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Claire Jul 2020
The thorny rose that no one liked;
It lacked a petal and had a thousand spikes.
The thorns that grew from its roots to leaves
Kept the people from touching it.
But, this thorny rose once had no thorns at all;
It just lacked a single petal, tho,
This was enough for it be alone
And cursed by all, oh, so much woe.
So, she cried a million tears
Which soon grew as thorns and nasty leaves.
Now no one gives it a second glance,
But it doesn't really need anyone's touch.
Poetic T Apr 2020
Some are like caged hens
banging there heads on the
        metal metaphors of desperations.

Non confirmative to the needs of seclusion,
as they were once free range.
           The eggs of doubt and walking in
secluded circles,
                 can drive one to
or even to the moment of silence.

We all are meant to be free range,
             and now were battery hens,

running out of charge..
Kailey Jones Apr 2020
His name is Carter
And he’s all alone
In school
At home
Even on the bus because
no one sits next to him,

(But I’ve made an attempt
To be his friend
But I can’t break free of the honesty
That he is extremely annoying
So I will leave him to himself
Whenever I can)

One day his bag was extra heavy
And I could see it
But I did not ask about it
To not let out the brutal honesty
At the end
That I really did not care
Except my mind went there
Courtesy of the news
And I looked at the shape
Which wasn’t outlined as a rifle
So I looked the other way without paying attention anymore
And when I knew my safety was not compromised
I did not care about why it was so heavy

I stood behind him in line when
His bag bumped against me and
I pushed it out of my face because
What a nuisance!

He turned around looking annoyed
and quite frankly I did not care about his feelings
The rest got carried away. Not real. Based on a real person but not a real story.  Part one.
Jake Welsh Apr 2020
reassuring taps of gentle footsteps upon marble
lightly echo through the clean air and fluorescent lights

a step past one door, warmth encompasses me
comfortable space, people in this town are few and far between

stop a moment, think
before another door. enter

to a ceiling much too low
so much i have to tilt my head to avoid it
there are urinals along the right-side wall
Eve is standing before one, just to look
a shifting glance, attention is brought to me

my angled eyes set at Eve’s level

maybe this way i can see
why the fleeting phantoms stay just long enough for our eyes to meet
now here's a topical poem about distance between people
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
I've been in the rain
I've given others my time
time lost to the chance that being in the open would make me feel as so
would tan my pale demeanor
give my loneliness something to hold
turn my fear to boon

I now hold that that is not the case
for true nature is always an honest monster
how could I be so naive?
was it not the cruel world's air that sent me into hiding?

I should return to my dark comfort
my cave of paranoia
the only friend that always welcomes me
understands my need to be alone
to be fragile in a safe cell
guarded, protected
a perfect excuse
my reason to be recluse
le fey Dec 2019
O' which seals from me
The torment of thy thoughts –
Thoughts not meant to enter me
But sensed in mists of spheres.

In solitude
I'm dwelling hence
For'a hermit doth not lure the cold –
The thrusting cold o'that which
Is plaguing the foresaken.

Solitude, then to me
Is to radiate that ease –
That ease swaning circular and gracefully
on the calms of the Hydriads' waters.
A Simillacrum Sep 2019
May take a bit to come down from seclusion.
Climbing for a gain, knew what I was losing.
It's on the T that time is balanced,
and I've seen it cemented.
It's on the scene with all the extras,
and I've seen myself in the crowd.
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
My thorns turn blunt
My shields let arrows through
My life-risking stunt has left me life-still too
The echo comes from muttered den
The day's too violent
To youth that be I shout "Plague me again, miscreant"
The cave's ajar
The wounds are fresh
The head spins, body scarred
Treacle of death
The cold that swallowed me
It burns the soul that's spent
To love that reaching tries I shout "Plague me again, miscreant"
This was supposed to be a longer song lyrics, but I don't have the means of recording or any instrumental skill, so I gave up on that.
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