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ibkreator Sep 29
without turning it into an enemy to **** again

the enemy isn't that man is
its that man makes it to be
Rinasekhon Sep 26
The collateral fiction of Waves
The sounds of echoes scream as I strained by my body by the beat of the music  
Tears pouring down on my  makeup
You can hold me down if you want to
I don't really mind 'cause I'd like to
Feel love, how it hurts,
Guillotined of principles killing my subconscious thoughts of the injustice
When we cling on each other bodies doesn't matter the weather changes on over the collide of pauses
And I was writing poetry about you every day
And yeah, I know that things
They never tend to stay the same
But I don't think you love me and it kills me every day
Burned out by the red cuff of over lining shine
The word we're unimaginable
By the colorful pigments of fools
Like the collision of her blames that blinds her before she flies higher than the stars
Blink of the moon and the perpendicular crimination of crimson cream
Bloom all over the sky of orange and blue
The sense of unhappiness is so much easier to convey than that of happiness. In misery we seem aware of our own existence, even though it may be in the form of a monstrous egotism: this pain of mine is individual, this nerve that winces belongs to me and to no other. But happiness annihilates us: we lose our identity
What was she supposed to feel
What was she supposed to do
In the different universe, how was her story gonna end
So many victims tattered her eager thoughts
It is better to lock up your heart with a merciless padlock than to fall in love with someone who doesn't know what they mean to you.
Let her sin away her thought of us
Let her devils ruin her soul and peace of mind
Pictures of her burns alive as the wave take her away
Hi, I am back after so long hope u guys enjoy this... Ciao... See ye soon till next time
I was jealous I wouldn’t lie.
You search my eyes I will not pry.
I feel nothing I would do it again.
Just to see her eyes rolled over again.

You caused this so don’t you cry.
Every day you tell lies.
‘How I love you darling.’
But your eyes were all over the place.

Let’s be real, take off shackles.
Isn’t this for the slaves who tried to battle.
You can trust me I hand myself over to you.
Cause if it leaves to me you would lose.

I killed her I will not lie.
I stab to the chest but she didn’t die.
I step it up a notch.
So, I torture her.

The pain was severe, I could see.
As, tears drip down her face.
I smiled, this was what I want,
For her to feel the pain that I endured.

For he has cheat, that’s no excuse.
Maybe it was my anger that cause this news.
I know I have a death sentence but please think like me.
Wouldn’t you be satisfied that she has die.
For I am being honest, ain’t telling no lie.

They make love in our bed.
As if it was normal.
She was my bestfriend.
Our love was not formal.

Sure, I **** her I tell no lie.
Am I proud?
Well…
I couldn’t answer, I only smile.

I will admit I think it was a bad idea.
But, just the thought of her gone
Just boost my ego.
With a stab to the chest she did not die.

Blood was over pouring out her mouth.
She started to cough,
She started to choke.
While he stood in the corner feeling sorry for her.
That just make me wanting for more.
She didn’t die just yet.
She was glaring,
She was bearing.
To show how strong she was.

Sad to say I have the will,
I have power.
He stood and cried.  
While I stood and laugh.

Her feet was a shaking mess.
Why so nervous?
I wondered!
Her eyes dance until they land on his.

I couldn’t help it I have the gun
So, without a second thought
I shot him,
He staggers,
She cried,
I laughed,
He died.

I know, I think she would die first.
But what’s the fun in that.
She watched my man, her man, our man died.
I love the feeling I will tell you no lie.

Do I regret?
No!
But, that’s not the end.
Remember she didn’t die.

The police were at my doorstep,
Interrupting my rendezvous.
Of course, they agreed I wasn’t a fool
Who was gonna kidnapped two cheaters.

I couldn’t help it I have the gun
So, without a second thought
I shot him,
she fell limp,
he staggers,
I laughed,
They died.

That’s the end my dear
I know you weren’t prepared
They died,
I died.
Lara Sep 4
My desires are
to **** my feelings
to freeze my emotions and
to numb my pain

Lying hides my desires
Suhayb Sep 3
Everyone is a universe of weakness.
We cannot separate pain and pleasure.
Anything you like can hurt you,
anyone you love can **** you.
I was going to say something else
but I’m forgetting it now.

When your life’s a joke, what can you do but laugh?
But Now is never permanent, there will always be joy in your future.
If I just say it over and over again, my brain might autofill the rest.
My own artificial intelligence is failing me.
I've decided  to do nothing about everything.
There was something else too but,
I’ve forgotten.

