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So far and yet so close we seem
to be from the things that make us happy.
At times, our game-winning shot misses.
At times, our lovers leave us to just wishes.
Hurt, pain, and sorrow lays in our end
to a life without love or friend.
These feelings strangle and smother
our peace like the wrath of none other.

Repetition. From repeated reaches to resurgence,
to taking tyrannical triumph, to taking rejoice,
I repeatedly have nothing. Words of
“try again” and “get over it” reverberate in
my mind, rocking my resolve to sleep.
Rupturing results rips, tears through tiers of
my resilience, turning me to tears. They creep
into my dreams, upon my thrills, onto my choices,
inside my hopes, like ants in tents. With cruel intent,
every failure rends me so intense.

But how to respond?
If I show a lack of care by a loss,
“Maybe it wasn’t too serious”.
But if I reply with hurt and sadness,
“maybe you’re just overreacting”.
But only for so long can I just
“make the best out of a bad situation”.
How many times do I need to fail,
in order to succeed?
If I didn’t care so much, then
I wouldn’t hurt so much.
But what is a life lived so unlively?
Why am I wrong to make the most
of what I’m given? To wish, to hope
is seen as good ambition when it’s
a success, but when I fail then I overdid it?
May 1, 2018: Failure really *****. The feeling of being right at the start of the finish line and seeing someone just barely crossing it before you can is an awful tragedy. These failures can also be the events in life that alter and change our perceptions, thoughts, and views of the world.
Shounak Apr 12
Cheer up mate, come out of the blue
How can I? Every shadow I see reminds me of you
My memory eludes me wish I could say
Because even after 5 years, it feels like yesterday
All those memories, now a part of the past
If only I knew this time would be the last
Stop thinking about her I say in the mirror
But deep down I wish I could see her
Atleast the mason is true to his job
Where I can't even be true to myself.
by Michael R. Burch

In a dream I saw boys lying
under banners gaily flying
and I heard their mothers sighing
from some dark distant shore.

For I saw their sons essaying
into fields—gleeful, braying—
their bright armaments displaying;
such manly oaths they swore!

From their playfields, boys returning
full of honor’s white-hot burning
and desire’s restless yearning
sired new kids for the corps.

In a dream I saw boys dying
under banners gaily lying
and I heard their mothers crying
from some dark distant shore.

Keywords/Tags: war, recursion, recurring, repetition, cycle, violence, banners, guns, oaths, mothers, tears, sighs
Dez Mar 23
Today shall never be
Opposite of yesterday
My how we some times wish it to go away
Older still it grows
Reborn again at twelve
Relive today again
On this cycle never ends
When is tomorrow going to show?
Tomorrow will never be today, but we learned that yesterday.
Nicholas Mar 4
Going from a smoke bomb
to a pipe bomb
to a fire bomb
call it vietnam.
Take it to the car bomb
to the time bomb
to the flying bomb
we call the atom bomb.
Gray Dawson Mar 3
Help my mind won't stop.
It's screaming.                      LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN.
-let the thoughts take over-
Let them find me at my worst.
Bug -eyed-
                                                                   Obsessed over pointless memories.
Memories that won't stop running
Running round and round and round.
One person. One scene. Two scenes. Three scenes. Scream.
Four scenes. Five scenes. Six scenes. Seven scenes. Scream.
Seven hundred scenes. Eight thousand scenes. Nine million scenes. Scream.

-my mind won't stop-
Carlo C Gomez Feb 29
1-hour photo lab: an aged prop:

One hundred years of solitude: glass city:
yellow be their faithful death:

She prefers another color
for the bedroom wall:

She's in the spotlight
staged like a warm peach:

'Almost a spy--
looking forward to a bright and wonderful future'
--eternally and everlasting:

What do you give the person
who thinks they have it all?
that dull brown stocking to wear on his feet
Iz Feb 18
I repeat it. I repeat it. I repeat it. I repeat it.
I mean repetition prevents shock.
I mean repetition prevents
So if I say I’m sad I’m sad I’m sad I’m sad I’m sad will I stop being surprised or ashamed
So ashamed
I mean repetition doesn’t prevent shock it creates boredom or expectancy in what you repeat
So if my voice repeats my cries, my sadness,
Will I stop being surprised... I meant can I find a way for my family
Can I find a way for my family
Can I hide away from my family
Can I find a way for my family to expect that my suffering will never end?
I'd like to ask you to repeat what you just said but I'm afraid to ask.
I've never been able to bring myself to ask anything, in fear of being wrong or sounding dumb.
This is a predicament, without questions I don't know what I'm doing but I cannot force myself to ask you.
I cannot ask you to make an exception for me either, for I don't speak up at all.

How does one just ask a question? I freak out about just speaking.
I can't even speak up above my name being pronounced wrong!
Could you please repeat your explanation? I'm softspoken and don't like speaking.
I can't bring myself to physically ask you so I just look miserable until you ask what's wrong.

Questions. It's all I have, yet I can't bring myself to say anything.
These anxieties I have are dead weight, I can't keep going.
I hate it all. Why can't I speak up? Why can't I ask questions? What's wrong with me?
Am I incorrect?

It's all the same depressing thoughts. "You're never going to make it through life."
I hear it every day. The same phrase. It repeats itself, something I could never do.
I can't feel anything because of this, I feel the need to repress it.
I'm going to ask again; could you please repeat yourself?
I can't speak up.
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