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Jay M Mar 2019
"You see those scissors over there?"
One whispers,
"Those were meant for you."
It says teasingly,
"Take them, then take yourself."
It orders...

"Don't listen!"
Shouts another,
"You have a family! Friends!"
It tries to reason,
Them shouting back and forth,
Clashing with words,
Fighting with their own poison,
Battling until they are far too wounded to go on,
Hiding until the right moment,
Then repeating all over again.

I tried,
But nothing,
For they couldn't hear me,
But everyone else could.

Not really speaking,
But they do,
Not really there,
But it just makes sense,
Almost like a whisper,
Almost like a call,
Almost like I were a mindless corpse....

Thousands join the two,
Turning a simple argument into a heated war,
A once quiet prison yard,
To a full on riot.

None can hear their cries for help;
None but I.
None know just what I mean;
But that's not the point.

Take that pain,
Put it on the page,
Send it away,
See what it does.

I say send some,
Then burn some.

- Jay M
March 22nd, 2019
I'm alright. Just planning to burn my diary in the fireplace tonight.
Jay M Mar 2019
Fluttering wings,
Bubbling within,
Rising rains,
Pattering, drumming,
On the trees above,
On your head,
Feet at a steady pace,
Just at the time of the rain,
Drumming with purpose,
But, oh wanderer,
What purpose does your pace have?

Bubbling, fizzing,
All unseen,
The hunger,
The drive,
To hunt,
But you hold it in,
Tame it,
Bend it to your will,
Heal the damage,
Break the vengeance,
The internal fire.

Fluttering wings,
Flying fast,
Coming at you,
Unseen, unheard,
Unexpected, yet expected,
You can’t help but give in,
To the pain,
To the misery,
The void inside.

Your steps have purpose,
Paces planned,
But motions uncertain,
Destination controlled,
Route un-mapped,
But I am here to guide you;
Help you regain control.
Through all of the days of wonder,
Thoughts asunder, scattered about,
Written, flung, separate from one another,
Senseless, but not meaningless,
Each one burdened with purpose,
Waiting to be decrypted,
Brought into a new light,
Kept away from the consuming flame,
The drive of your feet,
May they ever be well again,
To the place you once knew,
The peace to your war,
The home of the soul,
The lair of the internal fire.

- Jay M
October 9th, 2018
Slime-God Sep 6
The damage is complete.
This is a lie.
This is a ghost.
Nica Monet Aug 12
I've fallen
fallen off from the perfect image framed of me
for me to embody a perfect daughter
daughter that's no longer me

I was one of the nicest
I was one of the best
Fell off my high chair, can I just lay here and rest?
It feels as if I have to live up
to the things I no longer want
to the expectations not of my own
but of the people that dares to throw me off my throne

The fire and desire to break away grows in me
Yet I'm stuck inside a cell where they claim I'm free
As I stand still in the same root like an old tree
I envy the leaves of life falling when it felt right to flee

I'm no angel, I'm no devil
But in this earth,
to look after thyself is seen as a deed of evil
Self-worth constantly shattered
and we ask why people lack the effort?
the effort to be and stay true to ourselves are enough of a riddle
I'm not the same as I used to be, I'm no longer the little me.
Internal conflict within me in the environment that disguises itself as a safe haven to be me. I'm living in a small *** not for a big tree.
Explore my labyrinthian corridors,
From the walls to the hallways, to the unkempt floors.

'Tis in my mind I finally realize,
I have not the time to explore each and every door,

Precious, singular thoughts,
Expectedly drowning,
but in due course,
We are lost at sea in an ocean devoid,

emptied by the mindless wars.
a m a n d a May 19
there are many things
i do not know
even after
40 years and i tell you
i haven’t stopped
this searching
since first i awoke
to the world
always so concerned
so amused
so incredibly internal
to a degree i cannot
describe or fathom
i only wanted
to love
and to help
and to create
and instead
the earth opened
and i fell
to another
Internal flames sustain the charring coals of misery.

Heat so intense,
the molten source of such bewitchery seems contradictory.

As time ends the landscape bends.
No hope for new discovery.

Personal freedom and liberty are now things of history.

Ideas and dreams stuck in protohistory,
nothing left,
zero energy,
abstinence of synergy.

Death. The bittersweet valedictory.
Lost ideas of mystery. The mystery that
only the silent soul can hold the final sole victory too.
Consilius May 9
Here we are,
standing on the edge of sympathy,
bound by irony,
divided in purpose.

You aim to climb the highest peak,
meaning is what you seek.
I want to see the skies painted in the dawn,
for in the morning, significance is reborn.
Mirror, Mirror
On the wall
Why must you always
Watch me fall

I see you
And you see me
You look down with indifference
While I look up and plea

An inside battle
Between you and me
I am you and
You are me
Kaley Apr 18
Hell is not fire, nor brimstone,
It is not of devils and sin.
Hell is far more personal,
Too raw and real within.
Hell is a prison for tortured souls,
Constructed of flesh and of bone.
Hell is dark and deep,
The only place you're ever truly alone.
Hell is where your demons dance,
Along a wicked line.
Hell is where your agony,
Hides behind the words "I'm fine."
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