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GONNER Aug 2018
i’ve beaten down and broken
into a million pieces
now i’m here alone
with no cure for my diseases

they’re eating me alive
cell by cell
they’ve forced me to do things
i refuse to tell

now i sit here alone
broken and lost
i’m still feeding my insecurities
when i know the cost

eventually i’ll be gone
nothing but pain
it keeps me awake at night
coursing through my veins

there’s so many scars
i can’t count them all
i’m patiently waiting
for my one last fall

my diseases are incurable
i’ve given up hope
there’s not much of me left
i’m searching for a rope

to end my pain
to end my sorrow
i’m hoping for
a better tomorrow
Desire rod Sep 2016
Crawling on your skin
Seasonal depression
Sinks in
A Blue picnic
Mouthing unspeakable phrases
Brain try's to unwind
It's a tangled mind
Incurable sickness
Horrid wickedness
Afra Al Zaabi Mar 2015
Hello, dearly beloved
How are you doing?
I hope you’re doing fine
It’s been so long
Since we’ve last talked
It’s been so long
Since we’ve last seen each other
I strongly apologise
For keeping you wait for my emails
For I have been busy
And I hope you understand that
Though I know being busy
Is not that much of an excuse
I hope you’re not mad darling
I know you’ve been missing me
For quite some time
I apologies for hurting you
I know how much missing someone hurts
I know
Because I have been missing you too
Which hurts like
An incurable wound
Will you forgive my clumsiness?
I hope you do
Please do
My dear
I love you very
Do you love me still?
I hope you do
Well I know you do
But please say you do
Will you please
Reply to this unravishing poem from me to you
With a ravishing poem from you to me?
I hope you do
Please do

                                           Your poetess,
                                             Afra Alzaabi
What
Do
you
Do
When
Your
Cure
Turns
On
You
IncadesentCat Aug 2014
Curiosity is an incurable disease, and thank goodness for that.
Morrison Leary Aug 2014
Swooping through the city streets,
the alleys, the corners, every crevice and crack.
Education and language never to be seen, dissipating with the past.
Ingrained in the brain, the common normality, placed on the famous track.
Morality has diminished, human beings are finished.
No curative for this disease,
a disgusting devious deceit  
Two dozen selfies left behind,  
just you, old and decrepit
all your doing,
your design,  
a silly lie.  
A ***** disguise.
Alone with a wasted life.

— The End —