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SilvarumDea Oct 2020
I just open myself to the pain
Like a rotten wound that never heals
And my cursed soul can never rest,
Consuming itself from within.

My tired eyes have cried so much,
But my silent scream was never heard.
How could I ever think that I could win
On this unfair battlefield which I call life?

The Universe laughs at my stubbornness,
While throwing me back to the ground.
My rotten soul surrenders with a pity song
Searching for what's left of it.
louise hill Apr 2020
When the skies are filled with joyous clouds
Which gallop and leap, like spring bunnies, upon leaving the burrow for the first time.
The sun. The star that lights up the whole planet, and the millions of people which inhabit
Its terrains.
Mother nature had created this wondrous place, for beings and creatures to wilfully survive
Yet we laugh in her face with sweet anguish, as for we are now the creators of land.
We rip out the hearts of our ancient trees, too inform and teach one another of their necessity on our lives.
And our children, the life we leave for them filled with mind numbing absent presence. A life locked inside their own brains or their own devices. Where our social life dictates where on the virtual institution we sit. Hierarchies.
“live your best life” words meant to inspire, meant to warm even the coldest of hearts and teach them to capture the morning sun.
Are now a hashtag trend, which we use to display our fake smiles. Yet the eyes. The eyes harbour the desolation that is entombed within one’s soul.
The blackness. that lives within the skin we don. Our minds have been conditioned to years of mental abuse and slowly ground down. For we are no longer ourselves, to be happy in one’s skin and life is sparsely genuine.
We tend not to recognise our own mind, or it of us. As we are no longer one. And its health is not a priority. Oh, how id long to be a simple daisy. They grin with such elegance.
Our nature ever so consciously unaware of its impending doom. How do we dream to nourish something else when we crave to neglect our own body and mind?

The human brain, the worlds most equipped super computer. Capable of unspeakable triumphs may just one day save us from the terrible place we now call home.
I'm awful with titles so if anyone has any suggestions i'd be very appreciative :)
Melissa Mar 2020
Before I met you, everything was blue.
Now that you are in it, I can't see life without you.
You came along & fixed all my broken pieces.
I was a broken mess, I'm sorry I didn't mean it.
I was a disaster covered with a smile, Alot of situations I acted like a child.
I love you more than I can ever explain, please don't ever leave me, I couldn't deal with the pain.
Tessa Marie Feb 2020
Now I understand why some people are addicted to things like drugs and alcohol. It alters your state of mind and you barely feel pain anymore. It's a way to feel the happiness you've been longing for.
Kent Dec 2019
I carry a demon on my back named Anxiety. He whispers whenever I feel serenity and shouts when hell breaks loose in my world. He gnaws on my flesh and devours my bones; his viscous fangs are my gloomiest thoughts. I stare at the four walls in my room to forget my injuries, but I am still bleeding.

And even if an entire crowd were to witness me and worship me, they wouldn't catch a glimpse of him as he bends and breaks my will to his twisted ways. No one will be my shield; no one will be my spear. I shiver and shudder but it never meets their eyes.

I am battered, broken, and breathless, as his army marches down the ruins of my haven. I hide it all underneath a composed demeanor, but it's just a farce on the verge of falling.

Sleep is my only escape, but even then he lingers in the darkest corners of my neurons. I am smothered by his hands, till my day and face turn blue, and I try to cry out but it's just me and the same four walls.
It's kind of a slam. I hope you guys like itn
SophiaAtlas Dec 2019
She wears her pain
Like an invisible cloak
You will never see it.
Except for in her eyes.
They are blue.
this poem is about myself.
Ol Nov 2019
I do not like to be touched.

I loathe to be felt, like a velvet jacket in a shop.
I cannot stand being man handled, touching my waist to move past me.

But to taste your finger tips against my lips, and your hand against my heart. Was comfort like no other.

To watch your ****** expressions, reacting to television stimulation. As I felt your soft curls in my hand.

I felt full. Whole almost in those moments.

Chasing highs of you.

Chasing away my lows. A race against time between us.

Then falling out of touch became a game.

And now I crave to feel. Anything. Anyone feel me.
Moni Sep 2019
I'm the shadow
Casted by the sun,
Feeling small
As the day's begun.

I watch people
With nameless faces
Go places
With no destination,
No purpose.

I watch them with
Bruised ribcages
And flowers blooming from their arms,
Pretending to be a part
Of the crowd,
Pretending to fit in.

Their hearts are shattered to dust,
But they fix it
With stiches and staples that turned to rust,
Pretending all the pieces fit

Their shirts are filled
With pins and needles,
that poke their skin
Pretending not to notice
The emptiness filling in.

But I stay put.
My shadow is too small to notice,
Too scared to move.
My mind is almost as broken as theirs,
But my door is fully open,
Not pretending.
Moni Sep 2019
I can feel the pain
I haven't felt in a while,
the tears I have yet to shed,
and the aches that don't hurt my heart.
Why is it I feel everything I have not?
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