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Leah Carr Mar 19
I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember how it feels

I can't remember how to breathe
What is it that breathing conceals?

I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember relaxation

I can't remember how to breathe
Is survival no longer my body's fixation?

I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember rest

I can't remember how to breathe
No life, is existence best?

I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember that relief

I can't remember how to breathe
What took it from me? Grief?

I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember how to live

I can't remember how to breathe
Have I nothing left to give?

I can't remember how to breathe
I can't remember the rush of fresh air

I can't remember how to breathe
But does anybody care?
Leah Carr Jan 22
You're broken and bruised
Been hurt and abused
Never have you known such pain
You're tired and confused
Been exploited and used
And you just can't go through that again

But there's something inside you
A growing flame
That from the ashes will rise
A tiny voice
that gets back up
and says "we will survive"

So break free of the guards
Look up to the stars
And run like there's no tomorrow
Enter into the light
Shout up to the night
And leave behind the sorrow

You're exhausted and drained
Been pushed and strained
Never have you needed rest so much
You're damaged and pained
Been scarred and stained
And you're in agony with every touch

But there's something inside you
A growing flame
That from the ashes will rise
A tiny voice
That gets back up
And says "we will survive"

So break free of the guards
Look up to the stars
And run like there's no tomorrow
Enter into the light
Shout up to the night
And leave behind the sorrow

You've pushed and tried
Laughed and cried
It's time to leave behind the sorrow
Leah Carr Dec 2020
Look at us.
What are we doing?
One teenager
Two young adults
All incredibly intelligent
Two incredibly unwell
One incredibly unstable
Trying to work things out

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Trying not to hurt each other
Yet be open and honest.
But honestly
None of us
Really know what to do

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Blindly clawing our way through problems
Way out of our depth
Pretending we know
how to handle them
Though we have no idea

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Acting like we're equals
When in reality
There is a clear, unwritten hierarchy
And whichever decision is made
It will undoubtedly leave one of us
Lost and in pain

Look at us.
What are we doing?
All as stubborn and forthright
as each other
Yet all doing our bests to be kind
We all need looking after
But have no-one to look after us
So we're stuck

Look at us.
What are we doing?
All unwilling to speak first
All scared of saying anything
In case we make a wrong move
So here we stay
In no-mans land
With everything unresolved

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Doing all this for my sake
Yet somehow
My opinions are not listened to
My needs are not met
Which makes me even more confused
Than I was before

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Stopping our communication
When we were finally getting somewhere
I want to respect your feelings
But to me it seems unfair
That we continue when I'm uncomfortable
Yet stop when you are

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Attempting to care for each other
While in no position to care for anyone
but ourselves
Some of us are better at faking smiles
Than others

Look at us.
What are we doing?
I'm obsessing over this.
While both of you have blocked it out
You have more to life than problems
But I don't
I wish I could manage like you can
Without any closure or answer

Look at us.
What are we doing?
Why can't we all just sit down together?
No distractions
No leaving
Until we reach a conclusion
Once and for
This shows the reality of a situation that I tell others is "fine"
Mrs Anybody Jan 2020
I hate small talk.
I'm not interested in the weather or this great tv show you just watched.
I don't want to know "what's up" when we could talk about so much more.

I want to know about your true self, about your biggest insecurities. About the things you're proud of, but never mention because you don't want to brag.

I want to know why you don't like the colour of your eyes or the form of your hands. Why you think your eyes are boring and why you think your hands are ugly.
But I also want to know what those eyes saw, what horror and what beauty they experienced. I want to know when and why they were filled with tears. Happy tears as well as sad tears.
I'm interested in all those amazing things those hands built - but I'm also interested in those, which they destroyed.

I want to know what the happiest memory of your childhood is. I want to know whether you liked to play in the sand or if you preferred to sit on the swing, feet high above the ground in the air.
I want to know what you miss about your childhood. Is it the carefree mind you once had or is it the happiness you felt because of the smallest things?

I want to know which traumas you fight with till this day. And how you cope with them. Did a dog once bit you and are you therefore still scared of them? Or does the loud echo of a thunder still make you uncomfortable?

