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Fọlá 7d
The spot you see it all.
The locus, with the right elevation.
Hidden, in the right vegetation.
Away, from any detection.

The view is strategic.
Targets unaware, roaming.
The moment is nearing.
Nothing escapes your sight,
Save for the blinking of an eye.

The rifle is set.
Scope, adjusted.
Wind bearing, calculated.
Heartbeat, decelerated.

Breath, bated.
Muzzle, pressed.
Down, goes the target. . .
How do you decide?
Decide what to do,
What the future holds for you?
I don’t understand, one goal,
One goal that somehow
Supersedes them all.

How do you choose?
When passion flows through you,
For not just one, nor two,
But many life paths, careers,
It all means something to you?

I feel lost, thinking of the future.
I’m floating by, trying to find,
Something that could spark
More than mere interest,
Something that could captivate,
Hypnotize me for long enough.

Because you see, I flit from one
Passion to the next, one minute
I am drawing, the next sewing,
The next it’s animals I love,
Or how about teaching children?

And I sit here empty, not sure
Which path to take, which goal
To make, to work towards,
Because right now, I’m in
The inbetween, no job,
Not in school, what do I do?

But the reality is, I’m trying to find
That one magic passion,
That somehow works with my
Disable body, since almost everything,
I find it all exhausting.
And my mind is spinning circles,
A dog chasing its tail.

Why can’t I do it all?
Why can’t I just enjoy life, enjoy
All of the things it brings,
And take my time, because I’m
So tired, of trying to figure it all out.
Tired of planning, I’ve never been
Too good at planning, when there’s
So many things occupying my mind,
So many things that I desire.

But even then, even then, if I could find
A goal to work towards, a dream job
For right now, well that takes work
And it takes time, because it
Turns out it’s all a ladder that
We all have to climb and being disabled,
Well I feel left behind, not sure
How to move forward when
I also have to go up, and going
Up has always been so draining.

I must work now, to somehow
Get somewhere I would rather be,
But what do you do when most jobs
Require me to be on my feet,
With my level of experience,
And education, limiting me?
It’s like I have to hurt myself
In order to hopefully some day,
Live a better life, I guess that’s why
So many say, ‘suffer now, and
You’ll get your reward later’

I tried university, tried college,
But you see, being disabled,
Has made them  difficult for me.
At least, in the ways that I was pursuing.
And now I’m stuck, trying to find my way,
How to get out of this rut, this mess,
All around me while being limited
By my own body, when I’m so used
To trying so hard to keep up
With the rest of them, charging
At how much money they can earn.

Money, it always comes back to money.
And money stresses me out,
Makes me more sick, gives me more
Pain that I would ever like to be in.
Well, apparently, money is
Supposed to be the solution.

Not so easy when the job market is ****,
I didn’t come from money, so I had to
Start off with nothing, and make my own way.
But where do you start, when
All your ‘now’ prospects seem
Rather lackluster and all you can do
Is prepare for a future.

Strange to think that we’re told to
Live each and every day like
It’s the last one we may ever live,
When we have to spend our beginnings
Stuck in preparing, deciding, and striving
For a future, so hard to make,
When all you started with was
A journal to write in.

I just want to live now,
I want to live everyday,
I want to spend more time
Cultivating all this passion inside
Of me, it’s bursting inside of me.

But there’s this rut, this anxiety,
This fear, of having to build a life,
No, a career. So that I can live
In the future, instead of now,
So that hopefully, we can get by,
Scrape by, by the skins of our teeth.

Tired of working **** jobs,
That I don’t really like, where we’re
Unappreciated, and paid to barely live.
Overworked, underpaid, I’m in so much pain.
My body, can’t stand in this pain,
But that’s all I can do is stand.
In pain, at a cash register,
Or making drinks, no consideration,
Of the struggle it is of being disabled.

Because we all have to able.
Able to stand, to push, to work
Your ***** off, until there’s nothing left,
You’ve given all you’ve got, and then
Some. Soul *******, career bent,
Work too hard, to fit in.
You got to be a workaholic to fit in.

Well I can’t keep up with that pace,
And I see it wearing people thin,
People that have more strength,
More drive than I ever did.
How are we supposed to live,
When you have to work to live,
And, in turn, live to work.
It’s extremely exhausting.

All of this jumbles inside me,
I can’t breathe, can’t decide,
How I’m supposed to live my life
When everything screams
On all sides, that I’m supposed to be
Running, supposed to be rushing,
And that all seems so wrong.

I just want to live a life that has meaning.
Something meaningful to me, that I can
Actually enjoy each moment as it passes
Us all by, I don’t want to rush life
Before it all ends, I’m so tired
Of trying to run in this ‘rat race’
It’s not a race, I need a slower pace.
I demand a slower place.
No more running, no more racing,
It’s time to live in the now,
No fear.
© Michelle Brunet 2019
Juan Bot Feb 26
I am poor,
Skin and bones is all that I have.
I see a dog on the street.
Dinner.
In our first world country, there is always a third world within us.
conflicting species
test the limits
to assert power
between themselves
i need to thank my ecology teacher for this
E Jan 23
Winter, cold and still
Blood splatters powdered white feilds
Fawn shivers in fear
I would rather
Hunt you down
And excavate
known treasure
Than spend a lifetime
Chasing the rumor
Of satin and gold
Beanie Dec 2018
you think the heads
hung on your wall
define you,
prove your masculine worth.

to me,
they are a warning
to stay far away.

women and animals
are not yours.

we are not yours,
we are not trophies for your wall,
we are not notches for your bedpost,
we are not prizes to be won.

yet you would treat us as such,
equate me and my sisters
with the lion in the savannah,
and reduce us to what you can take.

you would hang us on your wall,
furs and maidenheads,
displaying us as symbols of your prowess.

we do not exist to ****** your ego,
to let you show off to the others,
to have you carry us as the mantle on your shoulders,
the crown upon your head.

our blood,
the lioness and mine,
is on your hands and your walls,
and we will make you regret it.
I wrote this after watching the documentary "Trophy"
King Nov 2018
I’ve never been so cold
While lying next to you
I’ve lost that hand to hold
You watch my skin turn deathly blue

I am the venison
Left unwanted after the hunt
Still warm, sensitive
Dying in the cold front

I only wish I freeze peaceful
The snow covers me white
My death comes so blissful
As the moon overtakes the night

The hunters have left to kiss their women
Hug their kids and sleep soundly
While my decayed body is unwritten
And my spirit is ungrounded

Doe of the night,
Wisting away in the wind
The soul of The Taken takes flight
And finds his own ending
hart Nov 2018
sorrow found me when i was young it stood over me in my crib, as the fire burned , as dad shouted and dean carried me out of that house, as i cried for dean when dad left us alone, as i begged dean for lucky charms instead of beans

sorrow waited for me as i grew up he watched over me like a guardian angel little did i know that the shred of doubt i had in my mind was only going to grow as he watched me carve my name with dean in the impala, as i watched dean die over and over, through every demon i killed , every monster i slaughtered , every mistake i made and every slip up

then sorrow won he took me at last using Lucifer as a distraction as he wiggled into my brain and fed on all my thoughts until i was nothing no that's not true i was something, i was ruined, i was empty ,i was nothing but sorrow and despair and the worst part of that is i knew it was there all along shadowing me hunting me like i do monsters waiting for me to give up fighting against it

sam winchester
poem i wrote from sams pov
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