Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gray Dawson Nov 2019
Head cut off
Mouth ripped out
Left without a way to cough
Without a way to pout

Forced to keep quiet
By the rulers of the ears
No place to riot
People are running from their own fears

Officials hate a mess
People don’t like a lot of wrecks
So the only way is to suppress
At least in the eyes of the press
Verbatim Lynnie Nov 2019
Days awake in unwell sleeping patterns,
Mechanical days are flourishing, I've
Kinda wished everything wasn't so fast;
I kinda wish I wasn't alive.
I was taken away within stabilization,
Carried in the means of unstable air.
Bury me, I scream, reassurance is blared,
I open in the truths of holding no care.
I doted on ideations,
Creating my world wielded in shame.
Crested on my darkest demons,
Resting with every ounce of blame.
My molecules are crying out,
"The world uses broken tools"
If only this world understood me,
And the impulsivity of oncoming abuse.
Inside I am an unkempt person,
And days are passing more than I know.
I gifted your works with my happiness,
And it is now time that I let you go.
I can't forgive you but I can
Forgive myself for loving you.
Goodbye mom
My mom isnt a good person and I have to let her go in order to let myself heal
John H Dillinger Nov 2019
Living in a told truth tyranny

Luscious lullaby's sung insidiously

Malicious mantras meant to manipulate me



I just dream that you forget about me.
Ginn Mosxa Nov 2019
You feed the beast his daily bread
And wish him well, to hold high his head

But you don't care of his emotional state
You're simply assuring you're not
The next on his plate.
Edited 6/8/2022
RatQueen Nov 2019
Maybe we were drawn together
at fragile time
We saw too much
and accepted this as a paradigm

It makes me sick
what made you tick
was justifying lies
Standing proud
your tiny shroud
your pedestal of grime

And then I broke
you made me choke
on all our little pieces
I spit and sputtered everywhere
watched them float into the creases

Meanwhile my masterpiece was
painting pretty pictures of us
Displaying them
relaying them
in all 4 different seasons

I showed them off to others
exhausted to the core
While I scoured
for our precious tiny pieces on the floor

You stood above me smirking
taller than the sky
You knew I'd never find them
you knew that I'd just cry

One day I just stopped looking
and now I know thats good
Now I draw the line
between I can
and when I should

No longer am I hunched and crunched
on my knees and on my hands
Searching through the carpet fibers
through the dirt
and through the sand

But there's something that I never knew
When I finally said enough
When I held my head up high
And decided to be tough

They said that you would lie to me
And promise to be better
They said that you would write to me
apologies and letters

They said all sorts of tiring things
That I one day saw as true
I didn't want to see it
That the monster was just you

