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Tis the season to be falling
Tis the season to be gay
Tis the season to be flying
Higher, farther, away ~

Chains loosened she calls to her mother
An earthy musk, grains of sand, mud on her face. A scruffy mutt laying listlessly on the tarmac, ribs rattling with the effort of each breath. She is home.

Muted flames thrashing in its cage, raging in the midst of civilization, a crucifixion of sorts. Tearing at its hair wildly, the masses trickling by, mouth agape in a silent scream. Ashes mixed into pieces of scalp, begging to be found.

Oblivious to a sound like thunder, clapping in one's ears. Strangled scream lost in translation, a language so old none could decipher. Fear wielding urgency, a disguise of desperation, depression.

Refusing to be still.
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2020
Some nights I lie awake in bed yearning to forget
Running into walls plastered with pictures of regret
I've lost all sense of direction
Wandering a mental maze
Roaming in circles
Dark foggy daze
When I let the demons guide
The road turns rough and winded
But how else do I navigate
When my own eyes are blinded?
Just some thoughts
To this day on
I have not thrown away your photos –
they have invaded the closet;

lie in the company of broken navigation
next to the meetings at places that are gone.

Focusing my thoughts:
I believe in wounds healed by time,
not sometime,
but sometime
I forget to take out the trash.
TJ Radcliffe Jan 2020
You'll never know how near the edge we came,
sailing past the world that's known to men.
Your ignorance, good Captain, was to blame
for the risks we took. You do not ken
how fragile was the ship, nor how the crew
was suffering in waters cold, beyond
our charts of isles and straits, the seas we knew
were far behind us, out of sight, long gone.
I guided us through danger, reefs and shoals;
the crew were stalwart, never letting fear
overwhelm their courage, though we rolled
upon our beam-ends, bringing shipwreck near.
You'll never know the gauntlet that we ran
to set your feet so gently on the land.
This might be a metaphor for something.
Cobalt Jan 2019
I really, really don’t want to be beautiful.

I want to make people tremble.

I want to walk into a room and turn people’s heads- not because I’m pretty, but because I walked in with such confidence that people go “****.”

I want the wrong people to be scared by me, and the right people to take me as a challenge, but I want everyone to be intimidated by me.

I want to be the woman no one dares **** with.

I want to be compared to Cleopatra- not in terms of how pretty or symmetrical her face was, but because she seduces men into her bed with her mind and intellect.

I want to be compared to powerful and unstoppable forces of nature, where they aren’t powerful Because of their beauty, but beautiful because of their power.

So this is why I get insulted when you call me pretty before you call me smart.
Nicole S Apr 2018
I think I made a wrong turn somewhere.
I mean, I guess- well, it's embarrassing, but I just kept following my GPS
even when the roads got rough
and my gut felt a little strange
(you know it, right?  That twinge you start to get when you realize you have no idea where you are?)
and before I knew it,
I was in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe the batteries are low,
though you'd think they'd install some kind of warning about that-
I mean, people are depending on these things, you know, to get them places.
They've even got them in phones.

Google Maps, I hear.

Anyway, I really...I really think I'm lost.
Could you give me directions?
K Balachandran Mar 2018
This boat, my woman
never claims she navigates;
thankfully I am hers!
Tribute to my woman on Women's day
Matthew Vargas Sep 2017
They've clipped my wings, darling
I want to soar through the heavens
And land in your arms
Like old times
But I'm earth bound and alone
Miles away from your love
I'll find a way,
No matter the cost.
No matter the length.
Even if it takes me a millennia,
I'll find my way back to you,
my love.
Listening to I love you so by the Walters and in my feels ****
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