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Ellie Grace Feb 24
I didn’t mean to be so harsh
to turn my own tongue into a silver blade,
each word spewing from my mouth coated in blood,
but now I am choking on the metallic taste

I didn’t mean to be so cruel,
to break my bones over and over again
reopening old wounds with blunt scissors
attempting to crawl out of my own skin.

But now I resemble a wild animal,
clawing at the very fibres of my being
destroying everything in my path

yet still believing I can sew myself back together
no matter the damage I cause...
Amanda Feb 5
I knew our decisions were misguided

And I chose to make them despite that knowledge

I wanted you and I to act in harmony

Needed to know every heartbeat pulsating from our two chests was in perfect synchronization
And I was right
Tony Tweedy Jun 2019
How many souls have been lost because they used their heart as a compass?
Astral Jan 2019
One day you make me laugh and smile,
You make my face flush,
And my heart rush.

Some days I just don't feel it,
And there isn't a spark there too,
Sometimes I just can't talk to you.

I wish my heart could make a choice,
That it knew what to say,
Or what to do at the end of the day.

And I just feel lost,
Like my feelings are unfinished,
Like I'm missing something,

But I don't think that something is you...
I guess I'll have to wait and find out.
H E L E N A Dec 2018
I long

To linger no more
      in the hallways of amnesia;
      A clearing of the iridescent haze
      Into a world beyond ー

To sing here no more
      the sound of soulless sorrows;
      Echo into the distant
      Scapes and seas ー

To see no more
      the sights untold;
      Watch men erode,
      Pale petals unfold ー

And fall back on an unbroken dream.
Rogue Aug 2018
I have immured my heart in a bottle and entrust its fate on to the uncharted oceans, in hopes of finding its way unto you.

In a world that I could never fathom, an outburst of wind of fate seemingly uttered with beguiling promise of love blows at the very moment we least expect. Oftentimes, it is marked by a vehement gush with the force of a cyclone. Sometimes, they could caress one's bare face in tranquility, less likely to be heeded upon.

But the winds cannot be withheld. And those winds steered my bottled heart safely passed through the formidable hurricane, atop the perilous riptides, as it takes an unpredictable yet regulated route—the most delicate course on its extensive adventure—the course towards you. Disregarding your walls, they come barging in your chambers. Beggeting forth, as they often do, an intoxicating idea of the future accompanied by the promise of ardor. And the winds hushed upon reaching you as it sings the song proclaiming glory of a fulfilled quest.

As your face gets cascaded by the reds and oranges of the fading sun, you picked up the bottle, twisted its cork, and allowed my heart to taste the bliss of freedom after being kept out of touch, unable to bathe in the relish for a long time.

You admired its beauty as it is situated on the palm of your hands, as if entrusting the kismet on your ruling.

But you decided it was too precious for you; too fragile to hold on to. It doesn't worth the risk.

Thereupon, you dispose it back into the bottle, whispering mindless vindication and apologies in hopes of obliterating the guilt, as you threw it as far away from you as you could; back into the great unknown.

It was then that the strong winds of fate never presented itself, as if abandoning my bottled heart. It was left floating in the ocean back and forth without reaching a definite destination.

Forsaken. Misguided. Lost.

Never bound to reach the arms it belongs to.
Maaz Jul 2018
An arduous journey is to be trekked,
Against the face of oncoming neglect,
A journey that may be a thousand miles,
Or only one step.

An oracle is asked to guide,
To provide knowledge and she abides,
But even her powers seem meek,
Against the mountain of sorrow's peak.

The climb of healing has begun,
The ascent which can be done by one,
But even he who ascends,
Is not promised to truly mend.
dont follow your sorrow
Poetic T May 2018
The king is dead he never rose
from his resting place, chose
instead to be the embodiment
of a false fable writing the copyist.

Within a cave of delusions that kept
the image of false motives hidden.
An off spring of a method not unkempt.
this version the kept reasoning now forbidden.

Delusions of two reflections not seeing that
one is not a king but a falsehood sat on divided chat.
Neither were a failing, but reflections of a belief
that were conflicting upon a tree with a twinned leaf.

But when one must fall, both will simultaneously
greet the earth with a momentary spontaneously.
Always will one be ahead of the other claiming divine
leading, and others follow this moment of design.

But every king has a past that is woven in misbelief,
for all false kings can bring is an unethical belief
that they are the true monarch of a world run by many
where brothers & sisters there just spinning a single  penny
Brian Hoffman Mar 2018
And maybe just maybe at that fleeting moment my heart started to grow

How did I never notice at that moment your words truly reached the bottom of my untamed soul

And now everything flows so smoothly

Looking into the sky’s I could hear birds sing and the winds blowing breeze brushing along against the trees

We watch as the light of the day turns into a beautiful starry night

Constellations scattering along you and I

Deeply lost in your eyes

Laid out on the grass we watch time pass

We tell each other our deepest dreams unwinding us from the seams of the blanket we lay upon

But I believe that time is an overrated thing

Yet I narrate the time that you spend with me  

And then it all ends as time tinkers away

We both go our own separate ways

We grow apart like night into day

Like sunset into sunrise with such dismay

Things were so clear with you, but now it’s gone

I’m sorry even when we tell each other our dreams I can’t keep my eyelids shut

You pick me up, but I let you down

And I’ve caught you running through my head again

Trespassing in my mind

You steal all my thoughts away

You do it all the time now
Poetic T Dec 2017
Within a casket of echoes
does the mirage of
      truth become stained
into a conciseness of delusions.
                 But still they are slaves..

Altercations of past inclinations
that merit, reflection of
                          misguided minds.
But with no morals they digress,
      standing on illusions of nothingness.

Where another doesn't tread,
                      fed to others delusions
of negativities prompting lies upon
lie with no merit only golden goblets
drinking upon the weakness of others.
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