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Minute by minute
hour by hour
the angry swells so heavy
I'm about to pass out
and i want to never wake up.
Lost and confused trying to find myself again
So I pick up a pen and spill the ink
Black is what I see and what I bleed
Joy is a mystery that I can't seem to grasp
losing hope and faith
is it you or is it me?
Was this even meant to be?
You stole my identity and said you were my friend.
Ripped out of my arms, whispering goodbye.
And the hole widens with anger and spite.
Why doesn't this feel right?
This was suppose to be my chance, my dream!
To show the world that I am enough,
that I'm real and I feel!
This depression and stress, I want it to rest.
I need it to rest.
Why do i keep feeling like I'm not enough?
Is it you or is it me?
God, can you hear me scream?
I don't know what to do, I'm dazed and confused.
Chasing the dragon in the bathroom at work,
my only source of peace, my fake fidelity.
Sticking needles in places scars used to be.
Once healed, now marking its territory.
Again and again, how longer will I bend,
How longer will I need to prove myself?
How much longer will I come second place?
Where is your faith and why do I seek your approval?
I keep blaming you, but is it me?
A shoutout to all that feel this way, you're not alone, and I hope i'm not either. Hugs and kisses. XoXo
My new addiction
is to write good poetry;
ignoring day job
The state job?
Maybe he's connected?

Maybe, he's just
really, really smart?

Maybe he is smart...
. . .And he is connected?
"Get back to work!"  the voice shouted out

"There is work, you jerk, to be written about!"

"Ok!" I said, as I stared at his head

This story is over, this poem is dead.
Sam Sep 11
I want to be great, I want to paint, draw, sing, play guitar, juggle and dance.

I want to run a half long marathon, achieve greatness when I have the chance.

But with only 24 hours a day, I fear it can’t be done.

I want to travel, see the world, be successful and have fun.

But here I sit at home, when I should go on a run, it seems I am a jack of all trades,

But a master of none.
her spirit
is there
today with
her dime
that fear
her face
like Nefertiti
but in
a garage
that fit
her sleeve
these peeves
roar her
suffrage but
shakes her
clams in
a menagerie
news scene
duncan Aug 23
i dont believe in
soul mates. i dont believe in
soul. just blood and ice
Lydia Aug 9
lately I walk in to work alone
I go to break and flop down on the bench and light up a cigarette and if I feel like talking I can
or if I don't I can just sit for ten minutes
I get to be just purely me
fresh start, new people, new opportunities
it's actually refreshing to do this on my own this time
I leave work alone
I rush out to my car like I used to in the old days
turn up the volume on the radio to all my shitty songs
roll the windows down
smoke a cigarette
and sit in silence
I've never been happier
Sitting in a large room
with a few people
around - 2 friends,
20 acquaintance,
One frenemy, and
50 sloggers with a frown.
Every time I look at their filthy face
I tend to rub down
the pain the sarcasm
They use to bring me down.
I often
fail to understand
the purpose why
these fucktards are still
running around
For, I find this place
to be ideal for dressing down.
Everyone here looks stuck,
behind the thick walls
of the glorious fraternity
with hidden brawls
trying to solve unworthy affairs
when all they can do is a conference call.
They are highly judgemental and fail to express
the agony behind their not-so-happy face.
Broken and shattered,
Cause they never really mattered.
with their morality scaling down
laughing while facing a nervous breakdown
these losers are nothing but a big pile of
something in the colour
"Yellowish brown."
For those who are stuck in the rat race to prove themselves, let me tell you, this won't matter after a point of time.
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