Blues of the
sad girl strangle
her,
like a rope
of the devils tale.

Her dreams fly
over her head,
into the ocean
of doubt.

She begs to be
freed of her
long lived nightmare,
but is only answered
to by the
voices of her conscious.

"You'll never win

You'll never be

You'll only be freed

When society sees."

Why don't we read more?
Hope 2d

Tears fall down onto my red lined wrists,
as I cry myself into another nightmare

They see me and I don’t see them,
They’re running in circles inside my head.

We’re on the highway,
Driving past my changes.

They’re driving me insane,
With the speed of time.

They kicked me out.
It was the only way to achieve my dreams.

I’m now running,
Stumbling and falling.

It’s too fast,
The changes that I do.

They wanted me to realize what i’ve done,
And the things I can’t atone.

I’m a book,
A book you can never read.

I gets longer, shorter.
Everything changes with a single word.

They gave me wings,
And wanted me to carry them.

I carried them over the sea of my past selves.
And wanted me to stop.

They destroyed my wings,
Making us all fall down.

I’m now lost in the sea of regret,
Making me cry tears to fill the sea and drown it all.


My sadness swallowed them all,
Merging them into my worst nightmare.

I’m now running again,
Getting chased by my demons.

I wish I could fly away from it all,
Never stop, never look back.

But everything I want will never happen,
The whole world is against me.

I have too many sins to ever be able to pray.
But I still pray for my life to continue.

And then it happened,
Wings.

I finally got my wings,
I jumped off the cliff I've been chased up to.

And I flew and flew,
Until I realized I was falling.

I only asked for wings,
Not how to fly.

I landed straight on my head,
I died, together with everything I’ve been running from.

I can never escape my nightmare,
Not even a wish can help me.

the worms crawl into our brains
as we passively accept our reality
the worms crawl into our brains
as we lead our lives so mundanely
the dream for which we reach
proves that we're asleep
and as it molds itself into a nightmare
we realize, alas, too late
of the horrors we create

My first poem on HP.
Belle 7d

How does the world expect you not to kill yourself?
I do not understand why we are put on this earth.
We are born and we already have expectations put into us, then we are put into school by the age of four.
Forced to stand in line like some militia.
We get 30 minutes of free time then are summoned by a whistle and teachers go down checking to make sure we are all aligned.
Tell me how that sounds moral!
We are in school for another 14 years after that, and it just gets harder.
Soon, teachers start choosing favorites and start telling you that you're not good enough, smart enough, or quick enough. You try to do a sport you love only to be told "somebody else was better."
Your friends start to leave you to go join a different group of friends and all you get is a subtle wave and half smile as you walk down the hallway.
You graduate high school and move onto college.
Another four years of school.
Maybe nursing, maybe education, maybe psychology.
Whatever it is it's preparing you for a job that you have to have the rest of your life.
You don't get to have fun everyday.
You have to work, and though they say "the right job is fun." The right job is stressful. The right job is hard. The right job is still a daily struggle. The right job is still a constant battle!
Why were we put on this earth only to continue working, and making our life into one big unhappy nightmare?
Yet, when someone say they want to kill themselves, everyone replies, "oh but the world is so wonderful."

Tell me
   When
       Did the lines
          Between
             My nightmares
                 And
                    This reality
                          Blur
                               And
                                   Break

Eyal Lavi Aug 13

"“To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come," as Shakespeare wrote and Shakespeare dreamt and Shakespeare... became he who ruled the world of words.

What dreams may come may come in bits
What dreams may come may feel as real as walking down a frozen field
What dreams may come may come so quick one can't escape one simply feels
The horror of a nightmare real as being trapped with none to hear
The yelling moaning wretched calls one calls for help yet no one hears

What dreams may come may come in peace
What dreams may come may come as fields of roaming grains kissed by a breeze
What dreams may come when one is whole and eyes the field as endless wonder planted by a higher power
What dreams may come may come in jerks of memories lost from years gone by now brought to life as one just sleeps
What dreams may come may come as real as real as life and love and death
What dreams may come...
You know they may...

Ron Gavalik Aug 12

An elaborate nightmare about fascists
running amok on nameless American streets
dominated a long sleep
after an endless week of servitude at the job.

In the nightmare, socialists in a nameless American town
battled torch-bearing white men without souls
in bland polo shirts and khakis.
A pervasive aroma of wood-fired smoke,
beer, and diesel fumes cut us off from the natural world
as the Neo-Nazis and their allies surrounded us.

In the throes of the crippling effects of dread and fear
the few of us, brothers and sisters of love and compassion,
the very young and the very old,
pushed forward to fight as warrior poets,
in remembrance of our grandparents,
for our children,
and for ourselves.

In the dream's periphery, blank faces of cowards
I've known for life looked on from sidewalks.
They refused to fight,
and instead they cracked sarcastic jokes
about both sides.

I had this nightmare on Friday night, August 11 into Saturday morning, August 21, 2017.

This is a Neo-Nazi premonition dream that I jotted down as free verse prior to Charlottesville. What I find most disturbing about the piece is how I ended it with Trump's "both sides," days before he spoke the words.

I have no trouble wrapping my mind around evil and the metaphysical elements that combat that evil. Still, I find my own nightmare on this issue to be of greater value than a simple warning.

There's a reason I had this nightmare.
wraiths Aug 11

the Night Mare gallops,
hooves pounding
like sounding an alarm.
black on black
as she moves through the dark
like a fish following the river current.
muscles rippling under her sleek coat,
she cuts through the air.

but she needs a rider.
you climb into the stirrups,
give it a try.
she shakes you around
and you tumble off.
she kicks up a wave of shadows
and leaves you in its dust.

only Death can ride
the beast of bad dreams.

wraiths Aug 11

i'm in love with a man who doesn't exist
pulls me in, pulls me in for our very first kiss
light dances behind his soft eyes
the devil in a handsome disguise

curly brown locks bounce upon his head
as he sways around me and whispers in red
the beginnings of a beard are upon his round face
and he places firm hands on either side of my waist
his grip like fire and a voice evoking dread
charms his way straight into my bed

i tuck my head in the crook of his neck
and i can tell he's not done with me yet
his mouth moves to my neck and i feel his grin
as he works his way across my skin
his lips tremble and my body goes weak
his touch and mine trapping in unbearable heat

i'm in love with a man who doesn't exist
pulls me in, pulls me in for our final kiss
desire glints behind his dark eyes
oh, the devil in a handsome disguise

a dream
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