I want to know which songs you listen to. What the lyrics behind your favourite songs mean to you. Do they make you think 'bout cold but cozy winter days? Or do they remind you of warm summer days spent in the sun, maybe even on a beach?
I want to know what path your thoughts are travelling when you're laying in bed at 3am while listening to a special song. Does it make you cry because it reminds you of someone? Or do you smile for the same reason?

I want to know all the dreams you have. How you got them and how you want to make them happen. I want to know whether you’d like to climb the mount Everest or if you want to go skydiving. But maybe your biggest dream is to get married to the person you love, your soulmate. Do you even believe in soulmates?

I want to know in what absurd things you believe in. Do you think aliens exist and maybe they're already between us? Do you believe that when you break a mirror, you've got 7 years bad luck or that the shatters bring good luck?

I want to know whether you believe that we humans will destroy and exterminate ourselves or if you believe that an asteroid will destroy us just the way another one destroyed the dinosaurs.

I want to know if you believe that we can change and influence our future or if you believe in fate and that god has everything planned out for us - or if you don't believe in god at all. And tell me; do you believe in karma?

I’m interested in all the things and humans who inspire you. Does music and poetry inspire you? Or do you feel inspired by someone’s development?  
I want to know what influence your family had and still has on you. Do you let them influence your opinions or don’t you let yourself be dissuaded? Did they raise you to be a kind human being or to shut down your feelings? And I want to know; what about your friends? How do they affect you?

You see, I hate small talk.
I want to talk about galaxies and aliens, destructions and creations.
I want to remember childhood memories, smells and nostalgias - but also childhood traumas.
I want to talk about karma, fate and god.
About insecurities and fears, about music and its influence.
I want to talk about all the dreams that you want to live up to, and everything that makes them burst.
I want to talk about everything you search for in a soulmate and how you feel, when you think of someone you're in love with.
I want to revive all the happy feelings you've ever felt, but also all the pain that sometimes drowned out the happiness.
I want to talk about all the things that made us feel more alive than we could've ever imagined - and about everything that broke us.

I want to talk about everything that makes us these imperfect, beautiful human beings that we are.
my thoughts about small talks
In the grey fogs of the cities -
Like mushrooms in the moist,
There grow beggars in the corners,
"Just a penny, sir!" - voiced.

You may find them in any genre;
Old men next to a jar,
Sad blokes without roof nor goods,
Lads playing a guitar.

All they want is only a coin-
Giving them needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be there,
Begging with them for alms.


Every time, I bypass by one,
My throat knots in a ball;
I feel an urge to seek coppers,
Always giving them all.

However, once it happened that-
I ran out of changes,
When an old gypsy woman was
Looking for my wages.

She blocked the entry of the shop:
"A coin, may God bless you!";
I excused: Now, I'm short of posh
While trying to get through.


She grabbed my arm and hugged my waist:
"My dear, my kids need food!"
Get out of my way, you witch! - thought,
"Witch?! You'll pay for b'ing rude!"

I was shocked: What, she read my mind?!
She spat between my eyes,
Hugged me harder than a python-
While murmuring weird rhymes.

"Pale face - hard heart, now you will pay,
Pale heart - hard face, you'll own!"
I fear'd if there were watching crowds,
But none, I've seen none, none.


The witch's gone as if never been,
Leaving my eyes in pain;
Taking my sight away, to say:
Oh my God! Am I sane?!

No doctor could cure my blindness:
"Nah, you must pretend it."
Then, a charlatan informed me:
"You're cursed, I'm sure of it".

Knowing being cursed let me sick;
"You'll need her to be cleansed",
But how to find her in Paris?
Been blinded and uneased.


I digged through the darkest quarters,
Meeting gypsy kings and hags;
Though, they were all laughing at me:
"A witch-beldam who begs?!"

My dispair led me to the shop:
Maybe, I'll find her here;
Time has strained my face and my heart,
Begging there year to year.

"All I want is only a coin-
Giving me needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be here,
Begging with me for alms."
Published in Constantine the Bridge Poem Collection.

