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What’s so good about the stars?
Like humans, they live and die.

But at least the burnt-out stars
Look better than the bones of our dead;

The dead who claim to ‘die for us,’
And rise again just like the sun.

Galaxies expand all the time,
And so I hope our minds.

Call the black holes in our space,
The sockets in our eyes.
Not even a poem, ngl.
Hi, I haven’t been on here in a while...
Ashlyn Yoshida Feb 2020
To what extent have we followed the dreams of mortal men? Conjuring the images of glass and metal, bending it to our will.
All the while destroying the world of plants and wood.
And yet-
These religions tell us that the End will be brought by deities and demons. It seems as if to say we are the demons, as when the world of green dies, so will we as punishment for mass consuming and wasteful manners.
So we will die

But it's too late to stop now, it's already the middle of the ending.
My Biology teacher brought up a good point a few months ago that has stayed with me for a while.
Mitch Prax Feb 2020
Why do I still crave
validation from people
who I've never met?

7:10 PM
18/2/20
David E Francis Feb 2020
one: space

for how do you put a god in a box
where he creates nothing
sees nothing
and has no voice?

two: women

for how can you put stone into water
and not expect its dirt
to shame its strength?
Space and women is simply a summary of things that can make me hate myself. One, for being dared to do nothing while I have lots to do. Two, for seeing how another human can reveal my blemishes.
Kora Sani Feb 2020
i've felt your arms around me before;
many times at that,
only pulling you close
when i was afraid that you'd leave

but only once or twice
would i call it a hug
and it's not because i didn't want to,
believe me, i did
but the touch of another human
startles me most,
when i see that it's coming

allowing myself
to be intertwined in another's arms
sends my body into a battle with euphoria
having to decide;
am i trapped
or am i free
David E Francis Feb 2020
before these buttons strolled

by fingers
or legs
that look like one...

people switch their bones
and lick each others' flesh

they ask questions
as to why nails aren't pink
when it isn't

they laugh
when ****
isn't as loud
as the ones from horses

before these tabs came
it was the sky
that enjoy stares
as if eyes know
battles between busy stars

before these batteries came
people sit too close
to warmth from fire
while their teeth

enjoy the silence
that munch meals
just before bed time
alone
very alone.
I am thinking this poem of mine is an investigation into whether we have lost the things that made us whole. What should we blame it on? Us or the idea of us? I simply used the phone to check this thought of mine out.
With the end coming,
You can taste the bittersweet love
Of the Angel's blood that is in the Air

We all see the blood that is on the ground,
Both Human, Angel, and Demon,
with the destruction of both heaven and hell and everything inbetween. It's all over now.
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