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crowther Mar 28
I wonder how they see you
how they describe the great you
would they see things like I do?
would they say what I would I say?

I say you're a flower
gently dancing in the fields of beauty
I say you're a violin
you fiddle away the unwanted mellow in my life

would they see that? I hope so
In my heart you're more than what you are
I see you, clear and bright
with beauty ignite
crowther Apr 3
thoughts boggled in
as your heart thumps within
the silent waves that only you can hear
the walls have glistened as the voices arrived
it was out of nowhere
you'll feel the motion; petrified
she who suffers has profound chaos
Johnson Mar 16
To be  guilty
Is to be ill received
To struggle within
Is that of its own effort in futility

For just as a new day dawns
Illuminates the coming of day
So is the begging of the coming dissolution
So is the inevitable distaste

Like the man at the edge of street
Sitting in the glow of artificial light
However hollowed a reality received
The weight pressed within one’s mind

It was in this worldly injustice
Founded upon the breaking of ones will
Yet in this subjective sense it seemingly shatters
While the rest remains ever still
jus Jan 27
if love was a sin,
would you be
would you repent
on your
and have no face
to turn
to God
when the time

would you
stay a sinner
to hold on
to one person,
or object, or
a happening, to say the least,
whatever your affections
desire for?

or do you
become a saint,
bend your
into a halo,
and throw
your sharp horns
like a dagger
in one's chest?

if love was a sin,
the devil
would be ashamed
for all the faults I bear.
i'd be in my own
and my promises
in my own
Created in a storm,
The red most vivid,
The colour of love
Representing the deepest of pain,
The rapids in your mind,
None as beautiful as those of the ocean,
Getting deeper and deeper
Beyond the basic grit of the past,
Pulling times of discontent from every fabric of the memory,
Until you snap! like a simple branch
Silver the only glimmer in the dark
Colliding with the paleness of your skin,
Stained now by not only blothes of that colour of love but also those of hurt, fear and never ending pain.
blacklocket7 Jan 20
The thing is,

my nightmares aren't about huge spiders,

or falling off the top of really tall buildings.

They aren't about the monsters in the closet,

or the monsters in my head.

They aren't about ghosts,

or creepy clowns.

My nightmares are about you.
The way you killed me with your eyes.
I've never been the same.

The way you stabbed me in the back when I wasn't looking.
Red eyes,
love made me blind.
The way your words trapped, strangled, and suffocated me.

Sweet dreams.
My first poem.
Laura Dec 2018
I’m spinning around. Faster and faster everything’s passing by. Don’t know where I’m going, don’t know where I’m from. Not seeing anything but a sea of colours.
I’m spinning around and I start to feel giddy.
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