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Falling Up Apr 16
I simmer in the anger
It surrounds me and
Brings life to a boil
Stretches the rubber band
Pulls back on the string of the bow
Hits the bottom of the bungee jump
Gets ready to fire the catapult


It leaves in red hot flashes burning with built up resentment
It snaps and cuts and hurts the innocent
Rather than the stokers of the fire
It slashes and leaves hollow emptiness
In a space once burning with the desire to

A space burning to let go.
That pen was not just
another pen like,
Was close to his heart
soothing moonlike.

He bought that pen
after paying huge cost,
That was one reason
he liked that most.

For sbowing status for
showing the fame,
What he had achieved  
position and name.

Pen was a symbol for
flaunting repute,
That he was on top this
no one dispute.

It reminds him also
reminds the all,
He reached at the top
after many so fall.

But one day in office
that pride was lost.
It was that pen that he
liked the most.

He doubted in office
workers and staff,
At times in office
abruptly he laugh.

He had suspicion on
ally and friend.
Driver & sweeper too
themselves to fend.

One day in office clerk
found  that pen.
Was hidden in file and  
lying since then.

He wished to say sorry
and  admit the guilt.
His ego but came in
his way as a hilt.

Ajay Amitabh Suman:
All Rights Reserved
In many cases, a man is willing to apologize for something he has done wrong, but his ego stands in the way. What could be the result of this, except regretting the mistake?
Jo Swan Oct 2018
Cold Night of Winter,
The Wind flies and sees a small house.
She hears the sound of thumping knock;
Through the window’s house, she enter;
Her eyes widened with state of Shock!

A Little Girl Cries!
A Man strikes his wife in anger-
Face transform into My Hyde.
The Wind can sense the great danger.
Woman soaked in blood and bruises!

The Woman Pleads!
She quivers from shameful violence.
The fearful fate she must cede
As her Husband wants obedience.
Tension escalates in silence.

The Man Strikes Again!
The Woman spirit; crushed in pain!
Ferocious fist full of fury
Like tyrannical typhoon rain.
The Girl cries at her sad story.

Her Father beating her Mother!

The Wistful Wind Weeps!
She tries to sing sweet lullabies-
Knowing The Girl’s scars will run deep.
Pure innocence lost in her eyes
As memories will haunt in sleep!

(c)2018 Joanne Chang
There is a dark secret in many families in this world. Domestic violence can tear families apart and traumatize the silent victims. Sometimes our greatest foe is the person who we call our family. I wanted to  depict the brutal violence of domestic abuse.
Julian Delia Jul 2018
This violent sadness,
A self-devouring source of madness.
It is an Atlantean endeavour,
It is pure, jaw-dropping terror.
It is this dense weight that I carry -
Snap out of it, hurry, do not tarry,
For my shoulders quiver
And my nerves grow tired and bitter.

Please, hurry;
Wake the **** up.
We don’t have much time,
And up to the mountain’s peak
I wish to climb.
Do not delay;
Every moment wasted
Is an inch further towards necrotic decay.

Why could you never understand?
Why did you never want to cross into uncharted land?
Why the need to cocoon in one place?
Why did you resort to making me hate my own face?
This road, this journey that is life -
I will live it on the edge of a knife,
In between the worlds of peace and strife.
With the soles of my feet,
I shall run on burning coals, exposed to heat.
Within the corridors of my heart,
I will host freedom as my eternal mistress,
And make my life her work of art.

A sun that never quite rises,
After all this, I feel like a discoloured iris,
Like a struggling butterfly,
One that does not want to die,
But does not want to live, either.
I don’t know
Whether you’re lying to yourself or me,
But all I know is that of these hateful chains
I wish to be free.

I will now walk alone, towards the balcony,
Ready to jump and spread my wings;
I wish to fly alone,
For the skies have no queens nor kings.
I am who I am,
A soul, permanently on the lam
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
'Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.' - Ernest Hemingway
myrrh Feb 2018
The only person that listens to me is my external dialogue
You call it schizophrenia, I call it a duologue
But in reality it's just, it's just that in a group of two
I am my own leader, subject, enemy and compeer
Born out of a fear of being alone, my mind began to sere
And unintentionally planted a voice into each cerebral hemisphere
Skylar Keith Oct 2017
You speak
You yell
You slam

These are the things I remember

The times of fear
The trembling of my hands
The streams of tears

These are the things I remember

The times of hatred
The fire burning
Yet I hid it
In fear
You slam
That's what I remember

Do you remember?
I don't believe you
The hugs you gave
That drove me insane
You said it was fine
You never asked me
You asked yourself
Is it okay?
That's not what I said

I hope I left a stain
I recall all that

The times when you raised the hand
I don't recall if I felt it
The time I stared at the number on the screen
I took to long
The door opened and you were there
I never made that call
That day is when my Fear burned bright
My instincts told me to run
I was frozen
Had I run
What would you have done?
Raised your voice or your hand
Or something else
I hope I'll never know

I want to know

Are my fears justified
I can only know if I break out of my silence
Silence that screams

Forgetting is what I've done so far
Forget the times
I forget the times that would lessen my fear
Do those times even exist
I don't know
I don't care

I have to break free
A cage I've built for protection
You used it against me
To keep me where you want me

Silence is screaming
All the times
I curled up
I don't want to feel that way
Yet here I am
Staying put in fear
I can't speak
Tongue tied
Screaming Inside
Caught up in my own words
That you will never hear

Shut up
I don't care
Continuation of Empty Memories
theunrealist Oct 2015
I wish to see what I once saw.
To spectate a simple moment that has long passed.
Memories fade, they say,
Fade away from your mind to make room for what's ahead.
But I don't believe that,
I know they are there.
Tucked away deep waiting for the proper time to resurface.
Who is it that decides when these things should be recalled?
If one tries to shut out their emotions and problems
Are they truly shut out at all?
Think over it
Wren Djinn Rain Jul 2015
She comes with a body. Lithe, plain.
Two things Warchief said no, don't chew.
Don't disgrace the Orc way.
If you transgress it better be just to
rip off her arms. You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
He comes with a presence. Foreign.
Alien of the Karwa Wastes.
Don't you pass this chance on.
You recognize, don't you, when
better comes along? You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
Douse the candles in the war hall
for me my lines arrested caught
in the splinters of dry throat
won't reach the thunderous cry
you repress, to release me.
karwa wastes
Teenage Mess Dec 2014
Life, the pursuit of happiness.
Some will go insane trying to fine this "happiness".
They say its just a chemical in balance in your brain,
"Here pop some pills, tell yourself you're happy!"
But what if somewhere along the way we forgot what happy was.
How can we pursue something when we have no idea where to find it, how it feels, what it looks like.
Everyday we'll wake up and place a twinkle in our eyes, a 1000 watt smile on our faces so that those around us don't know.
So that even though the chemical imbalance is there,
And even though we don't know what it feels like, the others around us can go on finding their happienss , forgetting about any of our troubles.
I wrote this because I do it, I see it everyday, I see the pain behind the twinkle and the sadness behind the smile. Please keep fighting my little soldiers, you are strong and beautiful. But most importantly, you are not alone in this hellish struggle.
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