miki 2d
you told me to show you where i hurt.
but you were wearing a blindfold.
and my hands were tied behind my back.

you told me to tell you how i feel.
but you had plugged your ears.
and i was choking on my own spit.
So, you're dead?

HUH?

What do you mean, "you're dead"?

WHAT?

This is just typical of you.

A man of your age should've known better.
Happy father's day
B-J-M Jun 13
entirely at fault
the Ubermensch
within
will still find
a means
of spreading the blame
beyond
the limits of responsibility

even these words
pass the blame
onto something
that can be claimed
as being
beyond my control

so is it even
really
my fault
at all?
Nic Mac Apr 1
Speaking honestly, finally
Naming them, in their multiples.
Listing deceits,
that had sat,
as my obstacles.
Hitting me, as I ran.
Stopping me, so I’d fall
Over the emptyness you placed there.
  
How cruel it is, to cover my eyes,
while the image is screamed at me
I can still hear it,
I will always hear it.
But, there’s a reason the phrase
“You have to see it to beleive it” exists
with more  prominence.
Please.

I had enough dark,
It surrounded everyday,
Illuminate this mistake.
I don’t care if it hurts your head to bow,
is ‘shame’ really that unfamiliar?
Show me, tell me.

Finally
finally you let it,
let them.
Some of it, enough, of it.
What was hidden, now basked in truth
I see it now, for all that I knew,
but now of which I can be certain.

Your hands, it seems,
still around my throat.
With this “thankyou”
This “thankyou” I say
to the most ironic of gestures.

Speaking with honesty
about how profoundly you had lied.
BM Green Jun 7
It's ironic in away
The way you don't care at all
The way I care so entirely much
Yeah it’s ironic you see

In the beginning
You begged me
Pleaded with me
“Give us a chance
I will love you forever”
Yeah it’s ironic

See you left those words behind you
Your days went on
you made a life
So my days went on too
I made a life
Two separate lives
Worlds without each other

It’s ironic
You said
You couldn’t breathe without me
Now my lungs burn
I gasp for air in your absence

See the difference is
every single day,
even if only for one minute,
my life stops
I think about the irony

In the midst of everything around me,
in that minute
all I see is you.
All I feel is you
And what you left behind.
The emptiness your abandonment left.

It’s ironic because
Then I have to swallow it down
Bury the ache way down
So I can keep going
Just until you creep back up again

Yeah I find it ironic
I didn’t want anything
To do with you
And now my world revolves
Around surviving without you.
Peter Balkus Apr 28
I would't mind
being Monetised.
I love Monet.
Nathaniel Apr 24
Why must all poetry have deep thought?
Why can’t I sit and write
And speak of what I like.
Personally it’s kind of restricting,
Considering I’m not talented,
I write for fun and no one
in particular
Must I have a rhythm or rhyme?
I suppose I unconsciously must,
As it makes me uncomfortable
When I lack such principle, I lust.
See? I totally forced that rhyme,
At this point rhythm is nonexistent
Is this considered a waste of our time?
Not just mine of course,
But yours the reader.
I sit here and ramble
And you’re still here, eager.
Probably not
Probably thinking,
“What is this guy thinking?”
I didn’t mean to rhyme the same word twice,
Kind of tacky, I know.
Too late now, I’ve moved on.
This has been swell,
I’m not only glad
But surprised at your dedication,
Thanks for listening,
Hopefully you related,
Later
I decided I just wanted to write something basic.
Saint Audrey Apr 21
Classic trepidation, stationary with the aura of
Coincidence, slit myself and call it skyward thinking
Sinking feelings that argue for a sudden resignation
Conscientiousness, leprous and typesetting

Intimate knowledge that I disclose verbatim cannot, and should not, ever be used against me.
Interest infected through wavelengths, non responsive partly cause of the rupturing that's been running through my dreams.
Scant as fixes to the problems, overblown and oft forgotten, lisping when I speak of this Epiphany.
Taxidermist furnish houses, howling wolves that get devoured, sounds like God and hell and them finally worked out peace.

Just cosmetic, slightly pathetic the ease at which the mind elapses
Classics retconned till nothing's left except the years of influence
Invested in the melancholy, snobs lobbyist and in distant memories
Sometimes i wonder what happened to us,
And it's so ironic,
'Cause i am the one always saying
And preaching about how
Inevitable change is..

Not that i was unrealistic,
It's just that
you're one change
One change
i hoped wouldn't happen..

-fir.m
i miss what  we used to be ...
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