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I'm going to tell you, a story of a girl.
Her name douse not matter, she is lost to the world.
She cried out with the rain.
Everyone she talked to knew she was not the same.
When they asked her, she said she was fine.
But when they turned their backs, she cried all the time.
Only one person knew, how bad she really was.
She held the girl and cried with her.
And said it was all rite.
One day the girl could take no more.
She had lost her fight.
But her friend called to wish her good night.
when she said she was fine, she hured how lost was her fight.
The friend hured her friends voice that broke.
Knew the girl had broken he faith.
And rushed over a moment to late.
The girl hung up the phone.
She stud up on her chair.
And saw the headlights racing up.
But se had said her good byes and had enough.
A moment to late her friend pushed open the gate.
And ran up trying to save.
She ran calling out her friends name.
But inside she knew it was to late.
As she opened up the door.
Her hear broke she fell on the floor
The girl hung her stereo playing her friends favorite song.
She loved her dear friend, and never wished their friendship an end.
But now her friend was gone
She had hung their for long.
At home her mother avoided her broken daughter.
And her dad all but forgot her.
She looked out at the moon.
And felt like a ghost now.
She played the dead friend her favorite song.
And put the rope around her neck.
She felt abandon, she felt broken.
And to the pearly gates.
He dead girl did make, and she meat her friend but it wasn't like it had bean.
he friend wisent all the way dead
So the girl told her o go back home and said she was whir she belonged to.
That she only meant to do this to herself
and that she never meant to make her friend hate herself
So she closed her friends eyes
and said her goodbyes
she sent her back to continue her fight.
So far the ground appeared
never thought I would see again.  
World seems so much nicer
from afar.

All it took was one sparkle
from one star.  
Clouds swept through
and through--
a transparent bloodstream
casting me into delirium,
dancing the sky
carelessly.

But flight isn't my course,
I cline with
the wind's will
and wisp.  

This descent
all too familiar.  
I will not return to
what grips me down,
that which grips us all.  

Let this coming clenching
have but one final victim:
My breath.
Allow my exhale
to rise in its departure
so it may stay
lost in the cloud,
a haven I forever seek.
Initial draft.
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
I've awoken now.
Quite down little birds.
My mind muddied and blurred.
Where am I now and how..
Did I get here?
Rusty, still turning on like that old junker that'd never start first time.
Memories mysty drips and drabs of last night.
Unshaven from days ago.
Dirt and blood laced aftershave.
Was it one night or a week, maybe they blended together.
The nights are the worst they always bring the day.
Recoil finding myself all over again.
It's Thursday.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.

You took the bottle, you drank it away.
You spit out words like a knife and meant it in everyway.

Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.

14 drinks and a thousand words, 14 years I'll never outgrow.
You took the bottle, but you took a soul. You took my soul, you took my heart.
You treated my heart like it was a game of darts and you rung the bulls-eye with no regret.

Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.

The night you took a soul, was the night you took my hope.
The same night I gave up and took that rope, I took that rope and clung to death.

Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.

You took my soul and now I'm gone.
You took my hope and left me with that rope.
You took that bottle and chose it over me, you took that chance and now you see...your little girl will never be because she took her life the night that you took another drink.

Another bottle...gone.
Another soul...forgotten.
Another ghost...created.
Another ghoul...forbidden.
Constructive Criticism ONLY please.
Hang me like the sun,
A never ending light
Illuminating the sky,
Yet never questions why.

Hang me like the stars,
Floating with no demise
Holding on until they realize
All the questions are just lies.

Floating like the summer skies,
Nearing them just to die
An unconventional lullaby,
Is the last thing floating through the skies,
Only one request remains , that's why
I want to be hung in the sky,
Hung like the sun,
A never ending light
Illuminating the sky,
Yet never questions why

hung like the sun in the sky,
Never questioning or wondering why,
These stars have no demise,
Then near the skies just to die,
Listening to you last lullaby,
The last start of the old beginning,
Just do not speak and wonder why.
Cayla frazier Sep 2014
ahh the hung stud..
never have I had the pleasure..
to witness and feel all of there zeal..
Does she hold you like I used to?
When you were too scared to
pick your head up from my shoulder?

Does she hum to you at night like I used to?
When your mind was too restless
to allow you to close your eyes?

Does she make you laugh like I used to?
When you'd stop only because you felt
like your stomach was on fire?

Does she make you feel bothered like I used to?
Does she make you feel mad like I used to?
Does she make you want to scream like I used to?

Was I ever even enough for you?
Will she ever even be enough for you?
Will she write one of these poems four years from now like I am?
Will she wonder what she ever did to deserve the hurt you caused?
Will she prevail? Will she crumble?

I'm still trying to figure out which one I'm doing.
You have made my life confusing.

Will I ever feel comfortable holding someone again?
Will I ever hum to another late at night?
Will I ever tell a joke just to hear another laugh?
Will they ever make me feel like you did?

Will she wonder the same things four years from now?
Will she think about me then?
She took what was mine
and in the end I wouldn't
be surprised if someone
took what she though
was hers.
Just another young girl who can't seem to banish her mind of frustrations with an ex.
Copyright 08-2-2014 Elizabeth Lawrence ©
it's ok May 2014
simple enough
If I wanted to, I could
I could dissect every word
you ever said
Take off the fabric that surrounds--
I would never, I told you,

I want to taste your skin,
after it's been hung on the clothespin
in the sun too long
If you heard this, you'd take it the wrong way

you want to taste me
because that little kiss,
you knew what you were doing
and now your hands know every inch of me

so ******* now
Tryst May 2014
Such joy a day can bring to hearts of men,
The trees bedecked, in finest autumn hue;
A throng of merriment upon the heath,
The glistened lilac, wrought in morning dew.

The drummer boys, a-beating on their drums,
Old peddlers pushing carts, piled high with wares;
Beggars, worn and haggard, as their clothes,
And women, in their finest, catching stares.

The roaring cheers as horse parades go by,
Delivering up the bounty of the feast;
The VIPs a-riding in fine style,
Their open carriage, drawn behind the beast.

As one by one, they climb above the crowd,
Their speeches cheered, with jeers and playful boos;
Then swiftly swinging, onwards with their tour,
The crowds go jostling, chasing better views.

The butcher greets the VIPs with glee,
And demonstrates his mastery of meat;
With sharpened knives, a-gleaming in the sun,
His chopping rhythym keeps a steady beat.

As shadows lengthen, slowly crowds disperse,
With pondrous looks, a day to e'er remember;
And every year, its carnival once more,
Lest we forget, the fifth day of November.
Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament.  They were sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered.  In theory, this meant you were hung until dead, your body was dragged through the streets tied behind a horse, and then your body was hacked to pieces and scattered, so your soul could never rest.  Of course, there are always loopholes in the law.  They were instead, hung (momentarily), just enough to feel the noose tighten.  They were dragged (on a carriage) behind a horse, and thus were delivered in relatively good health to the quartering block.  Guy Fawkes was fortunate; so weak from torture, his neck broke during the hanging, killing him instantly.  His companions weren't so lucky.
Kirsten May 2014
I was echilerated after comming across an iredessant sun
Twas shining on a perpendicular humanThat had been hung.
I was a very exotic environment,blood,guts,and beer all over the ***** bar.
The dead corps had a flamboyant ****** expression yet whilst hung -
Untouched ..Un-moving.
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