Written in 2017, Oktober 11, Algeria.
Trefild Sep 2019
my time is wasted, yours is still up to you

some words go US Eng, some go UK Eng
so inside the word-dividing "[ ]" is the chosen sound
speaking of which, to hell with the "æ" sound
the stress marks aren't for nothing
if some words look like they're out of context or something
check dictionaries for meanings

‣ don't categorize this O̲nset as a boast
‣ but, next to some triflin' social nE̲twork posts
‣ that length-wise are like a pair of shorts
‣ from attires O̲f can-shakin' girls
‣ or ones that gyre on a metal pole
‣ this HIGHLY JOYFUL blend of words
‣ is kind of an extension cord (what?); hence, if your
‣ ceilin' is readin' them posts
‣ or if you're simply a kiddie, get lo[ɒ]st
‣ like somebody a[ɑ]fter donnin' headphones
‣ do a runner like in sled sports
‣ a little bit outta 𝒹ℴ𝓈 with 𝓉𝓇ℯ𝓈 O's [2000]
‣ which is the number of the next words
[just letting you know, maybe it would scare you away]
‣ come with a vengeance like I am Shady [the one who's Slim]
‣ that's why a couple of ways ta describe what's takin'
‣ place (and your time) are a rhyme inundation with a[ɑ]mmo-sprayin'
[but I guess you "aren't really surprised at that"]
‣ a divine operatin' since I'm at makin'
‣ mY̲ pieces ma[e]rried; it's like a weddin'
‣ so, if you still haven't absqua[ɑ]tulated & are go[ɑ]nna make it
‣ through this pile of letters to the final sentence
‣ sto[ɑ]ck up on patience is my suggestion (for you)
[I need Joe Budden here with his "you have rhymed a bunch of words"]
‣ no prizes for guessin' politeness ain't present
‣ LA[ɑ]CK good intentions like VIOLATIVE
[US Eng "lock"]
‣ oh, & there's somethin' else the
‣ eruptin' pen has go[ɑ]tta mention like some Russian placeman
[got a mansion]
‣ seizin' this occasion, would like to give tha[e]nks ta
‣ Em & Kelly provided me with some inspiration
[Eminem; Machine Gun Kelly]
‣ enough with the preparation
‣ it's about time to shift to the narration
[still here? you don't value your time as hell]
‣ erstwhile one typical child
‣ by which I imply witless & wild
‣ went through hell & nearly flatlined
‣ maybe on my way from bein' alive
‣ took place somethin' like "access denied"
‣ or perhaps the figure disguised
‣ in black & wieldin' a scythe
‣ havin' seen me, was like:
‣ "it is too early for you, nipper, besides
‣ you've done nix to deserve it, so you're finna
‣ survive"
‣ joke-cra[ɑ]ckin' regardin'
‣ the fa[ɑ]ct that in the pa[ɑ]st, he nigh ca[ɑ]shed in
‣ hi̲s chips a[ɑ]s if it's somethin'
‣ to lau[ɑ]gh at, like a jA̲[ɑ]cka## that's fine with
‣ wi[ɪ]ndin' up in a ca[ɑ]sket, like life is
‣ a thing which can be acquired
‣ I'm not the only one of such kind, am I❓
‣ should be grateful since was rescued
‣ should appreciate & take pleasure in life
‣ but it seems that could-be-fatal thing I wE̲nt through
‣ isn't enough for me to│bE̲ this way;│I'ma place that aside
‣ despite the told in them funereal lines
‣ I'm totally no[ɑ]t set to die (no way)
‣ unless the thing is locks-wise
‣ hopefully, the la[ɑ]st days of mine
‣ are a mind-blowingly long way from nigh
‣ but what an iro[ɑ]nic cloud's gon' get rainin' [get training]
‣ like bombshells; time, the thought that I'm runnin' out of this brakele[ɪ]ss [breakless]
‣ companion of life, which is jo[ɑ]lly elatin'
[the thought]
‣ that b#tch was pO̲[ɑ]ppin' in lately
[told you I will make some irony]
‣ hunted me down like a scent hound!
["don't grow up, it's a trap"]
‣ had more of such kind of co[ɑ]ntent, yet now
