Annie 4h

Red roses
And your broken smile
Don't go
Please stay here for a while

We'll talk
About how the world will end
The dark theories
And the forgotten thread

The broken glass
And the moon lighting our faces
Feel the moment
Feel it before we leave our traces

In a hundred years
And days I can't count
These silk robes will smell like us
But we won't be here -we won't be found

I cannot look into her eyes
the soul of a mother long gone

I hate my face in the mirror
I dread the stranger within

My sunken brown eyes are faded
Like the falling sand,
the statue of my self is erased

Life is a joke,
and I'm the clown
I perform to an empty theater,
and laugh at my own shadow

The voices are in my head,
the puppets and the songs
the whisperers and the screams

When I lay in the dark,

I close my eyes,
to the howls of the demons inside

I'm married to the night

Someday I had hoped,
that when I'm done with my acts,

In the heavens,
where you live
We would laugh forever,
Like we always did

Sometimes I look into the mirror and i am not proud of what I have done, what I am , knowing deep within, that I have made my mother proud. Maybe I never will...

I used to write poetry,
quite prettily,
With flow and effervescent soul
Firm of form and splashed with
The color of a thousand heartbeats
Of dreams and tears and please-accept-me's,
Humble offers of a crumbling spirit
And you could hear it in my words
If you cared to put your ear to my shell,
The ocean in my broken heart churning
Threatening to swallow me whole.
I used to write poetry,
But times have changed,
seen me turn orange and
fall from my branch.
Dry and brittle on the forest floor
I feed the worms.
I feed the roots.
Summer is gone, and winter bears down.
I used to write poetry,
Now I chisel away pieces of
My stony disposition
And fantasize of the warmth
That once kept my heart aflame.

i’m tired
is what the depression is

i’m tired
when i lay my head
on my desk at school
as if sleep will save my life
trying to fade out of the picture
as teachers yell at me

i would say to them
if i had the chance
i am sorry i’m tired
because i am

but all i do is
say nothing except
“i’m tired”
when it speaks
one million meanings to me
that only i

You always wanted to be somebody
You chased an idea and you chased an image
I chased you but I lost you
And you lost your courage..

How does it feel to be just some body?

katalyn 1d

Almost eight billion souls
And all I see in them
is ur absence

katalyn 1d

I sit here and mourn
the lost of love
that never happened

dj mcc 1d

Imagine a world in which
you lived in a little house
in the middle of the woods --
an itty bitty cabin with creature
comforts and small necessities,
and paper and ink and tables and chairs --
in it
you slept and wept and dreamt,
and would walk and walk
never finding anywhere else...
always returning to your teeny front door.

The cabin sits in silence,
in semi-darkness most of the day --
the path of the sun moves
l a n g u i d l y
through the sky
and the neighboring trees
cast puddles of shade.

You wish for
though you
aren't sure
what that means.

along your garden fence
you find little bits of paper
or tissues
or wind-swept bottles
butting up against the slats.

The papers have names
and bits of stories:
of shootings and stabbings and
conniving schemers,
of donations and creations
and family boat-races;
and you wonder who these people are,
or if the pages are ripped
from some book you don't own --
and if the wind blows in
toward your tiny little home...
mustn't there be a way
to get out?

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