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eb Jan 2014
Feeling the earth moving,
movements of the clock ticking.
Each second a century,
Losing her presence daily.

Seeing voices in the air,
Touching smells everywhere.
Slow and steady she must go,
High and fly like the black crow.

Losing against gravity,
No more Ms. high and mighty.
Jumping up against the walls,
There she falls and falls and falls.

"Is this dying?", she whispers.
Her words floating in the skies.
"What is living?", she wondered.
Her once persistent voice faltered.
Don't Exist Apr 2014
Our bodies are borrowed
yes, it is not hard to comprehend
it's not a poetic metaphor
nor is it a intellectual endeavor

our bodies are borrowed...

it might seem strange at first
but then it starts to make sense
but its crazy

our bodies are borrowed...?

Hello, for your whole life you was borrowing something
your soul borrowed the body made from your mother
a mom whole also borrowed her body who sexually interacted with another person with a borrowed body
whose parents created them with borrowed bodies
all the way to the beginning

our bodies are borrowed....!!!????

that means our life is borrowed
our kids are borrowed
our happiness are borrowed
our darkness are borrowed
our ****** activities are borrowed
even our souls are borrowed

our bodies are borrowed??????

Now will you continue this borrowed reality or use your borrowed body to create a world?
a world that doesn't require a borrowed body?
a body of your own?
This poem is kinda shaky. Please comment and don't just ready. Don't be scared.
Mikaila Mar 2014
I reached for you, as drowning people do sometimes, and you recoiled from me, as sane people do much of the time. But think on this: Kind people do not lay blame on those who suffer.
But then again, I do not tend to love kind people.
Akemi Oct 2013
Your neo-soul
With all its bright
Lies atop a hungry corpse
Starved in death
Starved in life
6:19pm, September 30th 2013

This new me
Pretends to be good
But it’s a mere skin
Over a bleeding frame
That has been screaming
"I f*cking want"
Since conception

But I will starve him out.
Ceryn Mar 2014
A sign of desperation
Of envy, of misery, of dejection
Of hopeless yearning for nothing lifelong,
As almost everyone can barely notice.

Worldly desires, oh futility!
Images of true vainglory
Captives of fake reality
Stuck in their reverie
Of exaltation and flattery
Fishing for praises so badly
Insensitively, so unrelentingly
Without a thought or two.

What do you hear? What do you see?

These people sound so thirsty
Of approval and regard and dignity
Capricious predisposition, tomfoolery!

Looking for love and delight
For honor and respect and might
For grandeur and luxury
For anything but worthless beauty,
For a way not to be left behind or aside.
What a surrealistic find!

Amuse me; let the world drool for thee,
But like a century-long malady,
Such an absolutely incurable affliction
It is nothing but merely, purely,
Just as trivial as this poetic entry,
**Vanity.
Carlos Molina Mar 2013
This is the end
you never saw it coming.
Walked your life without looking backwards
without looking sideways
You walked and walked, carefully choosing your steps
while staring relentlessly at the ground,
at your clothes, at the ground again.
Never looking forward.

You forgot what the past was like
The present was a mere blur
You concentrated so much on your ground
you never saw the wall coming.

Now the wall is here.
The end is here.
The future you once so anticipated
has come before time.

Before time...

— The End —