‣ that sh#t's cut the hell out
‣ like them pro[ɑ]sts/tarts that were found
‣ inside & around the Whi̲techapel grounds
‣ aside from po[ɑ]lishin' up
‣ like what's done to beautiful cars
‣ don't see a more a[ɑ]pposite o[ɑ]pt.
‣ of what to do with these bars
‣ I've gO̲[ɑ]t than to dro[ɑ]p
‣ even though they don't look to be bo[ɑ]mbs
‣ and would never... (and that's where I flub)
‣ I mean, though it's appa[e]rent [a parent]
‣ like an individual tha[ɑ]t has go[ɑ]t a
‣ crotch fruit to raise
‣ as long as lyrical stuff is no[ɑ]t on
‣ a track, it, similarly to a train
‣ that's in similar sta[ɑ]tus, doesn't
‣ differ much from│bE̲in' of zip│use or vain
‣ a tra[ɑ]ck, why don't I mA̲ke one?
‣ oh, you know, I'm like a groupie/rookie nE̲w biz. [newbies]
[couldn't decide which one to choose, so it's up to you]
‣ of which is runnin' a large-sized corporation
‣ but regardin' producin'/cookin' music
‣ but not that I've taken a run at tha[ɑ]t
‣ additionally, due to my Eng. la[ɑ]ng.
‣ proficiency which I def. la[ɑ]ck
‣ I cannO̲[ɑ]t speak fine e█ough, much less ra[ɑ]p
[but not that I want to rap]
‣ while lyrically, I've pro[ɑ]b'ly go[ɑ]t
‣ a lo[ɑ]t of cra[ɑ]p
‣ like some █oli█ical h█gh mucky-m█ck
[a small puzzle for you]
‣ about to deliver a pile of cla[ɑ]ptra[ɑ]p
‣ nah, politics is quite a qua[ɑ]g
‣ and not my thing ta get plunged i̲nto
‣ so I'm not finna any deeper
‣ a walkin' flo[ɑ]p, pathetic, wa[ɑ]ck
‣ as... the "T&DVE" "DMITTE" squa[ɑ]d's bad luck
["Tucker & Dale vs. Evil"; "didn't make it to the end"]
‣ had go[ɑ]tten sla[ɑ]pped by a mental self-atta[ɑ]ck
‣ soon after gO̲[ɑ]t up, but
‣ not even the slightest shred of bein' perplexed or sho[ɑ]cked
‣ cool as someO̲ne that pa[ɑ]ssed
[dead people are pretty cool, if you know what I mean]
‣ yet that doesn't change a problem: I might sna[ɑ]p
‣ like an inflated bubble gum might po[ɑ]p
‣ outcomes?
‣ not worldwide unforgettable
‣ like the "after Thanos" ones
‣ although mi̲ght be regrettable
‣ nah, the rhymer's not 𝓁ℴ𝒸ℴ
‣ except that a mite a sleepwa[ɔ]lker
‣ so, bein' near him O̲nce he has rolled in
‣ it's better to bear inso[ɑ]mnia or be
‣ with your E̲Y̲E̲s peeled like girls seen
‣ on the sides of "*******" zines
‣ as much of a ta[ɔ]lker as this troublesome work or
‣ the Jared Leto type of the Joker is on point
‣ like Deadshot with a **** abuttin' his shoulder
‣ once he's go[ɑ]t a hit order, or no[ɑ]t mediocre
‣ comparin' the fi̲rst one with Em's "CampA̲I̲gn Speech" verse &
‣ that jester in purple with Heath Ledger's version
‣ do you know what that is? a foursome
[apart from Deadshot, of course]
["that was f#cking stupid..."]
‣ although, in terms of co[ɑ]ntent invo[ɒ]lvedness
‣ next to somethin' from Marshall, mY̲ text is nO̲-frills
‣ it's a trifle, recognizin' that there are vau[ɔ]ltfuls
‣ of mumble rap & pop au[ɔ]thors
‣ nothin' short of a cra[ɑ]shin' bore that
‣ you'll pro[ɑ]b'ly never meet in person
‣ a VASTLY GOOD self-review!
‣ though there are some worthier attributes of mine too
‣ bein' not much over 18, I'm sober & clean (have A̲lways been)
‣ I̲ don't give... a slU̲g or stick for whA̲t you think
‣ regA̲rdin' it & what you're abO̲U̲t to think
‣ but I̲ believe sobriety is qU̲I̲te a thing to be prO̲U̲d of in
‣ twenty ni̲neteen; in reality, my blO̲O̲dy ears
‣ haven't even heard how gO̲[ɑ]blets clink
‣ when it cO̲mes to "cheers"
‣ only when that stU̲ff was seen [scene]
‣ on the screen; yep, certainly no[ɑ]t one who's
‣ fine with takin' smO̲kin' sh#t, drugs, & *****
‣ fO̲r it gives nothin' good
