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Amanda 4d
I used to believe loss was part of life
That isn't quite correct

Losing IS life

The losses what make us who we are and mold us

The wins just the incentive to keep us in the game

So I am learning to embrace the suffering and let it stretch my soft parts into something stronger
Instead of wishing bad weather away
Lalalala
I am a Vitruvian Man
marked out like an anatomy lesson
in black and green dye,
something to align against the mean,
a mold made of sheets and plastic
to aim the mechanical eye
to revolve its rays around.

I can’t move because the machine
requires mathematical silence
to perform its cure, so the nurse
must tug me into place.

I get lost in the hum of the circle,
lonely bagpipes playing a dirge,
maybe Amazing Grace,
maybe Scotland the Brave,
maybe the last graceful notes
of my own dying world,
maybe it’s just noise.

Somewhere there
is a small echo of God
that almost gets lost in the creation
of algorithm and code,
smothered in my general deafness,
the unbelief that He would touch me
at my weakest point
like a biblical character.

The scan stops.
The mold is done.
The nurse lifts me gently up
making sure my feet touch the floor
before letting go.
She smiles and reminds me
that the end is just 25 treatments away.
Madison Greene Jul 2019
I will not exhaust myself for the sake of making ends meet and let my dream wilt away
I refuse to settle, to find myself engrossed in a mundane life
in a town where the people are all pretending to not be miserable
I have spent too many minutes trying to fit the mold of what I thought I had to be
I want to believe I can come back to myself
like an old friend at a corner booth, caught in city winds
a foreign place but a feeling all too familiar
I'll meet her in a coffee shop, writing with ink stained fingers
this is the me I've always liked the most
Mark Wanless Jun 2019
the mold on the bones
of a wolf ****
600 years ago
a good try in my opinion
MisfitOfSociety May 2019
Breathed in the breath of the saviour,
To richen the soul of the poor.
I puffed out a portal to the cloud kingdom.
Holding onto the scales of a dragon.
The earth beneath my feet begun to shrink,
And the sky above my head started to sink.
I caught a glimpse of what was behind the cloud,
And was dropped from a million feet high down to the ground.

I met an angel with a kick,
Wanted by the government.
Eyes as wide as rabbit holes,
As bright as a solar moon.
Black stars in between white spaces,
Generating a reluctant mold.
There’s golden flakes in its hair,
Its string chokes my throat.
I thought it was my angel,
Turns out it was fool’s gold.

When the fog sets,
And everything fades away;
I turn off my car headlights,
And stear into the grey.
I like to hide in the clouds,
They make me so happy;
But when I come back down,
They make me so sad.

Digging in my grave to find heaven,
Inhaling the smoke of another dragon.

I think I might have found my God.
I’m melting in his eternal sunshine.
Smoked the crumbled image of his face,
It turned my tears into wine.
The earth's my grave,
The sky's my cradle.
Unearthing my new low,
To find the highest place one can go.
newpoetica Mar 2019
what i long for are those lips,
to take long, slow, and passionate sips.
to caress your rough, worn face.
as you play around with lace,
both our legs intertwine under the covers,
as you and i mold into one another as lovers
Mackenzie Jan 2019
I know who I am
My moral's
Things that cannot shake me
But I'm drowning in my sorrow's
All of the things that continue to break me
I have let the bad things shape me
Mold me into a form I do not recognize
I know who I am
She is very hard to find
Under the debris and
The dark night's I can still see
My moral's
the things that cannot shake me
But I let the bad things break me
I dig and I dig through the mess
I’m depressed
My moral's may be something
I silently put to rest
Shea Jan 2019
I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path.
Feed on the dying,
**** off the living.
I'm not a good person,
It's not that hard to see.

I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path,
And when they find me out,
Like an apple picked too late,
I'm afraid they'll look down,
And throw me in the trash.
exist Oct 2018
being different
may mean you’re not normal
at least to society
but it also means
you’re brave enough
to break the mold
and to me that’s more rewarding
than fitting in
break the mold 2k18
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