You frivolous heart, what bounds you break,
You torturous mind to inflict such an ache.
Have you not learned nor felt the sting of such thought?
That weaves it's new pattern, for a new mind to wake.

The wondrous onslaught of untried design to take hold,
As a fresh pair of eyes perceive a new pathway, bold.
Wait, yet you know this world brave and new,
Spoken of, no, lived in a story once told.

Are we creatures of pattern and rigid confines?
Or do we linger, intently, at the edge of hope's hard lines?
Oh ineffable conquest, unfathomable veil,
My courage waning in the shadow of bleaker times.

Though elusive, a way I am able to see,
It's evading nature forcing a strain upon my mind and me.
Am I free to escape this passionless pit?
Relinquish fear and abandon what was once identity?

I need to say
to rose petals
and soft rain.
     Ain’t never done
me no good
my time out
   looking for ro-man-tic
love like that—
no, it just sucks
        me dry
blood-letting tick,
that fat belly man

. . . reflecting on us, 
I'll walk this path with you,
touching air no one else can see,
humming songs no one else can decipher,
one step at a time,
creating our identity.

To Absent Days' Gone,

The strength of weakness Betrays Oneself.

The Weakness of Strength defaces the purity of a love so strong as to entwine ones' life and being.

A heart in chaos sees nearsighted,

The part I play is that of the puppet to mineself.

But Thanks to thou who'd show me the painful truth.

Set my aching heart free from itself and show me,





To coexist so tightly to seem as one in the same.

Truth speak,

I will listen.

I will learn.

I am not alone, not in myself nor in others.

I Am, Myself.

~Robert van Lingen

grace snoddy Dec 7

i am the architect of my own demolition.
i know what ive done, but i will not
that i am the cause.
i know that by admitting it,
i will never be able to live with myself.
so with that,
i choose to blatantly ignore
all evidence you throw at me.
i will ignore my own head,
yet alone
the thoughts that rage in yours.

but the funny thing is,
my head will forever be louder
than the words you continue to yell at me. my head is equivalent to
the loud static of a broken television;
only not able to be turned off.
i am saving myself from my own destruction.
but at the same time
i am creating more for you.

you are the rug i sweep all my actions under.
you are the jar i hide all my confessions in.
for i am a monster,
a monster only seen
when i look into the mirror.
you are my mirror.

one of my favorite pieces
grace snoddy Dec 7

long days = long nights
long nights
are the only thing i’ve been trained for.
i’ve been chained to you.
long nights become longer
because i am missing you.
you are my hope to be who i want to be,
but you are the only thing that's holding me back from being me.
being truly me.

conversly Dec 6

Who do you want to be?

    Who do you want people to see?



            All of it.

But when it’s ready.

Tori Dec 5

"I am enough"
She said to the mirror,
Dull eyes gazing back
Her reflection recreating regal
That coming so naturally before, now were cracked

"I am beautiful"
She said, with silver tears
Brimming in her eyes
In the daytime she was Clepatra
Aching for affirmation, filled with dirty lies

Standing in her own presence
No lines so sweetly versed
No role to be rehearsed
Fists clenched, lips tightly pursed
Oh beautiful tragedy! you lost your identity...
the ache is stayed with the plunge of a blade
breaching  the chasm which once held your heart

Wearing a perfect facade can eat away at you until you loose who you are.
solfang Dec 6

The eyes you stared
aren't the same shade,
the hands you held
aren't the same size,
your heartbeats
aren't the same rhythm,
and with that,
I'll never replace her

Jenn Coke Dec 4

Love has some wonderful properties.

It makes you something you're not. It makes you sane and insane. It makes you humane and inhumane. It makes you sighted and blind. It makes you overly rational or illogical. It makes you somewhat childish when nothing matters. It makes you extra jealous when there's nothing.

It makes you do things you don't do. It makes you prosecute and judge your defendant, or it makes you defend your lover. Perhaps the other way around. It makes you commit murder. It makes you commit suicide. It offers you identity crisis to a certain extent, but also enough motivation, will, and power to kill, just a little, somehow.

Who am I? Who am I, now? Who was I? And, who are you? Whose side are you on?

On that note, all it would take is but a feeble breeze to knock me off the edge so that I fall into endless tar. I shall sink, effortlessly, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, as the thick, obscure liquid engulfs and swallows my entire being, slowly and gently, until I'm out of breath, and perfectly erased from this world without a trace of ever having lived.

I'm already ignored and forgotten by my own lover, overshadowed by his older female cousin anyway. I don't matter. I was just temporary. I've always been alone. It seems...
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