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Amitiel Sep 2020
Beyond is a bleak, grey skyline

I barely recognize my vignette

Yet here I am, walking that thin white line

As if I had not met him yet



I barely recognize my vignette

Black swans move like serpentines

As if I had not met him yet

Slow, calculated, but ready to strike at cloud nine



Black swans move like serpentine

He still whispers in my ear, I just cannot forget

Slow, calculated, but ready to strike me at cloud nine

“Pulvis et umbra sumus,” was his epithet



He still whispers in my ear, I just cannot forget

Their banshee bugle wails overcome; I am confined

“Pulvis et umbra sumus,” was his epithet

Like smashed cherries, their eyes were as ****** as port wine



Their banshee bugle wails overcome; I am confined

He wanted to mold to be a useful asset

Like smashed cherries, their eyes were as ****** as port wine

I gladly follow those threats



He wanted to mold me to be a useful asset

What called them on was my mental upset

I gladly follow those threats

There is nothing to regret



What called them on was my mental upset

It is foolish to once think I could outshine

There is nothing to regret

All I have ahead is a relentless battle line



It is foolish to once think I could outshine

I am merely a pathetic statuette

All I have ahead is a relentless battle line

Soon they all will forget



I am merely a pathetic statuette

Onyx swans call me to the brackish streamline

Soon they all will forget

It is there I snipped that innocent white line



Onyx swans call me to the brackish streamline

He influences my mindset

It is there I snipped that innocent white line

Time becomes frigid as I sink into that brine outlet



He influences my mindset

My body is limp in the alkaline

Time becomes frigid as I sink into that brine outlet

It is there I found no lifeline



My body is limp in the alkaline

The onyx swans fly in a v-line sextet

It is there I found no lifeline

He brought me to the finish with no reset



Beyond was a bleak, grey skyline

Yet there I was, walking that thin white line.
Last decent pantoum I fleshed out before going off Citalopram.
Sigh

Sometimes I wake up out of breath
Questioning if I am living only for death
My bed holds bad dreams and demons
No peace comes when I am sleeping

Questioning if I am living only for death
I hate my life and I have nothing left
No peace comes when I am sleeping
Only thing keeping me sane is books

I hate my life and I have nothing left
I care for others more than I do myself
Only thing keeping me sane is books
My friends wear makeup and cute looks

I care for others more than I do myself
I can hardly stand getting out of bed
My friends wear makeup and cute looks
While I can't stomach my own reflection
Sometimes I wake up out of breath

-A Black Girl Untold
Alia Dec 2019
Crackling bolts of light pierce the sky
The sound of shaking thunder rocks the earth
A storm of vengeful gods live up on high
Their thunderbolts determining our worth

The sound of shaking thunder rocks the earth
The fearful children try desperately to hide
Their thunderbolts determining our worth
We’re powerless to whatever they decide

The fearful children try desperately to hide
The gods above care not for our concern
We’re powerless to whatever they decide
On a whim this whole world they could burn

The gods above care not for our concern
A storm of vengeful gods live up on high!
On a whim this whole world they could burn
Crackling bolts of light pierce the sky
Alia Dec 2019
The heat outside burns the world today
The sun above scorns the earth below
And watching children running out to play
I wonder what has happened to the snow

The sun above scorns the earth below
Sweltering heat created by its rage
I wonder what has happened to the snow
As a world once in eternal ice age

Sweltering heat created by its rage
I wonder which is better, snow or fire?
As a world once in eternal ice age
We welcome any change from cold so dire

I wonder which is better, snow or fire?
Ice is so familiar and fire’s new
We welcome any change from cold so dire
If this is rebirth, we will make it through

Ice is so familiar and fire’s new
And watching children running out to play
If this is rebirth we will make it through
The heat outside burns the world today
TheKindling Oct 2019
This autumn season
For fall scented candles
Give depression a reason
To prove a counterexample

For fall scented candles
Remind us of winter
To prove a counterexample
How people wither

Remind us of winter
Seasonal depression's returns
How people wither
With personal concerns

Seasonal depression returns
To prepare for a storm
With personal concerns
Leaving little warm.

Give depression a reason
To prepare for a storm
Leaving little warm
This autumn season.
Pantoum about fall and seasonal depression. I'm not sure if the last stanza leaves the reader with the idea that depression is going to be fought in the storm, I hope so because I wanted to end this on an uplifting note. Please let me know what you think.
Gets no love the one who doesn't love.
It's not Karma, but simple logic.
Even if he does, it's a sort of odds,
Making the canon candid.

It's not Karma, but simple logic;
The misanthrope is alone -
Who doesn't like water, will suffocate in,
Who doesn't like life, will be perishing in.

The misanthrope is alone.
This is all a matter of nature-
One may hide in a mass like serpent,
Still being poisonous, threatening.

This is all a matter of nature;
The old song of yin and yang-
Darkness isn't overthrown by brightness,
But they fulfill the scheme of destiny.

The old song of yin and yang-
The side uncursed by goodness
Is the side blessed with senselessness,
Extreme plainness and severity.

The side uncursed by goodness
Fulfills the dark side of the bright -
Without looking for doing the right
Since it's all self-implemented.

Fulfilling the dark side of the bright,
Giving chance for the light,
And bearing all the dark of the moon,
He may be a hero, the antigone.

Giving chance for the light,
Getting no love while another does,
We - people - serve perfect bad examples
For there's no hero without Antihero.

Getting no love while another does,
Even if getting that's out of odds;
Darkness isn't overthrown by brightness,
But each fulfills a scheme in destiny.

We've been and we'll be gone even as antigone.
20.10.2019
8M Aug 2019
Cinders and ashes cover the ground
Mama and papa nowhere to be found
I scream out loud; no, there's no sound
Oh where, oh where, could they be

Mama and papa nowhere to be found
Could they be singing my lullaby
Oh where, oh where, could they be
Please, cry out that old melody

Could they be singing my lullaby
I shant go far from the truth
Please, cry out that old melody
The song that reminds me of you

I shant go far from the truth
I know they'll be sleeping with stars
The song that reminds me of you
That one last tune from afar
Another day, another pantoum.
Riz Mack Jul 2019
the one who thinks he always knows best
tightly wrapped in his safety vest
of surety, ignorance and pompous prattle
never aware he lost the battle

never a care for a fact or a lesson
he's content with merely guessing
before he even knows the question
he's already got suspections

yeah, suspections
it IS a word
why would I look it up?
I already heard

and I said it
so that makes it a - what?

No, I don't "always know best"
fine, then
why don't you finish the rest?
note to self
Samantha Rose Apr 2019
In the wake of darkness
I could pick you out of a crowd
Just by the smell of your scent
Because it's my favorite perfume

I could pick you out of a crowd
With no doubt in my mind
Because it's my favorite perfume
You wear it all the time

With no doubt in my mind
I would wear it when you no longer do
You wear it all the time
I will not ever stop taking it in

I know you are my mother
Just by the smell of your scent
No matter where I am
Even in the wake of darkness
I wanted to try something different so I decided to write a pantoum. Enjoy!
When you are flavor of the week,
you’re the taste of rusted nails in a sea of teeth
from biting at the inside of my cheek.
I mourn the screams buried underneath my tongue.

You’re the taste of rusted nails in a sea of teeth
because you speak a language of silence.
I mourn the screams buried underneath my tongue.
They are so delicate

because you speak a language of silence,
from biting at the inside of my cheek.
They are so delicate
when you are flavor of the week
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