing down together



(Together they fall)



(Together they fall)



(Together they fall)
Took forever and i couldnt think of anymore so i guess this works
You took my light away

And let me stumble in the darkness

Why do you do this to me

I asked you to stop

But you dragged me back

Kicking and screaming all the while

I’m drowning in the flood

That you created
Part of the writing challenge, guess i was still angry
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