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Chad Young Sep 24
I used to stay up all night in deep study,
but now my studying is slimmer because I've found more answers.

After an hour or two or rest there is a fresh
ground to plant myself in.

After two or three hours of gardening
in the fertile field, the crop is planted, and
the morning's work is done.

I now need to rest again for new fertile ground,
but also for the night
plants to sprout to cover my tracks.
Why do I sleep all day?
It doesn't feel what's real or unreal
once you lose the control of your breath,
It seems heavier everything inside
and no one to understand what it feels like,  
It's the real mess!
Just someone immersing you with its ******.
and you can't shout or speak out,
all you do is stare but no one look out
when you are trying to breathe,
but inside you are dead.
I wrote this at 3:09 AM. I love writing at night and that's when I feel more me and less the other me which I'm not. I feel peace within me. I had rough days where dark used to feel scary, now I'm loving night.
Sadie Grace Apr 14
1am thoughts drive me outside to the stars
the wet grass and night breeze remind me
it's not a bad world
it's not a bad life
it's just a bad night to stargaze
clouds litter the sky,
but somehow stars still peek through
clouds roll on
and somehow they unsteady me too
I could lay here for hours
in the uneasy silence of the night
Mike A Eyslee Feb 20
Every morning a beaming carmine penetrates my brain
unbeknownst to their perilous call
a smiling bird and a white heal all.

Violates me at my eyes
from green chasing lies
from wicked placed disguise.

Pencils of light at three trips
Here's the stalker of stalkers that haunt my pre dream routine.

Every evening a lustrous crimson punctures my lungs
unbeknownst to their unsafe swath
a quiet bird and a paper moth.

Vexes me at my eyes
from yellow following lies
from haughty placed disguise.

Pencils of light at three trips
Here's the lurker of lurkers that submerge my pre dream routine.

Every night a hazy velvet pierces my heart
unbeknownst to their loving provider
a dead bird and a snow drop spider.

Visits me at my eyes
from red moving lies
from stoic placed disguise.

Pencils of light at three trips
the finest sliver of silence you can imagine.
inspired by "All in green went my love riding" by e e cummings for the structure and "Design" by Robert Frost as evident by the allusions.
kaitlyn spence Oct 2019
vibrancy emits amongst the echoes of the night
as slumber casts itself on most these hours, absent light
while some lack productivity, with efforts turned to ruin
my product of activities proves grand by starry lumen
ideas are born, regrets are mourned, and midnight snacks consumed
to moonlit ante meridiem: my fondness, ever true.
Ritz Writes Mar 2019
There was an agony in my voice
Unheard rant and tirade against
The world that couldn't appreciate your sole identity.
Life as we know it!
Trembling in fear, braving the storm not to break down in tears.
When billows of sadness roll
Embracing the state of solitude, no one to call.
Behind the dark circle, hidden with a concealer
Bottled up paranoia and scars
Drowning in a sea of misery.
What could've been done to alleviate this malady
I wish I could crumble into pieces
As ashes of smoke, disappearing into a thin air.
Did I chose this melancholic trail
Unable to succumb myself to death.
A living dead
Leave me alone
I can't handle anymore pain.
allison Mar 2019
cant sleep because
im thinking I'll love you forever
but you can't say the same
because you loved me once
but never again.
just best friends
always & forever
and i guess that's okay.
good night
The nights are mine
Nothing can change that
Peace, quiet and serenity
I’m alive, I can breathe
I can see clearly because
the darkness comes and the light fades.

The nights are mine,
And I never feel better
While you sleep, I live to the fullest
I smile, I laugh, I create, I learn
After a long day, I can finally relax.
Not be judged. Just be. Be me.

The nights are mine
Nobody owns me,
I’m by myself,
Running my own show,
Just letting my creativity flow,
And my intellect grow.
Ritz Writes Dec 2018
Fought with my own demons
Entangled thoughts caught with tumultuous wave of emotion;
Fragile I was
Clothed in stain.
Found a solace in your presence
You're the home I run to while I was dealing with pain.
To The One That Got Away.
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i've been turned inside out
by this tender emotion i picked up from the ground
it was wet and was wounded  
by senseless gunfire
i've been bursting at the seams on my marinated bed
i've been swarmed by the hush of the quiet storm
and by the warmth of a soft hand, lost in daylight

my bed
soaked by the pain of an early release  
as hefty stallion hearts spew out their endless past lives    
that couldn't hold for a moment more
for the melody of a thousand moons
crept up on them all on that sunken midnight
that was too close to the places that stay awake

i'm being spun into wool
for blankets that will eventually hold memories
that i will surely turn into
no-man's land
this poem is about being betrayed by the day and by the people that come with that sun rise. I have a lot of moments late at night where i am in a place of utter peace and vulnerability, a place where all of my hearts can speak freely and don't have to be on guard, but when day comes, all the armour has to go back on, just so my body doesn't just crumble to the ground, nor my brain. I've been turned inside out by the beautiful things i find at night and by the experiences and the emotions that come with the night time. It is all about the beauty of the night before the day comes, and how it is rendered useless, until it comes back again.
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