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EP Robles Sep 2018
Thimble and needle hear
my words

you're too busy these days
to love

I've followed you through
and through

the toughest patches of life
and now my thread

has grown too thin
and we'll never survive
never survive never survive
the stitching of our hearts

Paper, rock and scissors
needles, pins and threader

rulers of horror measure
the terror of my nightmare

as I watch the needle
of your busy work pierce
the tissue of my heart

I'll never survive

never survive the sowing
of the madness
              that's your mind

:: 04-21-2018 ::
Stitching and itching thoughts and emotions.
Andrew Saromines Nov 2017
I wake up tired of the sounds and sights and feelings of me
And being is a chore and believing is weak
In the face of my hate for the reflection I see
Not a single thing with which to agree
And that's fine
And this is sad
And I hurt
Quietly
But I scream behind this screen
With letters filled with grief
At least the writings good
Or so I'd like to think
A lie that I could take something so horrid
And give it a pretty face
Could just be ****
I'll sink with this ship
I'll learn my place
Quietly
So I hope the water is warm when it fills my lungs
And I hope I don't bother when I finally succumb
I'll do my best to leave how I lived
So don't break the streak of absentmindedness
While I cease to exist
Quietly
Seanathon Apr 2017
I need to know
Or else I'm afraid, that I must go
Quietly into this good night

Because not knowing
Of this so and so
Destroys my heart and plagues my mind

Every... Single... Time....
At midnight... Because the night will fade. Equally... Every time.
Pomoloma May 2016
Usually

Invisibility is something you see

On a TV

Ironically

But the truth of the matter

Is that if you look at her

Sitting there quietly

Just watching society

Carry on with it's creation

Not joining the conversation

You may notice

You need to refocus

To make visible

*Those things that are not
Äŧül Apr 2016
It is an Indian midnight,
Here it descends so quietly,
But now it is here so quickly,
So sonorous is the zeroth hour,
But none will listen to its music,
Hear the crickets breaking the silence,
In the end, it's midnight.
Midnight Poem.

My HP Poem #1053
©Atul Kaushal
Annie McLaughlin Mar 2016
Tip toe quietly on yout feet
Don't you dare you miss a beat
Make around the floor-set traps
Wide awake as the rest of the world naps
Creak the door open just a slight
Enough to sneak away into the night
Ignore the clatter of bottles and breaths
Soon enough they'll be just deaths
Climb the barrier that separates care
For that courage resides somewhere
Tip toe quietly on your feet
Don't you dare you skip a beat
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