‣ if you're in disagreement with this opinion
‣ for you, I have the bird sent to/pU̲t into the skies [get it?]
‣ like what's done at weddings/funerals sometimes
‣ come to think of it, this whole world is wonderful, lovely
‣ once you sink i̲nto it, feelin' bored is somethin' unlikely
‣ just imagine some of its fillings [feelings]
‣ woman-beatin', rapists, dope production & -dealin'
‣ human-eatin', racists, mass shootings, other so indis–
‣ –pensable violence & killings
‣ US PEACE OFFicers [****]
‣ twistin' those guys' A̲rms to ge[ɪ]t
‣ 'em to read somethin' that's on **̲w to deal
‣ with non-threatenin' ones pro[ɑ]perly
‣ perhA̲ps would be quite sO̲U̲nd to fill
‣ lA̲pses bet–ween spans of ti̲me in which they're projE̲ctin' lead
‣ or exerci̲sin' in some "breathtA̲king" sh#t
‣ not that vi̲ral thing brought by K.C. Reeves
‣ knockO̲U̲t as re–gards protE̲ctin' peeps
‣ call it attacops (attack ops)
[guess what they have in common with people writing diss raps; both like taking shots]
‣ and the ro[ɑ]tten 5-O's (rotten)
‣ somewhat cut frO̲[ɑ]m the same clo[ɔ]th
‣ a boot in the belly retributed for gettin'
‣ in the way a group of them's headin'
‣ no addin' fuel when protestin'
‣ still they have their clubs operatin'
‣ like venU̲E̲s to attend if/when
‣ you fancy dance music & bevvies
‣ but their main undertakin'
‣ is perhaps case-fabricatin'
‣ like one containin' your raiment
‣ that you take on vacation
‣ combin' thrO̲U̲gh social netwO̲rks ta
‣ capture another commE̲nter, "ruthless" like a roadster
‣ on tO̲[ɑ]p of 'em there are terrorists
‣ prone to drO̲[ɑ]ppin in with their bA̲[e]ngin' gifts
‣ pro[ɑ]bably one of the wE̲ttest dreams...
‣ of patientless psychiatrists & psychotherapists
‣ somebody rhymes, cooks beats, does what helps
‣ ones in need; sO̲mebody's like obsessed
‣ with kinds of things O̲U̲t of which there's that mess
‣ this blue mA̲rble is a wasp nest
‣ inasmU̲ch as each one's possessed
‣ of a lO̲[ɑ]t of ****** to distress
‣ somebody's hind-end
[also: "hornet's nest"; "pain in the..."]
‣ some mi̲ght think, why am I so negative?
‣ it's a blood tY̲pe thing [get it?]; plus, arrived a pessimist
‣ but thrustin' puns aside, no[ɑ]t jestingly
‣ guess that is a way sO̲mebody just tE̲nds to be
‣ and in this bar-dumpin', I ain't nigh the E̲nd of it
[to all the positive ones out there, do you ever take off your "pyrovision goggles"?]
‣ referrin' to things skewin' normality
‣ here's one occurrence from this *******-up reality
‣ turnin' into that kind a[ɔ]lso partially
‣ owin' to sh#t sti̲rrin' up in virtuality
‣ a successful young belle
‣ did away with herself
‣ thanks to a key-presser brigade
‣ that, bein' online, wE̲nt off the chain
‣ havin' come at her by way of a range
‣ of offensive things said
‣ effin' insane...
[some people remain the same, some things take place over and over again; getting the connection?]
‣ can't help but arrange
‣ a stanza addressin' the case
‣ and gettin' revenge on them cads, reprobates
‣ that are gonna catch it like blade
‣ 'cause I'm rather awake [a wake]
[by the way, recognizing the rhyme pattern? probably not]
‣ servin' up some guidance
‣ on how to dispose of them unki̲nd ones
‣ ga[ɑ]g the pieholes to ge[ɪ]t 'em quiet
‣ like a bO̲neyard keeper's ni̲ght shift
‣ becau[ɔ]se their rea[ɑ]ctions to what's on the horizon
‣ would be exa[ɑ]ctly the opposite of silence
‣ begin the show of impoliteness
‣ with the finger bones, familiarize 'em with a pi̲pe wrench
‣ to inflame the fire
‣ the fingers meet a fi̲ne-edged kitchen knife &
