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Samantha Grace Dec 2019
The illusionist drawls,
"Choose wisely", fanning his cards,
and she, eyeing Five of Cups,
POPS her bubblegum, chooses
"You", deciding that the imp
who claims he's not an archetype
is merely the reversed Hermit.
elisabeth Jul 2019
you really make me wonder
ALL of the time
how much you really love me
if it's all just an act
for a gain that I have not yet been able to place
but sometimes
i can imagine
usually though I freeze
a strange thing happens
possibly a defense mechanism
to protect me from a wonderful man
who may break me the way i've been broken before
Acina Joy Jun 2019
Shards scatter the kitchen floor;
Joel Adams plays through the radio.
Hearts chained down, wrists throbbing.
Phantoms appear, knocking the lungs empty.
He?--She?--Them; they appear on the table,
where guests are supposed to sit. The counter,
the couch, the bedroom (where guests are not supposed to be).

(But you reminisce, they're not guests anymore.)

The shelves are cold--freezing even, like a snow storm
has passed by. Not only that, but the pillows, notebooks,
that spot on the floor, the jacket, their mug.
Every single thing they've touched, it freezes every time,
and it stays.

Yearning for warmth no longer there.
Fire no longer burns, heat but a necessity.
But there is eternal warmth in the body;
the blood. The kitchen is scattered with shards of
mug, and where warmth is found in blood, fingers
squeeze onto pieces of glass.

Once again, it is warm, it is relief.

You feel warm again.
But where blood and body meet, there is no end nor beginning.
Where there was, there is.

(It's always been like this.)
UCSP class dried me.
austin Jun 2018
Who is the angel
Who found you living lifeless
The angel that never seems to break
The angel that stands beside you

Who is the angel
Who gives you life
and always wipes your tears?
The angel that sews your broken heart
The angel that fights your fears

The strongest bridges appear unbreakable
But they withstand the greatest stress
and bulletproof glass will take the shots
But only just so many,
and you might not see it coming
but it will break when it is bombed

The angel will always take your chains
And rest them on their shoulders
They'll smile at you when you're okay
And tell you not to worry

But don't forget, the angel is human too
Despite their amazing strength,
and even though they never cry
Their eyes mask the blood of warzones

The angel will always take your chains
Even when they cannot hold them
And the angel will do so until they break,
so that you can always smile

So go find the angel that never cries
Hug them, and say I love you
And you could be the angel
when the bulletproof is bombed
Lana May 2018
Steer clear of malice;
To speak of arrows tipped in actuality and respond justly toward malignity.
Lest I fall under the gaze of malice becoming putrid within.

Heavenly Father above.
You paved the way to a damaged youth yet,
Almost commonplace to allow surrogate protectors,
Crawl inside my flesh only to be spat back out once again.

I realise I am not but the woman I thought myself to be;
Only an interchangeable piece in the mechanism.

A piece in the mechanism,
Intertwined between countless souls on the way of my path.

By Lana
julianna Feb 2018
I am living in a capsule
I am shielded from outside forces,
hurting
pain
and
sallow emotions

these are orange

I am shielded by this boundary
that my mind constructed
A prisoner to my own ways
forever defending me
from your
rude
and stabbing
jagged jars

and your

sharp
and jarring
warnings

these are red

it may sound nice
that I am immune

this is blue

But the privilege of the good emotions
all the
warm
and happy
delicious laughs

which are yellow

I no longer have

because I am a prisoner
of cause and effect-
you cause and I deflect

Now I am an outsider on the inside
forever watching all the colors
as they
bounce off my capsule wall.
paige v Feb 2018
how much trauma can fit
inside of you between the gaps
before your nerves begin to fail
and your ventricles collapse;

a leash pulling your thoughts
behind a barbed wire fence
a muzzle to control your words
as a last line of defense;

a defective, broken down body
stemmed from a tortured mind
equals an futile unfinished sculpture
with a hollowed out inside
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