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Crossbow Jan 6
A confusion, a haunting sense
Of emptiness, an absence
Of light, while darkness
Consumes me. A flailing mess
As panic overrides my
rationale, my fear gathers
In folds and puddles, stacks sky high
They said, 'You’re not like the others;
You’re different, you’ll make us proud!”
‘But I don't think so!’ I shout out loud
And run, because I'm frightened. Pain
Shoots through my veins, and there, again
I have lifted the bar of expectations higher
Pointed the gun at my very own head
And shot. Now I have no desire
To live, to fight. My will is dead
And so am I;
So am I.

Now I hang from the ceiling, the rope
Taut against my neck, all hope
Of living again, fighting my sorrow
Gone, there’s no more a tomorrow.

Now I bleed out on the grass
My wrist split open, a shard of glass
Lying beside me, which like a key
Had opened for the world a rare sight to see.
Now I drown; in water, in guilt
I lose my breath. I grip the hilt,
Drive the sword through my leaden heart
I reach the end of existence, when a part
Of me reaches into my depths and finds
A spark. Oh, the lord’s been kind!

Death after death stirs a life inside me
Now I won’t let my grief hide me
From the world. I’m still in here!
I can hear you, fight me if you dare!

I’ve been through **** and come back, my dear
I have nothing to lose, nothing to fear
I feel like glowing, like gold, flowing
My spirits are alive
And so am I;
So am I.
It's okay to burn yourself to the ground. You'll rise from the ashes.
Drops of rain
Cool and soothing,
Dent the dusty surface of my garden.
They form shallow pools
That reflect clouds
Gathered low dark and dense in the sky
As though about to fall.
Be it you or me,
We cannot avoid the rain;
It’s touch
Revives sagging life,
Makes flowers bloom
And, laughter returns.
Why must I
Seek the slight breeze
That has roughly brushed my face,
Ruffled my hair,
Teased me inconsistently,
And momentarily enervated me;
The same breeze
That arose from the nearby bush
Where I had left
All my valuable dreams  
To weaken and fall apart;
The one that had also seen
Those dreams touch me
And gain momentum.
Instead, why do I not
Revive and relive those dreams?
I know my day has just begun
The sun ablaze is pouring light
And those awake are seen to run
The birds have taken to the sky
But listless on my bed I wait
To sip the tea here served to me
Soon I shall be up and sound
To fling a stone across the green
To test my mighty arm and sight
And rule this world so dear to me
I could not wait for the rain to stop
Eager I was to feel its dampness
I stepped out and swiftly walked
Towards the thick mango-grove
Wanting those trees to drape me
With their strong and sweet aroma
But by the time I reached them
The scent of the earth sticking to me
Had all washed away from my skin
The downpour was indeed heavy

Tethered to the edge of existence
The boat meant for me to tide over
All forms of pain and joy stood still
Beyond the pithiness of vacant words
The darkness that exposed my cause
Laid bare my brittle bones deadly white
Blurred were my vision and the sense of touch
And I could not properly see or feel
Once again I had to seek refuge
I had to seek the dampness of rain
Avery Nov 2018
You left me—
dreaming of skin
                               and bones,
of smoke and cold,
of silence alone in an
empty home.

You left me trapped—
invisible in my own skin
              wanting bones,
and only finding them in my
own shadow.

You were strong when you stole—
my family, my friends, my family,
my friends, school — just stay in bed—
sleep alone, be alone, eat alone, always
hungry, always cold, no emotions,
feeling nothing but the air between
my thighs, the downy hair along my
arms, the weight of my body as I
curled up in a ball, the weight of my
shadow becoming smaller, smaller,
my life, my mind, my sickness—
I can’t think — it’s all become
so small.

I wonder if my casket
will be small.

Empty. Cold.

                           ­         Everything.

But it was when you stole
my love for words,
that I truly hated you.
Recovery = life. A discovery I'm making recently . . . :)
Still on the journey to loving writing again . . .
melody Sep 2018
wake up, it's September again
time to love my friends and make amends with myself
i'm trying to gain altruistic ecstasy through things aside from wealth
from my hands i will rise and from my mind i will provide
i'm uncovering the distant parts of my heart that i let die
i'm an optimist with experience and i hope you don't ask why
a mischievous gust of wind sets my sails to another try
opened eyes and ears, surpassing over thought fears
i'm finally remembering how to get here
lost maps and closed hands
i’m opening up and lifting my head
contemplating this moment and releasing the dread
light fills me up and i can't come down
i wake up once again, only this time i'm found
Already on this momentum
Seeking another revival
Don't care much about the rivals
Looking forward to the arrivals
Please follow the bibles
That we're providing
You got to be cognizant of the horse you're riding
To get here, to make a mark
If you want to sing like a Lark
You got to be caring of your performance
This window of opportunity is enormous
You got to mitigate the dormice
To know who's truly there
Too many are in a sad state of affairs
I got my goals in the crosshairs
Forget harping on the job fairs
I want to throw my influence in the air
See if you can even catch it
Working tirelessly, trying to match it
Don't leave any cracks, bury the hatchet
It looks to me that this is sloppy and ratchet
Laugh it off, zero attachment
I'll explain my dfetatchment
But first you got to understand
Despite not being from the same land
We have to be on the same ground
I've taken despair by the pound
Way too animals left there
If you truly care
About your art
To alleviate the tension and not fall apart
You need to be focused
Strong and cohesive
Try to be adhesive
Pick up those pieces
Vacate to your beaches
Make sure you bring your breeches
So you can start your speeches
Of verse
Over again, rehearse
Seeing the world in obverse
Verbally amerse
Playing the fair central
Be astute with the pencil
Utilize that utensil
To bend your will
Creating the chill
Among the audience
You have to have the skill of clairaudience
To truly make things work
Not only do you have to ravage, you have to merk
Never wipe off that smerk
So you can avoid being a mere clerk
At some ordinary place
You got to respect every face
Keep an open mind on the preface
Life's not a race
Emotions can be beautiful or pure mace
Working hard to not be a disgrace
Is amicable
That's what should be predicatable
But it isn't
We've fallen so deep
You hardly hear a peep
About the best ones
Until they're gone
Showcasing the swans
At this funeral
How many numerals
Do we have to witness
To puncture through this
And call death to seal it with a kiss
There's a heavy mist
When the arms are scarred along with the wrists
From short-term problems
We try so hard to solve them
Mentally ignore, block them
While life has no problem stocking them
You're your own gem
Whether you believe it or not
I hate to let my work rot
Into unproductivity
Practicing better civility
Is what will help us thrive
Eagerly survive
Is much I try to revive
People from theirs issues
Keep in mind those scar tissues
Should be history
Not only in the class
Don't be afraid to look back, just avoid the rehash.
melody Sep 2018
the tip of the needle
sometimes it stings
but you have to get to a point where you can’t let it hurt you anymore
a breath of fresh air tastes like there’s more
more to this life
i know it’s there wallowing in the corners of my consciousness
in a place where change is the only constant
i grip it and hold it close
it’s the only thing you can healthily overdose
each new experience hopefully helps me steer clear of an old one
i forgot how to remember
memories aren’t dire to me anymore
today is enough to hold dear
you already lost by trying to hate me
this new life of mine
i’m still trying to get the hang of it
i know i’ll reap what i sow
but that’s the point of letting go
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