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Daniel Mashburn Sep 2014
We sat in half lit empty corners in the basements of friends' houses
Wondering where these thoughts would take us, but they only brought me down
I feel an emptiness now, I felt that same emptiness then
We sang of all our petty anger that we thought would never end

But see, I've shouted out from rooftops, and at the top of my lungs
Spitting blood and venom from the most poisonous of tongues
We felt our sudden death encroaching, felt it pushing us aside
Dragging us by our wrist, and setting love on fire

We're burning down the lie we've been believing that we're never burning out

We're breaking bones, but we're not dying, breaking hearts but we're not crying
Breaking down, we're breaking out, we're breaking free from our desires We're ******* up, we're getting ******, but I know we're not giving up
Not giving in, we're spitting in the face of faith, love and denial

We were waiting for a life time for a life well worth our time
But all we found were shades of gray in the corners of our minds
And so we hung ourselves from nooses as we were falling from the stars Crying out to heaven, screaming, “God, here we are.”

But I could swear He wasn't listening, I could swear He wasn't there
I was left quietly alone, alone in my despair

And so the prayers: they turned to silence, and that silence turned to anger
And my anger wore a bitter heart, and my bitter heart wore all my anger
So I fell away from hoping, and all my friends were strangers
And I knew that I was empty, and so stopped looking for the answers
Tiffany Nelson May 2014
I was told my wings would sprout at the right time, when I needed them the most. I keep leaping off balconies and rooftops, hoping that they will spring out of my spine. I have broken bones hoping, but once fractures heal I jump again. Disappointment never felt this good.
Liz Apr 2014
Cinnamon peppers
the rooftops in December
and the shattered
whispers over the hills.

It makes you sneeze
and your fingers
freeze
which causes
evermore solace
with the warming fumes
of myrrh.

The bubbles
which circle the edge
of your tea, darling,
pop on your nose
as the steam rises

we sit in rose,
while outside
the horizon is smudged
with ash, and coal
and dirt.
one of my favorite poems that I have written :)

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