I see in perfect circles
rings darkening my eyes
I rest in perfect slumber
while beneath starry skies

I turn in perfect anguish
so perfect my aches
I live in perfect numbness
feeling nothing but the breaks

I wish in perfect prayers
to each and all the gods
I wail in perfect outrage
while I'm up against the odds

I think in perfect madness
never feeling like I'm here
I smile in perfect detachment
hoping I might disappear

I'm feeling imperfect
perfectly stuck
knee deep in the mud
down in on my luck
if im just a weak
if it makes you 'awake'
alexxa 5d
fall in love with me.
settle down with me.
explore with me.
love with me.
cry with me.
hurt with me.
grieve with me.
heal with me.
be with me.
hold me.
kiss me.
discover me.
sing with me.
read with me.
learn me.
understand me.
accept me.

and if you do, i will

fall in love with you.
settle down with you.
explore with you.
love with you.
cry with you.
hurt with you.
grieve with you.
heal with you.
be with you.
hold you.
kiss you.
discover you.
sing with you.
read with you.
learn you.
understand you.
accept you.

and we can fall in love with us.
Sombro 7d
What orange bosoms

Can you press to yourself

Prised out a candied tube?

What lice make thoughts creep

And hands run down stockings?

What time spent brainless,

Hoping for a life outside riches

Growing into a chair?

What losing streak

Paints your face, sorry?

What can we talk about

That isn't hopeful,

That asks true questions?

What can I say

of big arses on fat girls

and big biceps on vain men?
eissman Mar 9
As writers,
we daydream & hope & love & regret.
But a majority of my writing has to do with a girl.
I try so hard to fill my head
with thoughts of Her
in hopes that one day they will become reality.
Her perfection can't be depicted by mere words.
There's so many ways I wish to gain Her love
through the workings of my writing.  
I write in hopes to work myself into Her heart.
Weaving words and phrases together
So tender & genuinely,
just as tender and genuine
as Her.
Kamryn Riona Mar 8
I envied the cadavers haunting my nightmares,
watching those before me
spread upon a metal slab
bodies are hand-me-downs of regurgitated poetry,
with wretched closets in which I take their place.

This ventilator called "loved ones"
forcing breath into anguished lungs-
tragedies belonging to these poets meant something,
a desire to save the words written,
but never the one who becomes a eulogy.

Agony burrows inside of me,
conversations with my mother's ghost
the living are possessed by
the dead's shortened tomorrows.

To die by suicide wouldn't give,
authenticity to hurt.

I am learning the autopsy of a soul:
extracting a heart from the chest,
as it's sense of belonging was never there.
An inability to weigh the words bleeding from valves,
aside lungs I'm unable to breathe through.

How ungrateful is it of sorrow to ask for hope?
placed in a pill divider to swallow,
muscles within my throat so tight.
How many times did I diminish my voice?

Inside the brain,
schematics of labyrinths with no end to betterment.
Surgeons reach for a soul,
an iridescence small enough
held in a gloved palm,
watching it writhe.
Placed upon a slide,
but even a microscope
cannot perceive the pain a soul hides.

Once more,
stitched with needle and thread.

Wilting of my own garden,
comes one day-
an incision is made opening me up.
My heart showed the same
blood-red ink, writing apologies
on the marble floor.

They opened my arm,
displaying a noose of veins.
In this moment,
they removed my soul
only to gift it to another
birthed from torment
ripped out of the arm's of their mother
& into the embrace of woe.
Hopefully, it makes sense.
Andre Flint Mar 7
Peace and Love
From high above
or way below
I see a hole
That leads to needs
I blew some trees
I lost some hope
Bought some rope
Can't take this crap
The grass is damp
It's light out
I'm dark inside
Fake deep
I see the sheep
In all the town
Less smiles .. more frowns
No blue .. just grey
A dog ..its stray
No will to live
No hope to give
Love and peace
Thee I rest in
You are the reason can't you see?
I am begging you please stop crushing me
I am so tired of this
I can't remember the last time I woke up feeling ready for the day
I must let you go
you don't even want to stay

This is unhealthy and I know it so why am I always coming back?
I thought I was stronger than this but I guess I was wrong I am just a hopeless wreck

I think I fell for the idea of you and I find it hard to believe that the things I thought about you were just a beautiful lie, my deepest wishes projecting onto you
Now all that's left for me is to cry
SwordNPen Mar 7
I used to think i was a hopeless romantic
but now I'm just hopeless ..
Wyatt Mar 6
I feel as I have every single day,
a smile is the opposite of what's inside.
Years forever buried down under the trenches,
a bittersweet feeling with no other witness.
It's hard being broken
and thrown to the waste-side.
When I laugh, only then
is when I start to realize
the monster I've nurtured up inside.
A never-ending heap of chaos
is what I feed off of in these silent nights.
Hone all of it's skills, breathe in the grim.
A flower wilts, a storm fills to the brim.
The truth I need sounds inside your voice?
Well I wish I could hear it.

I'm so afraid because there isn't another choice.
I'm sitting idle, because there isn't a hint of trust.
Apparently a place of peace is asking way too much.
I wake in panic, can't search for escape
when my body's under pressure.
Won't survive at this rate,
I realized way too late,
there are no other measures.
There is no place of return,
no easy lessons to learn,
there is no place of peace here.
This world is destined to burn,
there's no where to turn,
we all live in fear.
How can you sleep at night,
how can you reserve the right
to judge all of my fears?
They're proven every day,
all these messages relay
that there is no hope here.
It's a pointless race, it's a stagnant face,
it's a waste of hurt, it's a flood of tears
poured out to the masses.
It's a march of maggots, it's way too tragic,
and it's as far as my eyes can see.
It's said that a march of maggots takes place in an empty city street, there nothing can be heard. These deafening screams are made in an attempt to draw attention to an issue. Which one? It will never be known, because these bodies were blind and deaf. Nothing is felt, nothing is gained. There is no love, there is no hate. When you think about it, the shrieks that are made might as well have never taken place.
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