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Lost Lilith Dec 2020
What do I live for
When the desires within me
Were once a raging fire now nothing at all?

If I can't have what I yearn for
Then I'll simply look away towards something new
But I can never have anything again

I was never ambiguous but Desire was all I had
Now I desire nothing at all
While I live for the sake of living until I finally break
I'm so pitiful...
Violet Aug 2020
my want for u
to skip on sunshine
on cloud nine leaping for joy

to love another freely
unaccompanied by fear and pain
one to love you absent of restrain
Hansel Apr 2020
when you were born
the world cried
because you didn't

nothing has changed since
Clay Face Mar 2020
What is loved,
now is cumbersome to engage.

Some sort of lethargy resists my path.
Reaching a state of catharsis is draining now.

Not emotionally but physically.

Stuck in this house, with no way out.
Quarantined from a virus.
But I’ve come down with one that leaches my creativity.

Writing this poem is hard. It feels plastic.
Even though I’m writing clear what’s so elastic.

It stretches around me so true,
But when I speak it, it lies and makes me blue.

I need freedom to return to my soul.
And an inoculate to cleanse it of this toll.

These two ailments leave me,
Chained and restrained.
Clay Face Feb 2019
Induced fixation has engulfed us

Fixation of indoctrinated normality,
and the pursuit of said specification.

Who's, characteristics are repugnant to individuality.

We all believe we are different, but we fallow the same shepherd who has snowed us with such lies.

The hypocrisy of, "average is unique", has been whittled into our minds. We bear this scar for the rest of our lives.

To reject the ideology would be to condemn yourself to purgatory. All previous beliefs and known fact would vanish, you would be alone, adrift in nothingness and ultimate confusion.

However, our distraction caused by our fixation on subjective "normality" has blinded us. We find that we are in a crowd, and are unable to see above the billions of heads.

One thing we can see, is a ginormous stage. From which our indoctrination calls its origin.

The microphone upon the origin blocks self reflection and critical thinking through pushing us toward endless lust for their normality.

A normality of political agenda, social agenda, and cultural agenda all forced upon us through "authority".

Evil is one who questions any teachings that originate from the stage. Suppressed is their voice.

Discourse is hate speech.

But we are unique. But we are also normal because we are unique.

Wait

What a paradox

That's just what we are taught

Now that We've questioned our restraints of self exploration and personal growth. We can begin the beginning.

Free of our chains. What is our purpose now?
Nikita Aug 2018
keep telling me how to
Act
Speak
Write
see how long until
the house you built
burns
to the f*cking ground
house is symbolic for self worth
Bryce May 2018
Puff and Pomp of Circumstance
I maestrate my digits unseen
As an old lady hums loudly off-tune
begging to see their face
I tap my fingers to the drum

Watching myself walk the stage
Knowing I will receive no applause
How many people will watch--
Scoff as I go the distance

A piece of paper with a shiny crest,
Firewood, tinder, disinterest

A hilarious dream,
The biggest lie ever sold
But I still walk and talk and sit as I'm told

No great symposium,
No perfect forum

As every time I went to speak
I was silenced,
Pleaded to keep clean

The great farewell
dictation of objectivity
Of dis-indoctrination
I wanted to scream

No ma'am you are mistaken
The quaking words you claim are making
A better world, a better place?
Setting the stage for the end of day

And a rambunctious after-party
Full of mean mead and black wine
******* in the grass of the divine
"Let us remember..."

That they have never been

"...In the holy presence of God"
Contoured Sep 2017
In my garden,
I've planted a seed.
It took a while,
But eventually sprouted a tree.
I would sit underneath,
In the relief of shade.
It was the hottest summer,
The sun had ever made.
I pondered of things,
Untold and unseen.
The tree would support,
My back as I lean.
As the winter dawned,
Something happened.
I stopped visiting the tree,
And it gradually blackened.
The tree grew old,
I did too.
It was there many years,
But I visited it so few.
That very tree,
That had kept me cool.
Held on to its life,
Although life is cruel.
It held on for me,
And that I can't repay.
So I'll set it free,
I'll walk away.
The tree has many more years,
Than I.
I'll hold it back,
If there I lie.
Someone will come,
To take my place.
But until then,
That tree will hold an empty space.
Lizzy Sharples Aug 2017
Turning nocturnal
Eternally slipping deeper
Into sleepless abyss
Darkness shrouds
Thoughts drowning
Crowding internal
Futile attempts
My vile mind can't find peace

Awake but paralysed
Open eyes
But anaesthetised
Restraining
Taming fury that abides
Inside
Cold to the core
Unsure
What it's all for
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