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Leah Carr May 26
I was 13 when I found myself scratching my hands
Fighting with the feelings from some unexplored land
A land of mortifying hurt and pain
A land that I never want to see again
But 2 years on, I still visit daily
Cause I'm still addicted to the feelings of agony
And taking them out on my body, battered and bruised
Much like myself it's been tortured and used
Not just scratching now but much more too
Doing things to my flesh that I know I shouldnt do
But the feelings they build, with every passing hour
I'm not doing this to hurt others
I'm not bitter or sour
I'm doing this because I'm addicted to the feeling
The rush of endorphins
When my head is reeling
The racing heartbeat thumping in my chest
Cause my heart knows I shouldnt
My heart knows best
But my mind is warped and confused and a mess
From fear and anxiety and depression and stress
So much so that I start to feel numb
Not feeling anything
So desperate to not succumb
To the darkness of empty
That fills up my head
As I lie upside down in the dark on my bed
So desperate to feel something
Anything at all
That again, I find cuts and scratches,
Appalled at myself
Knowing I cant afford to lose my existence to this
But still I keep cutting and scratching and all
Cause when I'm in the moment,
It feels like bliss
That feeling as your soul ignites with sensation
I visit that place and it's become a great nation
That so many others visit now too
But you cant reach them
Stuck in your own private battle
Fighting the voices that have appeared in my head
Whispering the words that I've learnt to dread
"Just one more cut"
"One more scratch"
They say
And I'm trying to tell them
I dont wanna play this game
But the voices get louder
And louder
And louder
All I need is to go back
With a sprinkle of forgetting powder
I just want to turn around
Go back to the start
But I can't, and you know why?
Because in part
The reason i did this
The reason i began
Was because i wanted the feel of that land.
Slime-God May 25
As life shapes the land
From a dream to something more
I shall shape myself
Even creatures of habit sometimes find someone worth changing for.
If only it were so easy for us to change their minds as well.
Annie Oct 2021
big blue
big blue, two
two big blue to see
big blue sky
like crayon on canvas
crazy how big blue is
crazy how I have two blue
always drawn to
big brown
two big brown
drawn to brown like crayon
draws land
land under big blue
big sky
blue eyes
look for brown
land and
sea, too
crazy you
have brown
I have blue
we have two
you take blue crayon
I take brown
draw land on you and
you draw big
sky or sea
all over me
I am blue
brown is you
kissing crazy
cos now blue is brown
brown is blue
land has sea
sea makes sky
crazy crayons
blue brown eyes
you and
Eslam Dabank Sep 2021
A scene I witness; a tank stands tall and proud,
    And stones above me are a dome with a purpose vowed,
Striking as desperation infused in resilience bullets;
    Covering the sun, the clouds and the house of puppets.

Accelerating, they are, as they get closer to the enemy,
    Sharpened, as rubbed with the winds of true identity;
The stones cold and rigid, that turn warm and alive,
    On a glimpse of soldiers wishing, in falsehood, to thrive.

Hands are grips of pouches, arms leaned back behind -
    And stones rumble in excitement for a destiny to unwind.
In the skins of a will that centuries could not erase,
    to hit the filth, the mud catapult a stone shall raise.

Reality is a mortar, and the unity of stones is a pestle,
    Grinding the green oppressors’ hideout; a fragile vessel,
Brewing glory with petrified history in hand and mind -
    In our fettered souls, freedom is shown to the free blind.

A triangle of love our life is: a stone, a hand and a sling,
    And O, is it a love for anyone to forbid? No, it is to sing;
To be sung aloud; romanticising the ugliness of brutality,
    The love that will grow, in the womb of unjust triviality.

If they wish to throw us in hell for our love and this,
    We hereby will turn hell into the land of pleasure and bliss;
Fashioning a reality where the fires are patting gently,
    And Gods are watching the anomaly from thrones intently.

Stones imbue the sweat of us; forming glazed shields,
    And the wounds’ blood absorbed crazes paths in fields,
Where I see a soldier dazzled by the weariness of them,
    The weakness of their stem, and the strength of our gem.

Now, I am dying under the dome of swift stones up there,
    And in hand, a stone dipped in my blood is left for my heir.
Kamila Jul 2021
It's been awhile since I'm in the road,
A ******* suitcase taken with myself,
I've tried to fit and carry my whole home,
But home's a feeling and a place.

And all the maps and changing routes,
Those random people I have met
Have brought no answers and no clues
To where I do belong and where I'm at.
Merlie T Jun 2021
The mounds of my sit bones
press firmly into the soil
Grass dampens me with mud-
moist from the water
just a few more feet down
GraciexJones Jun 2021
The Queen sat alone in her throne,
Drapes drawn across the window,
Sputtering candle flame by her side,
She sat there holding her heart in her hand,
Looking down she could see the veins are bruised
The colours red and blue had turned into a pale complexion,
Tears fell down her cheeks,
She starred up to see a red tapestries hanging above her bed,
The design on the tapestries was beautiful scenery,

The Queen remembered when she received the tapestries,
It was a gift from a sailor of the sea,
Each month he would come knocking on her door,
Sit down by her thrown and tell her of his adventures,
The Queen longed for those stories from the Sailor,
As she was unable to leave her castle to see the beautiful lands,

One day,
The Sailor had left her a gift,
He told her he would be going for a long trip,
He may not return for a while,
Queen took a deep breathe,
As she knew this might be the last time,
The Sailor insisted for the Queen to look at the tapestries,
To remind her of how beautiful the world can be
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