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N-umbed heart slaughtered **** Godly lives
E-nslaved mind sent messages to conscience
W-inning by killing was not the teaching
Z-ombies are being replaced by us
E-thereal was the human soul called- peace and beauty laid in it
A-mbitious for making the world but every pint on blood on land is irony
L-ove was meant to heal, but today the love of religion killed lives
A-rdent peace in every life lost is such a dying-bloom
N-ever was it wanted out of humans,
D-emons were made for such an onslaught!
I pray for the lives lost in the Newzealand Mosque attack. We all have to stand together to create a beautiful world of love and togetherness. These evil are born out of us. We have the duties on our shoulders to create a peaceful and society which embraces unity. We have created **** basis for divisions- Religion, borders, ***, caste, creed and hell lot more. Let's come together and carve out a peaceful world!
Autumn Lewis Sep 2018
The button glares it's hideous grin beckoning me to give it one good push
Start Over is plastered over it's red polish
Why is the button always red? I question
I am numbed my core rotten as I stick in my hands in to see if my heart still beats
Everything fades and my senses feel as though it is just an anesthetic
I try to see but all I know is this dream within my nightmare
The button grows further and further away
Will I be able to reach it in time?
I don't know...
This is my experience being high the first time and my general mind set right now
Poetic T Jul 2016
I urinate on your weak wording,
not out of disrespect but I find that
this is all the apologise that they need.

Can I give your thoughts merit on mere
wording, No.... they brain damage me,
to a Neanderthal grasping of should I touch fire.

I try to inhibit my attention but I wrap my
mind around a lamp post and my thoughts
bleed swiftly out on the road till they die..

They are like full beam on a dark road leading
to the eventuality of my mind blinded thinking
how could this have been shone before eyes.

I urinated on your word just to put the fire out
that was burning on the page, charcoal words
were washed quickly from my now numbed mind.
winter sakuras Apr 2016
If you come knocking at my door,
With your bag full of clothes and money,
With your eyes full of our starry dreams,
With dark mysterious glasses perched on the bridge of your defiant nose,
With a long dark scarf covering your square chin and the sturdy ridges of your throat,
Empty handed and barefoot as I had always been before,
I will follow you.

The seat behind you on your Harvey has always rightfully been mine,
The wind whipping around us,
The closing distance of the sunset,
The sturdy feel of your waist I wrap my arms around,
They will always belong to us,
Those fleeting moments,
Those fading seconds of time.

But it’s true when they say nothing ever lasts,
One second I was holding you in my arms,
The next there was nothing but empty air and slow registration of your departure,
Where did you go,
And why did you leave me?
When we had promised each other to never let go?

The light in the darkness of your eyes,
The words transcending to crystals when they roll off your rough tongue,
The toughness of your knuckles and calves,
The roughness of your forearms and chest,
I remember so vividly,
But you don’t seem to have been remembering me as much.

I am not someone who cries,
There is nothing to gain from tears,
I am not someone who takes pain very well,
I don’t want to go day by day living in fear,
Of the next person I fall for deciding to leave me as well.

But as the seconds tiptoe by,
I feel a teardrop sliding down my palm,
I feel the makings of a cold, hard shell,
Of which I know will become what others will see of me.
What will become of me?
Well that depends on your departure
or your return.
For Rapunzel
Far too many
are blinded by what they see,
deafened by what they hear,
pascified by what they do,
valued by what they have,
and numbed by what they feel.

Dare to venture yet deeper
within thy own being.
Do not surrender so lightly
to spiritual atrophy
for thy Godself shall suffice!

Thy Well
is not to be so shallow
even in the worst known droughts
of the Soul.
Nickols Jul 2014
The past hurts like an ocean made up of opaque glass.
And you asked me to exist within the shatter-jagged fragments.
An amphibious creature,
Breathing the pain through shredded gills.
Numbed, bruised and bleeding.
Wounds are what they called them.
Battle torn from a thousand different edges.
Don't you feel them?
  The watery shards wedging into your sides,
  Piercing your lungs of the will to exhale.
I feel it, like rough hands upon my neck;
  Tearing through my flesh.  
  Slipping down my throat.
Till I'm choking on red.

You asked, and I confessed.
My passions, the black and the blue.
Inhaling the wine-water,
I want to save you.
Even with an ocean of glass standing in my way.
I want to save you.
Swimming and swimming, until this agony bled away.
I wanted to save you.
Even though I knew I couldn't.
*I wanted to be the one to save you.
Taya Nata Jun 2014
please don't fall in public
don't let them see
tears are just a reminder
of the pain inside of me

I never had a friend
who saw when my tears rained down
I never had a friend,
who cared if I was around

I used to try and hold them in,
late nights where spent pondering if death was the way
it seemed I was drunk off my pain, and my tears helped numb that

it seems to me that tears are just another way of numbing myself.
Sorry this is rough, my head is all over the place
I'm sure I heard it
Did you ?
The snap or was it a clap
Can't tell it's been too distorted and echoed around my empty soul
Or rather this husk of what I used to feel: the love the triumph the passion the validation .

Now I'm sure I heard it or was it you clicking and praising my words yeah maybe that's what I heard no I can feel the sinking this hole in my chest I can't listen to my heart it's voice has be laid to rest six feet is quiet a feat.

There it is again
no that was just a ding for an idea or a notion pleading to me to take action but this is a fallacy, a distraction
I'm ignoring the signs to busy thinking what is mine rather then keeping what was mine now I'm left with nothing

ahh

There it is, that distinctive ring

listen...

The timbre is right I can hear the angels sing.
this cold unloving content or is it fury I can't know surely but this time, this time.. I heard the snap of my mind

It sounded like click  . clack . **bang
Wrote this now I'm a Tad rust I must say

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