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She was truly awake
Only when she bled
Her inner demons rattled
Aroused by the deep red tears

Birds caw with hatred as the blood drips from her skin
Circling around as she drops to her knees

Long, sticky tongues brush her cheeks
Thousands of tiny legs
Skittering upwards
Through the fog of her mind

A bird caws from afar
Teasing her
With sounds of a promise
Yet to be broken

Creatures come
Greedily suckling from the corners of her eyes
Crawling across the cracked walls
Of her mind
Clawing to destroy her anguished thoughts

She hears wings flapping
Swooping down
Birds
Speaking to her with cries of mercy
Knowing in death
She would nourish those
She had once destroyed

Pecking, scratching
Ravishing her broken body
Tearing her insides apart

If you looked down
Your eyes might capture  
A speck of new joy
Her soul no longer filled with hate
Devastation torn away

Lonely bones
Free from concern
Lying in wait
For a mouth full of jagged teeth
Perhaps a wolf
To devour her
Finish her off
Whenever he gets the urge

She lies lifeless
Peaceful
Soul cleansed
She is prepared to nourish another
Like never before
IdleHvnds Feb 20
What do we learn from the teachings of flowers —
That one does not grow in poisoned soil.
In unfavourable conditions, we wilt.
But we can heal from the root,
When cared for and place in nourishing spaces.
We grow, sprouting new life.
The might stem, building stronger cells,
Your bloom becomes brighter,
Opening up to the welcoming sun.
We learn a lot from the flowers
One just need be observant of its teachings.
Zywa Jan 15
Nobody is as

good as the landlord, always --


he's pouring out love.
"Ghazal 72" ("Ode 72", 14th century, Hafez)

Collection "Love Mind and Death"
Demonatachick Feb 2024
Behind doors I cannot open with keys that never was, i feed letters through slots hoping they would reach him.

I dreamt that he would consume them and one day emerge, whole.

But the chrysalis never broke, and what couldve been never was.
Hi guys hope everyone is well, my favourite time of the year approaches, pancake day!!
SUDHANSHU KUMAR Aug 2021
The sparkling river,
Nourished millions of lives, Now
striving for own life...
Here striving refers to struggling...

This poem is dedicated to current condition of rivers and water bodies because of pollutions and global warming...🌊
Daisy Hemlock Aug 2020
i just ate dinner
now i'm a new person
can we start over?
nice to meet you.
Scott Hunter May 2020
The air that drifts in through my window
Has come as the wind from afar for me to breathe;
Past mountain tops and river valleys;
From the mouth of my beloved.
It has rustled the leaves of trees along the way
And has skimmed the crests of waves in vast oceans.
We breathe the world with every breath.
© 2004
the wind didn’t blow the same,
the trees wouldn’t sway during fall
and the longer the day
the more i’d wait in
until it was dark enough for me to
come out and bloom for you,
in the essence of moonlight.

at least i used to bloom,

for you, i mean.

although every gray shade and
every rough water drop told me
not to,
i bloomed for you.

but you never nourished me,
you left me out to die once the
sun came back up and let the city’s
busy feet trample my bright and vivid
colors.

i must admit, my colors came from you,
but now i’ve planted my roots somewhere else.

where wind gracefully caresses with kindness,
somewhere the trees dance to the beat of the rain
and where the longer the day
the more time i have to bloom.

even while in the dark, i’m seen now,
for my colors. that’s all i ever really wanted.

from you, i mean.

-melancholicreator
please like and repost if you enjoyed!
Glenn Currier Jan 2020
The geese are standing there
just being geese in the grass
poking through the leaves
going deeper for nourishment
may I follow their example
Poetic T Feb 2019
Such a strong branch holding up the
fruits of so many seasons but then one
winters wrath did the wind pick a fight.

Though it fought against the odds, it bent
within the breath of failing and yielded to
                       the chosen fate and befell its birth.


Falling silently in a wood of mute descents,
           where nothing was heard, but everything
knew that something was not as it was before.

Even thought strength held it at the yearning of all
below now it was stagnant. Then eyes pondered upon
its elegance. A fortitude of worth now meant for other means.


And though cleaved it was meant for a purpose,
             not one that it knew, now sewn on to
metallic wows. Sharp edges flowed like breath.

And so many times did it fall, not as before
                       this time it drank a different dew..
    teardrops flowed upon its eternal falling.

But it never grew weak, feeding on the nourishment
                                   of each diminishing stance.
Though it fell from the tree it still grew in depravity.



What was once a yearning life, growing further than
any other. It fell and became contaminated within
                                  earthly pleasures which it drank upon..    

A moment falls that severs ever moment before,
                     and what falls in moments after isn't
confused.  
                             It now has a purpose of the death it felt.
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