‣ 𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝒾́𝓃ℊ𝓊𝒶𝓈 meet a pair of jewelry-makin' pliers
‣ each member belongin' to the fleshly parties gets coerced
‣ into one-time, though to-be-engraved-on-mind *******
‣ in the course of which they E̲nd up ****** divorced
‣ in connection with the bo[ɑ]dies, like a wife & a husband
[a wicked end of relationships, on a rewardingly and wicked low note; slang ↑s used]
‣ havin' go[ɑ]tten 'em trU̲ssed up
‣ dro[ɑ]p 'em off by a railroad & await the arrival
‣ of a train like a part of a bride-to-be garment
‣ once one gets close, lay 'em on the rails in the style of
‣ Leoni[aɪ]das, "300"
‣ wherea[ɑ]fter there go their operational cycles
‣ it's a wrap like a bag wontly linin' a trA̲[ɑ]sh bin
‣ which is somethin' to o[ɑ]pt for to pA̲[ɑ]ck up
‣ what's left of the sli̲meballs if such measures were rightful
‣ R.I.P. to August Ames
‣ I might be no[ɑ]t of this world
‣ don't even have a go[ɑ]ddamn smartphO̲ne
‣ some *****-po[ɑ]sitive girl
[pick some another offensive adjective]
‣ most likely wa[ɑ]nts to the bone
‣ plus, to count pictures of me
‣ taken in the last several yea[ɪ]rs by my will
‣ fingers would be
‣ needless like the ones that are owned
‣ by the maltreaters whose wrists
‣ I've slapped with my previous schemes
‣ there's zilch of them pics
‣ as the thing with that sh#t's
‣ that I simply don't see
‣ much meanin' of it
[don't even think about reading "you've" in the next line as "you have", it ruins the rhyme-scheme]
‣ know what you might be thinkin', you've missed
‣ if you have chalked that up to my visuals, *****/b#tch
‣ keepin' the talk on the theme of digital things
‣ and revertin'
‣ to not havin' a smart dog & bO̲ne, ex–
‣ –cept the one that's not workin'
‣ if the first thought of yours is
‣ that's for I can't afford it
‣ meet a piece of nE̲ws, which [*******; new switch]
‣ is that you're amiss like "Sin City" Goldie
[a miss]
‣ you're deluded (yeah), if not even stupid
‣ I'm just not like: "I really need it, wa[ɒ]nt it"
‣ guess there's not much need for mE̲ to use it
‣ while, like some within-a-church/kirk sh#t
‣ them digi. toolkits
‣ are nearly bein' worshipped
‣ a new religion loomin'
‣ somebody, help them a[ɑ]ddicts
‣ whose smartphones are like
‣ extensions of their bo[ɑ]dies
‣ whose eyeba[ɔ]lls are stuck
‣ on the screens like on a jelly's a[ɑ]ssets
‣ still, like they got attra[ɑ]cted by a ******* ma[ɑ]gnet
‣ plus, the way today's people a[ɑ]ct
‣ when somethin' thrillin' is ha[ɑ]ppenin'
‣ I'm merely statin' a fa[ɑ]ct
["I had Wembley Stadium packed"; sorry, got distracted again]
‣ they're on some paparazzi sh#t - filmin' & snA̲[ɑ]ppin' it
‣ when some geek is gettin' his ****
‣ kicked by some ***** he's unwillingly scrA̲[ɑ]ppin' with
‣ then they go to a social nE̲twork & just
‣ opportunistically drO̲[ɑ]p the sh#t
‣ have been listenin' tO̲ some rhyme-spittin'
‣ havin' little to pU̲t my time i̲nto
‣ that's what set the scE̲ne for this fU̲tile ℯ𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶
‣ (but it's still not a [w]rap)
‣ speakin' of which, maybe I̲ de-emphasize it
‣ and this is a reach, nonetheless what I̲ think
‣ is that it turned out kind of unexcitin' (yep, self-criticizin')
‣ what is the pro[ɑ]blem? O̲ne thing that I̲ can
‣ say for certain is I̲ went pri̲ma[ᵊ]rily for rhymin'
[hence the title "some guy decided to rhyme"]
‣ in part becau[ɔ]se I, of course, lack in terms
‣ of plays on words & metaphors
‣ but/yet suppose it could have been worse
