Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Z Feb 2019
20
blue light emergency
try to rewrite my circuitry
try to tell me not to run

so heartily and heartless
their burgundy catharsis
they get em when they're young
Pauline Morris Feb 2019
The walking dead in the land of the living
Soulless eyes and hearts unforgiving

They seek to destroy
******* out your joy
Shatter your skull
Make your mind dull

Rip out your heart
That's just the start
Dead set eyes
You'll never relize
Till it's to late 
Your heart they ate

Breathing remains
Nothing else the same
Now hollow of feeling
Soul was sent reeling

Some don't know
Out of them life flowed
We're all missing parts
Mostly the heart
Also gray matter
Obscenities spatter

Growing in number
Pillage and plunder
All must be fed
Living in the land of the dead..

©Pauline Morris
staysha Dec 2018
Darkness
Is evil
It is completely Heartless
It is young yet medieval
With its torture and death
It steals the babys soul
Before it takes its first breath
Its arms the color of coal
Death’ s door step closer then you thought
Darkness is immortal it will NEVER die
It is everywhere even in your hiding spot
You thought you could hide from its eye
The only escape
Is for your life to end
Make a noose from a drape
Right a note to a friend
And push the chair under the noose
While darkness snickers silently
Put the noose on make sure it is not to loose
Soon you begin to sob violently
But the darkness whispers in your ear
You deserve this
NoOne wants you here
Then moves away with a hiss
As you kick away the chair
And you hang dangling by your neck
With little to no hair
You vision gets blurry and then is but a speck
Your breath painful
Your mind filled with darkness
You know this is baneful
But it closes in with starkness
That is just DARKNESS
darkness part 2
staysha Dec 2018
Darkness Is perfect
It is completely Heartless
It does not reflect
It does not care
When you die
It has no “cross” to bare
Do you think it would cry?
1 of a 2 part poem
Kate Dec 2018
I am cold.
But everyone says
You just need to get past my walls,
I am a warm person deep down.
They see what they want to but
I am cold as ice inside.
People will tell you
I have a sensitive side but
Hardly anyone sees.
What I truly am inside,
A heartless monster.
Still, my peers think they know
I am really a big softy.

Now read it bottom to top.
I tried to write this a while ago but ended up just going off on a rant instead so here is my newer version of that poem.
Rose Oct 2018
What a thing a man is
Our culture tells you who to be
As if thats some excuse
You feel all high and mighty
You wish for all the suitors at your door
But you will never pick just one
We are mere objects in your lust filling dreams

Well i have had enough
I no longer wish to just be a body to you
Curves and edges all yours to touch
I am a soul deeper than the movies you watch
I am a loving you do not deserve
Men, this is not for all of you. Just some of you. This is an angry woman sitting at  her desk, releasing his hold on her. Don't take offense to another mans idiocy.
Stark Oct 2018
Thousands poured into the Great Hall
Waiting
In this haunted, empty room
For something to happen

Nobody sat upon the throne
But order still remained
Maybe it was in the fear
That left them silenced

The throne was industrious
All blunt, sharp lines
Of cold, heartless steel
Fogging up as the peoples’ breaths brushed it

No heat in this desolate hall
Only people’s nervous, frantic heartbeats
Echoed through the room
Marking their place as prey

Footsteps followed
Each step
A quick, sudden staccato
Steady with every beat

The people spun around
Looking for the one that approached them
But there was
No one

Anxiety wrecked through the large hall
Rebounding off of the delicate stone arches
Sailing across the cracked, concrete floor
Filling everyone’s bodies with dread

The footsteps stopped
And their leader materialized onto his cold throne
His gaze held no emotion as he crossed his legs, staring at his people--
Who returned his glare with downturned lids

He bore a crown of silver
Glittering with the madness
Atop a thick forest of black hair
That you could get lost in

His eyes were a dark stormy blue
Appraising his guests
His people
That lay scattered across the hall

A slender frame
Overshadowed by a black velvet cape
And a white collared shirt
Pure of the injuries that he had wronged others

Form fitting grey pants slung tightly over his hips
Along with a matte hand pistol
Further accentuated by his knee high leather boots
That shined with the sweat of a thousand shoe polishers

He was their dictator
They were his people
With a snap
They rose to meet his commands

Without him, they were nothing

He called for disease
Infection spread rampant
the sick fell at his feet

He called for war
The clanging of swords broke out
And wet, hot blood began to coat the slick ground

He called for famine
Hunger gnawed away at the empty, acidic stomachs of the starved
Many fell, glazed eyes betraying their desire for food

He called for death
And suddenly the survivors fell
Only a hundred of the thousand had been left
To die at his feet

The hall was empty of all souls
But one
His

He commanded all that his people could give
And left with nothing to bear
But a single throne
Of cold steel
And an bare skyscraper
With a single, Great Hall
Next page