We are all born from boxes, live in boxes and die in boxes
The experience of the self is always richer than the experience of the other.
Perpetually ungrateful to God and so cursed with myopia,
Our solipsism screams out into the nothingness.
If we live and die for no reason, why can’t I cry for no reason?
I’ve lost my train of thought now,
what was I saying?

The past isn't dead, it isn’t even past.
I plant tulips everytime someone leaves me.
I fear the greyness more than the darkness.
Of my saturation slowly increasing,
irrelevant instead of irrecoverable.
Of adequacy instead of spectacular failure.
A spiritual death rather than my physical demise.
I don’t want to be forgotten, I’d rather disappear

I was going to say something else,
but no one's listening
The smell of something putrid
protrudes up through your nostrils
as you walk down these dimply lit streets.
You hear the fire crackling, you see the glow off the side of an abandoned building.

Is this one of those fires you see on the news -
set ablaze by anger and retaliation?

No.
It's the burning wounds along Jacob Blake's back.
It's the marks of oppression -
the scars we "distract" ourselves from.

There's a fire burning in America
and the source is plain to see:
while bodies line up along the streets,
people following along on their TV screens
say a prayer for broken windows.
They mourn items that are looted
as if it wasn't a life that was looted first.

There's a fire burning
and it melts the black skin right off their bones.
A skeleton has no color
yet they blame corpses for their own murders.

There's a fire burning
from Sanford to Staten Island,
from Louisville to Kenosha.
But those very flames were ignited
by the people designated to put them out.

Who watches the watchmen?
Who stands with the people?

The hammer has dropped.
The bullets have left the chamber.
As long as our brothers and sisters
have to fight for their right to live,
Red, White and Blue lives don't matter.
Alicia Moore Aug 8
The killer inside is curiosity;
past secrets kept hidden by
carrying out a procedure
decried by the own mind.

The killer inside is curiosity;
one digs to find the truth,
but only joins such secrets
six feet under rubble and twigs.

The killer inside is curiosity;
do not paw at the depths,
withdraw immediately—
For curiosity killed the cat,
and many beings after that.
Kit Scott Aug 6
you are an unholy sort of beautiful
a rejection of divinity in every freckle and curve
in the dirt under your nails and the blood in your smile
your crooked nose and clever fingers screaming that you are godless

you dress yourself in an artless kind of humanity and revel in the shock it brings
hair and skin and dirt and all the warmth you can gather between two hands
you cup your heart in scarred palms like the very opposite of a benediction

you wear debauchery like a second skin
darling, you could **** god with a grin
this doesnt flow very well but i like it
Marri Jul 26
Dad,

Did you really mean the things you said to me? That one night.
Did you really mean to disown me at birth? That one afternoon.
Did you really mean to hurt me and the woman I love? That one day.

Before birth, dad, I learned love through closed fists.
I learned love through the smell of bourbon and the taste of whatever drugs were on your tongue that night.
I learned love through abandonment.

At the age of three months, I was naive.
I thought love was shown in the shapes of bruises.
I thought love was left in the burn marks.
I thought love was embedded into broken ribs.

I thought sleeping pills made you fly.
That’s why I cried for mama to take me with her.

At the age of seven, I was naive.
I believed you loved me.
I believed that I was the subject of every waking ballad you’d sing to me.
I believed that your rough hands rubbing lotion on me was out of love not pure obligation.

At the age of nine, I was naive.
I trusted your words.
I trusted your vows.
I trusted everything you’d say.
Yet, you never showed up.

But even love can’t make room in busy.

At the age of eleven, I was naive.
I waited for you.
I longed for you.
And some nights,
I cried for you.

But distance makes screams seem quieter than they seem.

At the age of thirteen, I was naive.
I needed you.
That year I tried to fly like mama.

No one cried for me.

At the age of sixteen, I was naive.
I was cutting the thought of you out of me.
I was cutting the half of me that belonged to you.
I bled out the portion that reminded me of you.

Dad, I’m scared.
I’m terrified that I forgot a piece of you.
That inside me, somewhere, is a part of you growing.

I don’t want to hurt the ones I love.
I don’t want to ruin everything I love.
I don’t want to make anyone feel the way you made me feel.

I fear that I'll grow up to be you.
Ruthless, mysterious, alone, aggressive,
And a coward.

But
At the age of 18, I wasn’t naive.
I pushed you away.
I cut all ties.
I disowned you this time.

At the age of 18.
You created sons,
You created a family.
The one you always wanted一
You finally found the true meaning of love.

Your youngest daughter,
Marrianna.
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