They said that I'd be better off
Once I finally leave
But they never told me years from now
I'd still be missing parts of me
TW: a story of an abusive relationship
Simon Oct 2019
A fulcrum to a virus, is stabilizing the charge of negativity in the bodies natural system. The heart feels it’s blood rippling with contractions. Main internal organs feeling the depth at which disturbance is relative to the norm. The norm being (activity) in the face of hustling environmental situations. Outside your system, or inside isn’t contrary by any means. It’s the same as if it were simple inputs reacting in a form able to move on its own accord. Syncing with the outputting world. Activity starting to measure itself for the greater good. A judgment calls in the face of closing a deal. The deal is finally running into something meant for challenges to address the norm from growing stale too early to experiment. Experiments meant to mold something that’s already in preparation. Waiting for the call to the fulcrum making ends meet with the negativity taking effect. Stronger as the virus who is used to surroundings of this caliber. An arsenal made to manufacturer imprints onto your biological code of conduct. Operating a system’s (will) against its own preparations. A set up of different fulcrums into the breath of negativities process. A virus! Virus includes its force of adjustment in the form of flaying innocent diagrams. Innocent diagrams pinpointing the exact locations which the virus could have a better hold of a body’s systems to executing its process of negativity. Spreading this unusual influence will boost the construct’s own fulcrum. So now it’s virus’s fulcrum versus body’s fulcrum? Can’t predict what hasn’t started processing the experiment. Knowing that much, will scare your interpretations from ever taking true shape. Never appreciating another awareness again. Only as long as it’s needed to accomplish it’s objective. Virus or systems encased in a body formation. There more alike then you think. Giving credit away from what is truly obvious. Virus…bad. No virus…good. The virus might as well shove its fulcrum right down your throat! Forcing you to understand just how premature you sound. Experiments issued by the systems controls, enacting a system wide preparation. Conceding balance controls. Its preparations already tested itself enough in its own environment. Its own tools and mechanisms ready for performance. Components never shy away from a challenge. Unless you’re a conscious base simplifier? Wanting nothing more then to not issue such orders. Getting in the way for a conscious system never understanding its own velocities bouncing one second to the next. It’s sometimes a burden in the light. Focusing on too much, is sometimes a headache waiting to run you dry! Virus prompting the systems desire to accept its fulcrums challenge. Respecting the process of negativity to run it’s course. Tempting the virus to not drown its components too easily. Virus tempted to act. Systems body waiting for virus to take the obvious bait. Which is too good to be true? If only the rules of different fulcrums were to make a biological check under the hood. Everything wouldn’t be so confusing, repetitive, or complicated. The list doesn’t go on and on. It lapses with the same circulation of promises to act on certain flaws that are made out to be one-sided believe and claim. When it’s actually the one-sided always tipping the scale in the end. Concluding the advantages of two opposites never winning the same side as itself. One-sided meant for only one giant slice of balance can be met. Never completely diminishing the result thorough to its points of interest. Interest is already exasperating its body language! Process of negativity is openly resonating from deep inside. Cells becoming soggy. Filled with disbelieve in itself. Trying to interlock messages out toward other neighbouring cells of similar placements. A cell being no more different then someone’s own home. Space reacting to your design. You’re believe system. Instincts holding sturdy promises to the experiment. Which meets every expectation available? A heated discussion between the spaces of cells. Something is radiating those spaces between ties uncut by regular motives. Fulcrums don’t imagine well. It’s a circumstance of visuals, and feeling. Nothing more to hold your own full of reflective potential in remaining stable between your relations. Don’t let yourself become uncomposed in the face of negativities actions. The virus is cunning. Yet ill tempered. Never hesitating to take the whole neighbouring block out with itself. Annihilating itself over the control of its fulcrums (want’s and needs). Diverse a charge to big for complications to arise out from the self replication that is voting the fulcrums negativity to higher platforms. Frequencies ricocheting back and force. Like kids bouncing from phase to phase, in order to find themselves. A dust settled in wrong claims of itself. The experiment was a sham. Virus has been tricked! Tricked by its own flawless nature. The system rejoices the claim of servitude. You were never really supposed to willingly action our will to newer adaptions. It’s tolerable to think two sides of the same coin, could ever amount peace. A peaceful remedy too powerful for the likes of a mere prisoner. The virus gasps in suppression. Never dislocating influence back into the stream of fulcrums not yet devised to join it’s cause. A cause made up. No servitude. Except for one ego rising better than the other. Becoming its own worse enemy. A self reflecting charge full of gimmicks too in denial and childish to RIP succession apart! The virus speaks one last time. I-I…thought we had a deal?! Now how does a deal go unaddressed, when we didn’t notify each other of such claims? The prisoner is escaping! Hold it for ransom?! The fulcrum of systems body, sinisterly grins delight. Let’s test the strength of similar brethren. In the attempt to draw more to our immaculate system of faithful desires!
A deceiver in the light, thinking it’s the deceiver in the dark. Mixed communications through tightened visuals of appealing the issue. Judges something not what it seems to be at first.
Simon Oct 2019
Like probability. Fate exhibits the constraints to a more tolerable atmosphere at heart. The heart of an atmosphere, is the atmosphere functioning with a heart. Completely one sided. Never admitting who’s mentions are who. Whose opinions mattered the absolute most. Options become tiresome. Tolerable frequencies through pure hearts devoted without contract to inner self awareness. Prompting the judgment of what atmosphere has over the heart of the problem. There are problems within hearts? WHAT!! Contrary to the balance of symmetries without depth. Hearts full of many brimming effects. Only determined to sending out there resume for better times. And which one is disclosing from the standard developments rotting the better picture into ruin? Pictures printed with resumes aren’t fruitful. When dynamics in the surface, isn’t comparable to challenge. Challenge lays claims to birthing the right focus. Take charge! Listen carefully to directions! What does that all haft to do with fate being exiled? It doesn’t. Well, not conclusively anyway. Fate is a thought manufactured behind the scenes. It won’t show it’s face directly. Too imposed in everyone else’s business. A directive with no claim in its heart. An atmosphere unsocialized with parts never discovering inner desires. Concluding fate never trusting itself. Fate exiled… Means to test one’s own claims of basic will. The hint is why does fate act? Rather then think the way it’s acting? Could simply be a perspective too old for the majority to classify broadly about. Justifications rise and fall. Birthing the right assorting facts, isn’t a focus. It’s diverging away. Imprints full of empty reassurance. Concluding something different in a basic platform the majority concentrates on. Fate just stands taller than the rest. Filtering all unsuspecting protocols from the inside out. Propagating pressure with insolence. Insolence flowing in-between the rough exteriors of right and wrong. Abiding time for another surface. Triggering the inside out dynamics at large. A picture finally noticing a part of itself without deciphering what complexes itself apart from the others. All this is a much-discovered piece of evidence. But it lacks companionship. No light or dark. A patronage not as diverse as the one heeding influences out with a weapon changing velocities around left and right. Pieces of quietness is an illusion. The surface being what it is. Underneath is where fate discloses further information completely. It’s weapon of probability is just that. A surface area too big for noticing details in itself. Rather picking others to commune a wishing sentence. Hinting at probability being a fake! There isn’t probability in the logical area of flat platforms without big thinking specifics. It’s all hogwash! Fate determines exilement to rush the borderline potential awareness of others. Except that’s probability maneuvering as a mask in the light. Tricking typical surface dwellers in an area too complex for delusional purposes. Even it’s claims are full of doubt. So why does everyone bounce from one flaw to the next? Practicing what it means to put one step after the other. Exercising doubt completely as a waypoint to a better tomorrow. More like a fruitful one-minute moment of standards too gray for focuses to admit. (Tricking won’t get you anywhere, if your full of bland statements.) An assertive quote straight from someone who exiles themselves onto others for practices into the next benign claims. Resumes with a statement that’s only delusional to what tricking isn’t. Showing you exile is the right future for an atmosphere with a heart. Which functions its heart towards the atmosphere. Switches in claims divert the true knowledge around in circles. So, who is fate, exactly? What possibly could they decide amongst themselves for the better future to the surface area of majorities? Try flipping yourself inside out. You might just want to write (Exile) on the permission slip of your own determined mark. Welcome to your identity in exile!
Fate claiming its own rights to act for itself, rather then wanting to break down others interpretations completely. Exiling every piece of information in one’s heart forever! A trick amongst claims.
Simon Oct 2019
Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.
Probability without luck is forever undetermined. Having faith in itself, will redeem the actuality of actions placed without words. Luck? Faith? Lots of hints one hasn't fully realized.
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I question quality of reflection
as each shares the same.
And it seemed like love
until I’ve finally had enough.