‣ at least, no sentence goes with a senseless boast
‣ about wealth & hoes, or about sellin' dope
‣ and gettin' ******, which, as well as those
‣ seem to be what among today's listeners flies the most
‣ if that's sta[eɪ]tus quo, "Mayday, go–
‣ –in' down" is what the time's come for
‣ other words, that plainly blows
‣ like that Hellfire broad
‣ and it seems the nobo[ɑ]dy has kinda a thing for "iing" [eyeing]
‣ but it has nada to do with wa[ɑ]tchin'
‣ after a[ɑ]ll the indited
‣ someone else woulda pro[ɑ]bably wondered/been likely to wonder:
‣ "why do not I̲ be–come a songwriter?"
‣ funny or no[ɑ]t, but jo[ɑ]lly iro[ɑ]nic
‣ find the 'bove o[ɑ]ption highly unlikely
‣ wa[ɑ]nnabe rhymer, time-squa[ɑ]nderin' idler
‣ you must be a little bit [beat]
‣ if no[ɑ]t even pretty, sick
‣ of receivin' the sh#t of mine or E̲ven just seein' it
‣ well, this lyrical binge, despite not succeedin' at killin' it
‣ I'm fixin' ta finish it
‣ like an "MK" participant's i̲n this b#tch
["Mortal Kombat"]
‣ if you've made it to these words
‣ give a few seconds of applau[ɔ]se
‣ not to me, to yourself, of course
‣ the precious time of yours
‣ is wasted like a pers.
‣ after a lot of drinks; it's an L; 𝒶𝒹𝒾ℴ́𝓈
Natasha Bailey May 2019
When the seas, all seven, align and combine,
To form one tide, do you believe we have a selection, to
Reside, hide and remain alive?
Or is that our mind tryna confide,
In our own made lie, afraid to die?
If the angels rein down a path to heaven,
I wish to accept, find, listen and abide,
Until I arrive.
Once I’ve arrived at my final destination,
Only then will I quit the investigation,
Quit the pacing,
Where thoughts are constantly racing.
End of days where I communicate,
Debate and question every nation.
An owl of silent observation,
Mixed with a perfection I can imagination,
To relate,
To create,
And modulate,
An exhilarating answer to the allegation,
Fact or fiction,
Which is resurrection?
Such unbelievers, who claim afterlife is an illusion,
Unaware that they are too, just bait,
Heading straight,
Into the great,
Hands of fate.
The weight of the truth,
And proof,
In representation of resurrection,
Cannot be ignored, just like an antique china plate,
Or a mate,
Who’s at times, difficult to tolerate.
It’s inevitable,
So renumerate,
Your pure self, and reinstate,
To the Golden Slate Gate.
Enter your new estate,
Where you are enchanted with the power of illumination.
Before you can await,
The glorious one who turns death into rebirth,
Giving your soul a chance to resurrect,
Recreate, and once again illuminate.

-me, myself and I
Christina Maria Mar 2019
Stuck in this world that I thought was once perfect
Trapped here with no hope of rescue
My soul is tormented each day
This is my personal hell

This is real and it is true, I'm stuck here
This person won't let me leave

Why won't he let me leave?
Doesn't he care about how I feel?

Aren't you supposed to sacrifice if you love someone?
Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

Why won't he do this for me?
Why doesn't he let me leave?

I thought he loved me
But I was wrong

He loved how I loved him
Even thought I don't
I lied

I stayed because I was lonely
But now I'm trapped and I rather be lonely instead

Why did I do this to myself?
What was I thinking?

I wasn't in the right state of mind when I started this
It's all my fault
My reality is shifted

I can't see the future
I don't have hope

I think I'm stuck here like this forever

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