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Broken Pieces Apr 14
Is that what I am
A simple mistake
Taking up space

Is that what you see
But little old me

Can I be something
Or am I stuck
Forced to be nothing
Zack Ripley Mar 17
it always seems that life is happy to remind you
that it doesn't owe you anything.
it doesn't owe you happiness.
or friends.
it doesn't even owe you an explanation
of what happens at the end of your story.
but guess what?
you don't owe life anything either.
you don't owe anything to anyone except yourself.
it's your time. your happiness. your choice.
because it is your story.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 30
~for Robert C Howard, inspired by his “From Many, One”

I know nothing of poetry…

or ballet or symphonic works; a ******,
a passerby, a glimpser of other’s artistry,
neither can I add, nor delete, just observe their
intersection, a triplication, and yet, a snowy
Saturday Sabbath is colored now by their story

a  story of many, a symphony playing a concert
of harmony, the notes are grunts and shoutouts,
the high notes of squealing tires screeches, the bass
of growling heaving hearts, engines-beating revving,
music growing louder, to a crescendo of resounding success

sudden silence is the fiercest applause, a reverbing
mark, echoing in a forested heartland, quietly absorbed
into the scarred bark of the witnessing trees, adding a minute moment to their long playing recordings, approving  an
endeavor of many unasked, self-tasked to help, many into one…

a merging of a singular memory
Palpebra Jan 8
you loved me in your thoughts
and thought that you loved me
for all i was a mere thought
that could never become your reality
so you bled on these pages
tore through your cages
and wrote and wrote and wrote
rowing your sinking love boat
merrily down the stream
living a ****** nightmare
you oh so lovingly called a dream
and now you think you want me back
but all you want is the idea you've had
of a girl with broken wings
of an angel who sings
but i ain't no angel baby
i am the devil you don't want to see
who'll never ever fall for you
i am a lie that'll never be true
so ******* and your make ego
for you'll never be my story's hero
i am the main lead of my tale
a peak that you'll never be able to scale
to all the guys who thought they loved me
no, you never did
you simply liked the idea
you created in your stupid little head
of a soft girl who needed you to fix her
but that was never the case
i never led anyone of on
you did it to yourself
thinking you could tame the fire that burnt me alive
thinking you could give me a reason to survive
so fuvm for loving someone who never existed and trying to become better men
Zack Ripley Dec 2021
Why am I still standing here
When there is nothing to stand for?
Because I hope someday there will be.
Clay Face Dec 2021
It depletes me.
Turn, turn around.
And complete me.

I, lost all control.
And this sense of lament is visceral.
I bleed, from the outside.
Numb death, turning, becoming inside.

Just need one thing.
A child’s toy, nostalgic and stuffed.
A somnambulant hymn.
To remove me.
Disassociate, please.

Your hand is soft.
Placed places that comfort.
I miss your scent, that congeals.
I wish I didn’t have to feel nothing.
Emptiness is so guttural and potent.

I can’t help but see.
Everything slip by.
Zack Ripley Nov 2021
I didn't say "I love you."
I didn't say I cared.
I didn't say much of anything because, honestly, I was scared.
Scared I'd say the wrong thing.
So, I thought it'd be better
if I said nothing at all.
BuIt now, I'll say everything.
Because you deserved to hear it all.
Valya Oct 2021
You whispered them into my ears
Sweet nothings that I was too blindsided to notice
I giggled so hard not knowing what was to come ahead
I looked up at you with round hazel eyes waiting for the “I love you”
It came and again, I heard the sweet nothing
As you broke up with me you said “I still love you”
I believed it
I wanted it
I kept it
But again it was only a sweet nothing
I treasured us with my whole heart
But the relationship to you was only a sweet nothing
Just an old poem that I thing encapsulates a lot of relationships (including mine) well :3
WickedHope Oct 2021
Open spaces
Make me
The void
You opened up is
Smothering me
There is too much
And it is
Squeezing me tightly
Choking me
With emptiness
Stuffing it
Down my throat
I'm filled with it
The Empty.
I can't.
Please stop asking me.
I can't do this anymore.
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