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Kat Aug 2018
there are two ways of speaking.



the mother tongue of our nation of two.

we tell each other tales that all end the same,

myths of devotion,

made of words usually indistinct, incomprehensible

big cats purring

the syntax of lovers who love blindly.



the language of breathing.

spoken on my island with the rain forests

and yours with hills of pure white snow

to see you I cross the bridge blindfolded,

beneath the sea of silence

where the echoes of sound and meaning fade,

leaving two strangers

not even able to give each other names.
Brent Kincaid Mar 2018
You didn’t notice
Because
You didn’t know us.
You were above us
Because
You didn’t love us.
You found us boring
So you were ignoring
As we suffered neglect
But yet
You demanded respect.
That we couldn’t detect
The love you didn’t reflect
Because
To you we were pains
All the proof that remained
When no profit was gained
Yet you moan about paying
Because
We're all still staying
Here around the family
Where there are no homilies
That save you from indignities
From being constantly haunted
By children you never wanted.
(If you are having trouble feeling sorry for any parent who feels like this about their children, join the club. I have the same trouble.)
Noel S Mar 2018
It could've been your smile that lightened up the world
It could've been a hand on your injured substance
It could've been an adoration, for eternity
But not, it was nothing but a overly realistic dream
A thing I think we all can relate to:
Lovelessness; the search for love; or a mere hope
L Seagull Jul 2017
Tied by a rope to the image
Of familiar comforting predictable
Misery seeing not the truth you cling
Like a baby to the cold hateful mother
She drags you through cities and islands of
Solitude filling you up on hate like
Rotten breast milk
They say you're a hopeless case
Unfit for true greatness for you have
So little to give
I say you Fear life more than death
Too many chances to take
Too many disappointments to endure
For the fickle heart Lost and confused
Child full of love
Don't listen to it's song
It only aims to fill you with disdain  
To embrace the hate in you
As one more comforting hateful failure
That proves it was right
All along
Something on a sense of pointlessness you get when watching someone digging its own grave. "He" or "she" doesn't really fit for a person who kills ones own humanity and intone who believes in it

Sometimes people mean so much to us for no apparent reason. And sometimes those people are so full of self hateread they'll **** you just to prove how hatable they truly are. Even if you are the only person in their life who cares about them, and they do care about you somewhere deep underneath all the layers of dirt they cover themselves with for protection. So you stay in the periphery because you are a solid enough person to understand it all and not let in the spit of a snake you knew was venomous. And because nothing it hisses in your direction matters unless you already though that about yourself. And if you do - the thing you need to deal with is yourself, not the snake. But it's impossible to have relationships with those types. So you just stay in case they need you, in case they ever dare to let humanity in. It is oh so scary to them, those little neglected and abused children full of hate
Aly Oct 2016
Nil
It placidly withers
like little Dahlias
settled on top of the cold marble
on the second week of November.
Leisurely fading
on the back of my brain
bestowing spaces
for new memories.
Until it becomes a blur
tiny dapples
freckles of different sunlight
augmented on different days
months
years.
Until almost immemorial.
Almost.
But then, he also withers
and so do I
and so does what we have.
Until one day,
it was nothing
but ashes
of the old fire.
VG E Bacungan May 2014
Such cruel portion.
Such vivid agony.
Such hopeless faith.
Such homeless heart.
All when love... departs.
Poetic Tantrums of Love; p.1

— The End —