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laur 44m
why do you look so blue,
tell me,
what is bothering you?
a lovely pure soul i wish was left untouched
was groped inappropriately
by the hands of toxicity and hatred of others
but she continues to emit light
to this dark lonely life of mine,
not quite thriving yet she is still alive.
she may not believe but she is my everything,
i look at her with eyes only full of love and admiration,
i am an awe as she stares back at me-
i see these sparkles in her eyes like no other
and she still smiles widely
through the waves of pain,
this is why i love you
but please remember,
i am always here.
astraea 1h
some days are colder than they are
warm.
and others are like stars in the sky
-lanterns in an otherwise endless night.

some days you wonder if you should try to leave at all,
if you should just go back to your books,
your music.
and other times you show your face to the world,
dance in clothes that you no longer hide in.

some days you agree that you’re ****,
worthless,
useless,
and you allow them to draw their brushes across your faces,
making you pretty.

pretty. you’d never know.

and others say we tell them that we’re all beautiful,
but we sure aren’t pretty,
and there’s nothing wrong with our insides,
or perhaps the way we’ve chosen to show ourselves
-it’s all perfect.

every **** bit.

some days we feel as if our worries,
heartache,
sadness,
emptiness
make this life worthless,
and we believe that that’s all we have
-that they’re worth ending it all over.

we’re wrong.

nothing’s worth that
-there are beautiful things like love,
courage,
smiles,
songs,
and our very own lives.

as ****** up as we may think they are.
i've had an emotionally intense weekend. guys don't let the world convince you to harm/**** yourself. NOTHING IS WORTH KILLING YOURSELF OVER.  it's a lie that you can't fit in this world -we all have our places here, and yours is worth living for. and if you hate it, get a new one. love you all.
Seema 1h
Pooled in disgust
In the arms of a fool
My skin seems to burst
By his lustrous drool

The evil desires that spill
Gives shivers to my soul
It is of not my will
To be in such a role

Touched to places
Flames rise, high in pole
Strapping the laces
Seeking his ultimate goal

The pain aches pleasure
In his deaf ears
Nibbling bits to bites
My cries he hears

Now, on the natures bed
He pushes me back
Gasping over my head
Clenching his teeth on my neck

As I cried and he hissed
Like that of a snake
Crawling and being kissed
For a 'NO', he could not take

The nightmares spread
With a foul smell
Sheets covering red
From an unknown spell

His breath fading
Lying heavy on my chest
I pulled myself together
To be with the rest

Red zone or prostitution
Is not a self led to many
Neither it's an institution
To earn a penny...



©sim
Spilling thoughts. Not my story.
gracie 3h
life takes one off guard.
like standing behind a wall made of dark stone,
living as prey waiting to be tackled by its predator.
i’m an innocent song bird with honeycomb bones,
and you are the green eyed tabby cat about to pounce.
your claws rip out my feathers and the pain feels like boiling water running through my veins.
my wings are wilted and i cannot see to peck at your soft eyes.
you pierce your fangs into my neck and take me home to sit me on the doorstep.
my blood is diseased and i’m tossed in the road with hands clad in blue gloves.
you, the tabby cat, lick your paws clean of my filth and hunt for another.
my sisters and brothers all sit in the branches along the trees waiting to hear my song.
but, my song is crushed beneath a set of wheels and my remains are scattered before the doorstep i was once laid upon.
the maggots infest my brain and it’s almost as if i can feel their microscopic teeth.
but, this isn’t me.
this isn’t who i want to be.
a maggot infested game.
the prey for a predator,
slain on red brick steps.
If my Life allowed me to
Love you a thousand times over,
I’d do so— die. And ask Heaven
to borrow eternity with you.
Just another love poem
Such
a simple life,
so hard
to live.
What a
mutant pain
so compacted kiss.

This verdict
was for me.
Unable to meet a prophet.
You can fall
in line to lose.
What a
brilliant muse.
Something crazy you have done.
Started hunting me.

A visual dilemma.
Half a loaf was not sufficient,
for the hungry ears.

Nonviolently, it was in the blood.
A serial killer wants a game daily.

Fidelity was very evident. Someone
waits for the moon, every night
standing in water.

As a conduit by a thrifty wind,
your message comes voicelessly.

Absently you weigh heavy,
like a smoke ring, through which
a flame went.
I am not shy to be a woman.
I am not shy to raise my voice.
I am not shy to own my body.
I am not what others pour their hatred upon me.
Oh! So many hurts and slur comments;
Labels and taglines your pour on a woman who earn their *****.
" Unedited, Raw and Unabashedly"
Take me for who I am.
You think it is not ladylike to sit or pose.
And if you think I care;
I don't owe anyone an explanation.
Talk The Talk.
Raise your Voice if you wanna be heard.
An empty home
A hollow threshold
A vacant hearth
A stepping stone
A missing person
I’m a father
That’s at least what I tell myself
Just to make it through the day
Friend to only the shadows
The realistic version of them
What am I to you
Another broken smile
A desolate soul
Lost to my own sanity
Barely grasping insanity
Another shadow crossing the floor
A whisper buried under bedrock
A catalyst of dark emotions
Crawling under a single layer
Of skin people thought were stone
The only thing saving me
Is too small to realize
Her existence is the fuel to mine
I wonder what I am to you
A doll to be toyed with
A guardian to hide behind
I wish I knew
So telling you I love you
Would be easier
I wouldn’t doubt the response
My voice carries no weight
Emotions in ICU
Waiting for you to care
Yet I’m barely a footnote
Have I let my hope for love
My desire to never be alone
Consume my faith as a man
I’ve always believed
Actions spoke louder then words
Every action you take
Pushes me to a different ledge
Threatening her happiness
I try to hold on
To memories yet not made
In hopes I’ll be able to make them
Yet this coffin I live in
Carved on every inch
“No” in repetition
How is my life suppose to measure up
When I’ve been smothered out
How can my death be beautiful
When I’ve never lived
What am I to you
What am I suppose to do
How do I do it
Without hurting the one I love
How do I leave her
Without missing a moment
Without leaving a scar
While still being able to say
I love you and mean it
How do I explain my life
How do I value it
Can I even call it worth anything
I’ve hurt many before
Regretted every moment
Begged for salvation
Prayed for answers
Whispered sweet nothings
To a cloaked figure
Yet all I ever find is more questions
Masked in more depression
So I ask again
What am I to you
Will my saving grace be only an infant or do you really value me and all I have to offer
Flaws, are they not beautiful? Explain, describe what you are without them. Agreed, the wonders of the body and soul are what most search for, the island of quirks is often invisible enough. That is worrisome, even gods of old, wore these, wore them and shared them. Our mortality is clarity with them, no matter the divinity in our roots.

Simple little flaws, a rather significant part of who we indeed are.

I’d dare to say: in the end, we marry the flaws, not the perfection.
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