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Lance May 24
Black Sheep,Black Sheep
Fade away
Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Go Away

Always living A lie
Many wanting you to die
Yet always crawling to survive
Despite never wanted to be alive

Wishing to take part
But being torn Apart
Black Sheep among the white
Always getting the Bite

Why walk
When always given the talk
Why continue on
When only wanted to be gone

Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Stay away
Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Never stay
I have always felt left out by my family, always the odd one out, the outcast or the person always yelled at. I try to fight but I always end up short. And that's when they told me they never wished me to be here anyway. And I knew I was the black sheep among the white. Always different. Always left alone.
Poetic T Apr 21
Watching as my wares are consumed
within this vessel carrying
              my world.
Checking as if I were
                 revising for that exam..

If I fail..

       My heart palpitating as beads
of sweat congregate upon every
      thought.
Dripping into pools of reality..

Wish I was there, locking my door I breath...
Wulf and Eadwacer
anonymous Anglo-Saxon poem, circa 960 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My clan’s curs pursue him like crippled game.
They’ll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.

Wulf’s on one island; we’re on another.
His island’s a fortress fastened by fens.
Here, bloodthirsty curs howl for carnage.
They’ll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.

My thoughts pursued Wulf like panting hounds.
Whenever it rained—how I wept!—
the boldest cur grasped me in his paws.
Good feelings for him, but for me, loathsome!
Wulf, O, my Wulf, my ache for you
has made me sick; your infrequent visits
have left me famished, deprived of real meat!
Do you hear, Eadwacer? Watchdog!
A wolf has borne our wretched whelp to the woods.
One can easily sever what never was one:
our song together.

Originally published by Measure

"Wulf and Eadwacer" may be the oldest poem in the English language written by a female poet. It has been classified as an elegy, a lament, an early ballad or villanelle, a riddle, a charm, and a frauenlieder or "woman's song." This famously ambiguous poem is hard to pin down!

Keywords/Tags: Wulf, Eadwacer, Anglo-Saxon, Old English, translation, wolf, pack, ****, whelp, baby, child, dogs, curs, hounds, island, fens, woods, sacrifice, song, sever, severed
Joz Sep 2019
I took the first stick out of its pack,
light it up and began to think back.
The 'hello' we had back then,
in the airport I went.

I took the second stick out of its pack,
light it up and began to think back.
The type of happiness that has gone for long;
as I realized your heart is a place I don't belong.

Anymore.
Wednesday, 04 September 2019
13:12
Kewayne Wadley Jun 2019
Far away from here
I lay in the deepest corner of your mind.
I've packed my bags
in search of the many times
you've kissed the air.
The new sights and events
seen through your eyes.
I packed light
knowing the most essential thing
was reaching at least one of a million
of your passed thoughts.
Far away from here,
I've missed you so much.
When I close my eyes
I am there with you.
I packed light knowing that my favorite
everything resides where you are
Poetress2 Apr 2019
Wolves hunt in a pack.
They look out for each other,
like a family.
David Abraham Nov 2018
I can wipe away tears
and wrap my arms around a friend
to comfort him
when I am saying goodbye to someone I have known since the day I was born
but I cannot hide the turmoil so well
when I crouch on the bedroom floor
packing for him
getting ready to live without him.
2355 November 15 2018
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