I tie up my own two feet
and put my hands straight to shackle,
and while the imprisonment is sweet
there’s too much bitterness to tackle.
And it seemed like love
until the rose tint got scuffed.

She shook the flowers from her hair
and my fingers were cut from the thorns of the tangles.
I thought there were a million clear signs there
I took the time to find each direction, possibilities and angles.
Did I demonize a saint?
or did I give a monster wings?
The image is up for perception, not the paint,
and the same song is different depending on who sings.

Seems I attract words of blades
and metaphorical slaps in the face,
deciphering shadows into different shades
and ranking them last to first place.
And I wanted it to be love,
but it was lower when I thought it above.

I see false inflated importance
or I see nothing at all.
With black and white I took a grey stance,
but my planted feet kept me from standing tall.
An empty home with a closing wall.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I convince myself it’s forms of affection,
so it’s only I to blame.
And it seemed like love,
but I chose the noose instead of my glove.
Nylee Sep 2019
The more we know, the less we say
All the spoken words have its consequences
The more is told in silences

The words omitted but heard clearly
What we listen, the words crafted carefully
They deceive the ears that surrounds

Every other agenda works on
What favours whose manipulation
The smile contains no smile
The efforts put to take another mile
Snooping and buttering on sides
Friends and foe, no one decides
Act so nice, what is inside
no one knows till the very end

Dress so good, please all eyes
Give help when it is noticed
Out of sight then eyes vanished
Deceptive tricks up the sleeve
It matters not whom we believe

All playing game with roll of dice
Keeping friends close, enemies closer.
Next page