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Trip-A 1h
Baleful Mr. Meow
Plotting my ****** someday
On my lap, he sits
humourous poem about a murderous cat
Anna Mink Feb 21
Beyond an unassuming neighborhood is a cornfield.
Underground was a playhouse.
Its owner, with hormonal eyes, took advantage of another innocent girl.
After ten flinches, fingernails became mementos.
The owner offered this girl a severance package with no promise of survival.
She rejected.
This owner failed reconsidering to not cut what fragile umbilical connection she had to life with a switchblade.
She died in the end, in what’s now a hole in fertile ground.

~ A.M, F.H.
Edited & Published 21st of February 2021.
Written 21st of January 2021.
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The light refracting across the silent room
Everything is closed off; the blinds; the doors; the boxes
The glass eyes of the house muffling the sounds of the outside world

The inhabitant grown a slave to watching
The gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Stretching lines, darkening eyes, smiles turned hollow
She'll trace the filtered light with frozen desperate fingers

Her sounds are empty and echo like a dripping water from a faucet
The tiled floor is as cold as the snow that falls. Unseen
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The wind seems to be whispering words she no longer yearns for

The blood is dancing with the cold
Warming the static embrace of her head and fingers
The inhabitant closes the blinds again, hiding the quiet scene
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Most people believe this is about suicide so I'm going to clear this up. The inhabitant and the girl are two different people. The poem focuses on a scene, but the whole purpose is to invoke the feelings that come with paranoia. It's about a man who killed a girl, but also talking about the guilt and fear of hiding a bad thing we've done. I hope it somehow showed what I was trying to convey.
nevaeh Feb 17
i'd **** myself

not suicide, no, even that isn't enough
for all that i've done.

no, i'd rip myself
limb from limb
tear the muscles
that bind my long slender legs
let metal and body meet
shatter the bones that cross
inside my scarred arms
i'd tear out my ugly heart
douse it in kerosene
watch it burn and melt
bubble and turn black
i'd take the stomach
sunken deep inside
cut it lovingly apart
and feed it to the devil
i'd take razor to skin
dig out my empty eyes
shave off my pretty lips
mutilate my lovely face
til the only thing left
is pink and white
burns and scars
like the ones inside
you can all hate me, because in the end, i hate myself more.
My heart’s been pulled out of my chest. And I’m the one who pulled it. All of my decisions have led to this point and now I have to deal with the consequences. I am a murderer. I am my own judge and jury and I am going away for a LONG time...
A 9 mm handgun
In the hands of Mr. Policeman

Click click BANG BANG

Now the ground has a metallic tang
You greedy little  men in blue
Its always you who don't hold true

Click click BANG BANG
The innocent blood in your hands hang

How did it feel Mr. Policeman?
rose Feb 1
it had been only a nightmare, i told myself. but when i awoke he was still there. in the corner of my room.  he was not staring at me but the window, everything was pitch black. i looked out the glass and saw more. “they will hurt you” he said. “i will protect you.” i looked away from the window to him. “but for how long will you last?” i asked, “and how long will they be there?” he looked at me. his ****** eyes into mine, “eternity.” i wept silently as the banging on my door started. “honey, it’s mom! im home.” my mom called, as i got up to open the door, a force stopped me. i looked at him. “it’s them. not her.” he said. “don’t come near me.” i replied to the banging. “let me in, he’s mind tricked you, we’re all trying to save you!” she yelled back. his eyes weren’t ****** anymore and suddenly he was starting to look less humanized. “mom come get me!” i cried. until i opened the door and everyone was gone. i woke up. on the floor of the bathroom. leaving there, i saw my families dead bodies. blood everywhere. i saw him. “their blood is on your hands.” i looked down holding an axe.
Dee Jan 31
Such a sad tale to tell,
Is that of our darling heroine.

Was it the butler with the hatchet?
Or perhaps...
Was it the gardener with the knife?
No, no...
The maid with the rope?
The possibility...
Of the dog running her through?

Alas...dear readers,
The heroine lay prone at the bottom,
Of the winding staircase,
With just a key,
Cradled in her palm,
Freely given,
But not accepted.
John Doe Jan 31
M.O
A frown betrays my heart
A kiss betrays what I knew
I betrayed myself
Thinking I wouldn’t fall for you..
Fallen deep, in dreaming your breath..
Seeing it so far
Far, from anything Ive known, yet..
I still find myself a prisoner of war
And all is fair when love is included..
I took a shot and ended up wounded..

..What is about humans that makes us so stupid..
Deny yourself of the truth when it vibrates your bones to a grind..
What is it about love that makes up my mind about half of the time I bring your name to existence.. What is it about you that made me forget this part of me, I sealed away

What is it about this part of me that stabs blood trickles of emotion like an alleyway perfect for a mugging or even ******..
Love is a scary thing..

Just me, spilling my mind..
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