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Graff1980 Mar 8
There is a fresh hole
on the threshold
of our property,
a perfectly
proper spot
where they
buried me.

Safe distance
from the old quarry,
so my corpse
doesn’t have to worry
about being
disfigured
by the bigger
mess.

What a figure
I make,
flaccid
and undressed
before death.

Nothing there that
would impress
strangers,
other then
the danger
of smelling
my rotting flesh.

So, I am safely stowed
in a small hole
in the property
that I owned
while my killers
ransack my home
in the middle of the night.
Scarlett Jan 10
I live with a tumour of paranoia
haunting my social life
flaring up with small annoyance
in a world of violence and strife
my cautiousness turns to avoidance
and my irrational fear is rationalised
I fear my old demons and yet have a reason to.
Isaac Ward Dec 2018
It was on the train-
When I saw her,
My love, stolen from me,

Broken glass sprinkled,
Like salt in a wound,
And red hot light danced to and fro,

As time crashed down-
With not a pin drop of sound,
I took a step toward her,

She was already dead,
A case of poisoning; lead-
Dark rain for a crinkled dollar or three.
Megan Parson Sep 2018
I once robbed a post-box,
      & looked through letters, small & scented.
Of someone's aunt with chickenpox,
And bills handsome, from the rented.

Love letters, I had to read!
Which in boredom, my mind would feed.
Some which made my heart bleed,
An urge to send, a nervous need.

A good doctor's prescription pill,
& injections, with dread did me fill.
Thankfully illegible, so not my joy to ****.

But now, I must stop,
For reasons purely confidential.
As I catch the Postmans' beaming top,
His light bag filled only with what's essential!
A poem on a crazy idea....
Denny Crow May 2018
I'm shooting for her heart with my finger on the trigger.
Put your heart in the air
Peter Balkus Feb 2018
Someone
has robbed me yesterday,
has stolen my dream
of living in a world
where nothing is fake.

And I can see him,
he is everywhere,
all over the papers,
on the Internet.

I recognize
his innocent face.
And now we're one
Me, myself, and I
A band of three thieves that could never steal
Only lose the hopes that kept them alive
We shan't steal what we can't grab
Just watch others take what we don't own
My craft dies as I grow old
Somehow, I have been robbed of what I never stole
A feeling I've never felt
Taken from right under my nose
A hole dug deeper just so I can wallow
In what I thought I had
When the hole was empty from the beginning
Hand us shovels
But I promise you
I have no plans on digging back up
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