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Blade Maiden Jul 2018
Can I come a little bit closer?
Like this?
That's okay?
I know I'm such a poser.
Feeling more like a loser.

Is it alright if I say this?
Too much?
Too soon?
Can't believe I already miss
your company when I'm supposed to be in his

Arms, strong enough to hold me
but what if I need softness to be
the strength I'm holding on to; she
gives me something more to see
in darkened eyes great honesty

I'll keep your words with great pride
Show yourself to me, don't hide
Let me stay a bit longer                                                    by your side.
Jeff Gaines Feb 2018
My third day here at Hello Poetry
and I've encountered one already.
I know, I know … they're everywhere …
painfully, woefully steady.

Nine-hundred posts and more …
He parades around as a poet.
But to read his prose in the English language …
you'd swear that he doesn't even know it.

He says that I have everything wrong
and that “We know that God is right".
I've no idea about anything at all, he claims,
but it's this “We” who is starting the fight.

His "We" attacks my words, my themes
and even my beliefs.
Instead of offering help or praise,
"We" slings only grief.

I've seen his type all over the world …
a sad and cowardly sod.
Nothing more than a lonely Troll (read: bully)
trying to hide behind God.

When I tell him that I'm blocking him from my sector,
he doesn't behave like any Pastor …
Instead "His Holiness" sends an all-telling message ...
calling me a “*******”.

He doesn't even know my parents.

Isn't that a hoot?

February 26th, 2018
That was quick, he found me fast! My first here ... and hopefully ... the last.
I do feel sorry for them, in my way. But being lonely or insecure is no excuse for terrorizing others. My pet peeve of all bullies though, are the one's who act all self-righteous and judgmental in the name of "God" in an attempt to keep you from returning fire or even standing up to them.
That ... is simply pathetic.
CE Dec 2017
sat on a bench in dusky darkness
notepad and cigarette in hand
far too enthralled in my own creative genius to realise
I got ash and cinders on my trench coat
a small grey hole pierced the sleek black look I was going for
and when I smell burning
I look down and sigh

now how am I going to get people to think I'm deep?
I'm so **** pretentious, I need to take it back a notch.
Emma Apr 2016
I'm in love
With my "depression"
It makes me feel special
Makes me feel better

I'm so hungry
For your pity
Help me
Push me away

Into a hole and I'll sit there
Unable to climb out
A ladder next to me
A grin on my face

I wear a rope around my neck
Customised for optimal comfort
Decorated to my taste

I long to be entombed
I'm a human waste of space

And here's a word of advice:
To every one of you

Always be
The one with bigger scars

Always wear the tightest rope
Always be the one
In the chokiest car

The only one
To feel the gloom
Always be
The one to breath the fumes
The saddest person
In any room
Ellis Reyes Nov 2015
There he is
the loudest guy in the bar
Boasting about clandestine OPS
and battles he’d ‘prefer not to remember’,
But he does,
because he has an audience

There he was in Ramadi, Korengal,
Tikrit, Kandahar, pinned down by dozens,
no hundreds, of enemy fighters.
His best mate, was hit by shrapnel or an enemy round.
He screams for Doc
But no help comes
The barroom hero
applies a compression bandage,
but the blood continues to flow through his fingers
Minutes pass, his buddy worsens.
Doc arrives, finally.
The buddy is stabilized and loaded onto a stretcher
He’ll be on the first bird out

The battle hardened warrior continues his tale,
regaling his table with airstrikes, CQB, and
taking the battle to the enemy.

Someone asks, “What unit were you in?”
He replies proudly, “The Second Ranger Battalion.”

You set your own beer down and spin from your chair.
You make your way from your table to his.
You place a silver coin upon it,
“Second Ranger Battalion,” you say,
“Coin Check.”

The color drains from his face
Fear in his eyes and an ‘Oh ****’ expression on his face,
He stammers something about being ‘attached’
and having orders for Ranger School once.

Your icy glare tells him that he’d better
**** and **** before he is no longer able to do either.

He throws a $20 onto the table and finds his way to the door.

******* ****.
xie Sep 2015
we used to be friends
best of friends actually
but when you let insecurities get you
you became a poser and broke my trust
JR Falk May 2015
Burnt out like the **** of an old cigarette,
lipstick stained,
excitement drained,
nothing left but a ***** filter.
I'm seeing you for what you really are,
an addictive, silent killer.
You're romanticized by everyone,
except maybe yourself.
Oh, the coolest people have you
when they have nobody else.
Turns out, they're just victims
of a lifelong game of tag.
Still waiting for the moment
the chase ends and
they don't have to keep running back.
Like they're not supposed to have anything else to do,
almost like if they stopped,
they'd have no one
and you'd stop coming around
to build them up when they needed a kick,
giving them the smallest of highs.
You'd stop coming around and making them see
the world through your eyes.
Almost like it's so bad without you,
when really you're a pest-
gifted at knowing how to infest,
buzzing overhead no matter where they go,
inescapable like a dream.
Night after night,
whether they live alone or
with a family of six,
you keep up your tricks,
and the game's getting old.
Sometimes you gotta learn when to stop,
but it's repetition at its finest,
cancer stick to cancer stick until the
clock strikes twelve
and your gig is up.
Take your time,
they'll all see it soon.
Til then,
dissect their minds
don't let them be.
You're toxic as you are,
but not toxic to me.
It just kinda happened
Sliver of silver moonlight beams.
From the other side of the  window gleams.
Shines so bright in this dark lit room.
But I cant get out of this awful gloom.
Heart aches and I feel it cracking.
But I cant think of reasons for it to be happening.
I hate myself and I'm so ******* sad.
I'm no good at anything and it makes me mad.
I cant make music, I'm an awful writer.
I have no degree so I'm impossible to hire.
I grew up never knowing what to do.
With no interests, talents, or will to give clue.
I'm stuck as an adult with what feels like no future.
I'm stuck in my head and I feel like a loser.
I don't know anything and I hate myself.
Wish there was a way to escape this hell.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
oh delicious jealousy,
it tastes sour and
black like plaque.
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