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Philomena Jan 2019
Her
Well what can I say
I'm not her
I don't have her warm eyes
Her thin waist
Her cute laugh
Her smart brain
I'm not perfect like her
I'm not even close
I lack her sense of peace
And her immense love
I don't dream like her
See like her
I will never be like her
What more can I say
I'll never be beautiful or perfect
Never see clear or pure
I've ruined my chances of happiness in this world
And how can I blame you
She dances in the light
And I dwell here in darkness out of sight
She is all that is good and right in this world
And I'm all you should fear
So go ahead
Get out of here
I suppose I'm just frustrated. But can you really blame me, I'm the daughter of a monster and nothing can erase that path I've followed. So no I'll never be anything quite like her.
Wolf Dec 2018
To live
Is crafting a prized novel
Memories resting on every page

To end a life
Is deeming it complete
Before the reader is satisfied

A book lacking a proper end
You could call it a book
But it is not a story
I almost finished my book in chapter 13. Refuse to take a life, even if it is your own.
There's this exhausting road you still find yourself wandering in.
The potholed path of living in thoughts
In your mind every time.
You can be seen along there in the morning.
The fear of waking to the ray of the sun stealing glances of your naked body.
Playing dead as the alarm goes off.
Stuck in the mud of incompetent.
An airing voice of failure.
Smacked on your palms for missing the opportunity to live.
A collapsing vision you're handed.
At 25 you're seen a failure.
In the afternoon you are found there.
Seeking for shade under the roof of social vices.
The demeaning laughter of colleagues during lunch hour.
Cause you couldn't contribute to buy lunch.
Hunger is seen playing on your face.
A frustrating look you wear not cause of the neighbor you got into a fight with.
Rather it is about the alarming emptiness of your savings.
The month is fast ending yet the pile of bills welcome you each day.
Peace departs from your heart.
At night you lay helpless on same path.
Laid out, not wanting to rise.
Since hope has been bitten off your mind.
Mistakes swinging the rope dangling from the roof top.
This time "whys" became an escape route to meet death.
Breathing in and exhaling defeat.
Believing lies you served for dinner.
Today we sought for you in this path.
Echoed depression and lies.
We couldn't get to have a taste of your thoughts.
Now we leave a message behind.
Each day that path you cross is a story.
Fight the cause for triumph.
Do not breath without breathing.
At some point in living and growing up as a human we feel this heavy burden that we're never enough, we ain't putting in the needed energy to our work and that we need to establish our coast before we are successful and happy. There's is no mapped out plan on how we are to live. Life might not be favourable now, tomorrow we can be the best. Do not live just to live...be someone you will be proud of becoming.
Klvstrfvck Dec 2018
I tend to do this unforgiving
method of maddness when it comes to writing
I'll start and stop, repeating onto new work
unfinishing the last.

incomplete as each piece may be,
the brain is scattered
lost and afraid, it'll never feel the same way.
connected to what new beginnings
may be.
kiran goswami Dec 2018
She said
" The story you told them was incomplete,
You did not tell them how did I feel. "
But darling,
Every story would remain incomplete in this light,
Because you're the victim of your story
And I am of mine.
Even the Evil Queen has something to say
But all we know is the story of Snow White.

I may always be me

-

Yet, without you I am not
Written: November 10, 2018

All rights reserved.
Michael Ryan Nov 2018
She's been next door
since my birth
and you may wonder how that
is even possible
when I am four or five years older than her.

I met her at a time
in my life
where my world changed,
and in this change
I tried to live--
to live for anything.

In my futile attempts
to find purpose
to conquer the beasts
of mental illness,
she's been at my window
to see this eternal struggle of mine.

She's wonderful
completely and utterly--
of course this doesn't mean she's perfect
and even more of course she's far from it.

But maybe it's that imperfection
that has allowed
her and I
to have open windows,
open hearts,
and open conversations--
no matter the
Time zones, languages, or illnesses
we always come back
understanding each other
just a little bit more.
Slime-God Nov 2018
A million faceless vermin burrow deep into my mind.
They feed on broken sentences, and words I couldn’t find.
underestimated Nov 2018
Your smile kills me
Because I can't see it all the time
Your heart breaks mine
Because it doesn't beat for me
Your scent makes me suffer
Because I long for it when you're gone
Your laugh makes me cry
Because I don't get to hear it when I wake up in the morning
Your pain makes me scream in anger
Because you don't deserve it
Your love has left me incomplete
Because I need it but can't have it
It's not your fault but I'm broken because of you...
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