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Sketcher 14h
She said the song was charming,
She had said the boy was cute,
She said I was easy to talk to,
Because I usually remained mute.

She said she liked the biting,
Teeth sunk right into her hips,
She said the blood really turned her on,
But I much rather preferred her lips.

She had a decent boyfriend,
But his love wasn't enough,
She ****** and ****** **** out in the woods,
She was a ***** that preferred this stuff.

At one point I wanted her,
All of her just to myself,
Now I'll avoid her and stay away,
Until she decides to fix herself.

Or should I stay and help her?
I am not sure what to do,
I'll stick around to cure her sickness,
Hopefully I won't catch her flue.
Stay and help or leave and ignore?
Jayson 23h
Will you know?
Will you really know-
The pain-
The hurt-
The suffering?

The long nights-
Awake.
The long days-
Asleep.

Fighting-
Winning-
Losing-
Giving up.

Have you known?
Have you really known-
The cuts-
The scars-
The injuries?

Battles-
Fought.
Wars-
Lost.

Do you know?
Do you really know-
Everything,
Every little thing,
That we went through?
She asked me, "On a scale from 1-10, how much do you love me?"

I told her, "My love can't simply be labeled by a number. That isn't because it's non-existent. That's because it's never-ending."
Just a thought...
Bored out of my mind,
Keep checking the time,
Four minutes till' leave,
I always perceive,
Time slow near the end,
So I have to spend,
My time writing poems,
Until I walk home.

All of a sudden,
I could see the gun,
Pointed right towards me,
Then the clock struck three,
As the bell did yell,
I ran, tripped, and fell,
Bullets screamed, desks flipped,
Light beamed eyes, I slipped.

The man walked around me,
Floor littered with bodies,
I was knocked out, then woke,
No lying bodies spoke,
I tried hard to play dead,
But then he had said,
"No sleep, this isn't bed",
As the bullet of lead,
Plummeted into my head,
Unconsciousness indefinitely spread.

Yet now I was awake,
At my desk in a lake,
Of sweat and shaking fear,
To me, it would appear,
This was all a day dream,
Boy, that dream was extreme,
Very realistic,
And not idealistic,
In the least, then I saw,
My fat teacher withdraw,
A pistol from the wall,
What happened, did I fall,
Back into the nightmare?,
After thinking this thought,
I was shot and killed right then and there,
Right on the spot...
Raise the consciousness. Also, my 100th poem!!!
They asked me
"what would you do if you saw him kissing someone else?"
I didn't answer
because I knew I would break down when I told them
that I remembered when you would kiss me
I remembered the softness,
the hunger of your lips
the way your hands would hold my waist
and pulled me against your body
the way your hair felt under my fingertips
the way you picked me up as if I weighed nothing
the way my legs wrapped around your waist
only when we had ran out of oxygen
our lips parted
and your lips formed the most beautiful,
the most perfect smile
My heart was racing
I was breathless
I was happy
I was in love
so
the day I see you kiss someone else
and I realize that it's not me you're kissing
I will remember exactly that,
once again
and it will break my heart
I will cry,
Silently.
if you smile at her
then I will want to die
I will want to make her bleed you out of her system
but I won't,
because I will also remember that
you are not mine anymore
Baby, I still love you
I’ll always will
but I will simply
walk away.
To my dear lab partner and friend.
If there was a button to erase existence...

Good memories
Bad memories
All that lives within existence
Everything you care and lack care about
Gone and devalued...


Would you press it?
It's hard for me to ask for advice
Because you don't live in my head
You can only advise from what you hear
To the extent of what I said
So how can I expect an answer
When you don't fully understand
The question that I'm asking you
Is more difficult to comprehend
I don't blame if you don't know
Because you really don't
Though I don't know either
To ask a second time, I won't
Last week
I had raised an open question;
There is no response.
I know because I have scanned
The air,
All newspapers and weekly tracts,
My mail
And even my phone calls;
The silence stays.
O, gentle heart!
Do not ask me to repeat that question.
Except you
I do not owe to anyone
My trust and faith.
I have forgotten my being,
I must know who I am.
Lost I roam in this wilderness;
I want someone to find me
Soon
And not question my presence.
Aysha Dec 2
I’ve come to learn that I cannot pray
With a full heart that’s devoted, unsuspecting of faith.
And I’ve learned to accept that *** might have mercy
But he also has wrath
And that’s what I see mostly.

Wars and death surround us so profoundly and yet we just pray harder
so we can sleep soundly

Uncertainty is deadly
I’m sadly inclined to believe so
At least in this place
Where it’s wrong to show ankle& toe.
Or have weak faith be the reason or your woes
Maybe ***’s anger is why you’re not good at this and that
It’s also why you can’t find your ‘perfect’ match
Because your heart is tainted, and your mind too aware so they never fancy you as a ‘catch’
You’re not porcelain doll either, you’re full of scar and scratch
so start praying harder dear (there’s no future with Gyllenhaal or Cumberbatch)
and so you’re expected to bloom before you even hatch
because nothing matters more than finding a match
Or else you’d grow old and be trapped
with lonesome that kills and a reality that slaps.
“that’s what *** intended”
Is what I’m forced to believe
so I can pray harder
and never have time to grieve

why would *** mind if I *******
Or participate in a heated debate
About his existence (whether it’s real or fake)
And why he causes all this heartache
Because yet again
All I see is death and wrath
and sometimes I drown myself in a bath
To escape all I’ve come to hate
About this place and how people tell me my fate
Because anything different would make the Lord angry
Like raising your voice
Or acting ‘manly’

So When will he shed light
And make a child of war’s smile somewhat bright
Because he abandoned them
Or so it seems
I guess he’s too caught up with my wildest dreams
& the length of my jeans.
zb Nov 29
am i a puppet?
what are these strings?
i was told i
could become so many things

i'm used to the whispers,
i'm used to the lies,
i'm used to the looks
i've been given so many times

am i not my own?
can i not fly?
instead of being given my wings
i'm told not to try

kick me while i'm down,
split my lip across your fist,
i'll be what you want,
the nightmare for which you've wished

don't cry when i come,
don't cry when i leave,
i was never a thing
for you to grieve
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