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Michael Hole Aug 23
I said I'd write a poem for you,
Once I got to know you,
And now, I think that I do.

It took some time for your colours to shine,
But now I'm done, so here,
Let me show you.

You are light as the day,
With no hint of dark,
It's all bunnies, princesses and pink.

You bore me to tears,
Like a bar with no beers,
And you certainly can't handle your drink.

You're the arms-length kind,
A mediocre mind,
Fakeness and lies are your craft.

You flutter your eyes,
Like a sneaky tweety-pie,
And all the boys start acting daft.

It's can't be all bad,
That would be sad,
Of course, there are nice things to say.

I just don't know what they are,
Not those things in your bra,
I've seen bigger **** in ballets.

You do have a nice ****,
Nine out of ten, if I'm asked,
But that means that I'd have to say...

If I'm being true,
The best thing about you
Is the sight of you walking away.
I never gave it to her.
Pulse Aug 7
Covered in love.

Blue and purple, green, black and yellow.

I’m buried in your affections dear,

And they choke me,

clawing at my throat until it’s bloodied and bruised.

You paint a grisly work across my body love,

For what am I to you but a canvas for your twisting violately emotions?

Some days there are kisses,
and others you dip your paintbrush into colours,
that burn and ache across my skin.

And I am small in the face of you and your horrid passion,

I am insignificant and controllable.

And you are an artist of brutality,

You are a lover made up of cruelty.

There is nothing beautiful about your artwork darling,
Just as there is nothing warm in our love.

Where is our love?

Among these savage acts and violent tools,
among the broken, bruised skin?

No, there is no love here.

At least, none that I can find.

I am out of love for you,
And it has been so very long since you last loved me.

So I will try and wash out your paints,
And your coloured loved,
And build myself back up.

You are not my world.

I am my own person.

Do not paint me,
in your **** colours anymore.

I am no canvas of yours.
Katie Jun 29
I wake up in a cold sweat,
My heart is beating fast.
My eyes are squeezed shut,
While My breathing shallows out.
I can picture everything in my mind—
The nightmare of the world
I always said my biggest fear was heights,
Until I met you.
As I lie there stuff as a board,
I wish I could just disappear.
It’s way too hard to be alive,
When the whole world is a nightmare.
I see you face in every crowd,
Your beautiful brown eyes.
I feel your hands around my wrists
As you pinned me down.
When the wind blows just right
In the warm summer breeze,
I feel your breath across my face as you told me not to scream.
I’ve always been a cliche girl—
Blonde hair, blue eyes, a pretty smile.
Afraid of heights, scared of a storm, following the fashion trend.
Well thank you sir for keeping me cliche,
As just another statistic of ****.
Amanda Jun 9
Nothing horrible has happened yet today
Maybe for once things will go my way
My tummy is full and I am in alright health
Now I am ready to start bettering myself
I started using an app called Moodpath today to help me figure out why I have been behaving so crazy these days
Empire Jun 6
See, I don’t want to be loved, do I?
Because if I am loved
There are expectations on me
I have to at least try to be worthy of it
But the darkness is calling my name
And it calls so sweetly
It’s made me promises
Of which I’m sure it can’t fulfill
But it’s so exciting
New and thrilling
To try
However,
As long as I’m loved
I have to show restraint
So watch me push you all away
So you’ll just let me drown myself
In my own blissful irresponsibility
Surrender looks so easy and I’m so tired of fighting...
SeaChel Feb 19
Only four letters
and simply one syllable;
such a dreadful word.
MJL Feb 19
Trapped
Muddy doors shut
Alligator mess nipping
Confined dirt bubble
Air taint
B. O.
Stale fries
****-tox-icity
Sanitizer plans
Stabber-jibber-jabber
You expect a tip
We have different tips in mind
Spicy no-star to go
Uber sad
Shlomo Jan 18
And…it’s here. A future. Agile? I was not enough to be.

Black in it’s entirety. A new beginning and a new ending.

Clockwork. As though a plan hatched by some supreme being.

Dear dog, which came first? Was it the white or the black?

Either way, it effortlessly taints your profoundly glorious genes.

**** this! Atrocious. Drugs?!

Goodness me. How did we get to this?

Horrible, dehumanising, and it’s here to stay.

“Suppresses”. But really only in the mildest of ways.

As if to constantly remind you of the control you once had.

Now ceded in it’s entirety to a tad bit of fad.
https://anchor.fm/shlomotion/episodes/A-G-e2vrkn
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