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Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
The harbor where my heart rests
Faintly beating with the ripples of the waves

I stood amongst the pebble with an anchor around my neck
One glance over the dark surface made me cower

The impenetrable veil of the ocean is not my friend
But its cold embrace warmed my heart

For when the wind blows the sails pass
For when the gulls hover over the piers

I closed my eyes and took a dive
And nobody ever saw me again

But when the sea howled my name, I came to rest
Tiny paper boats cluttering around the remains

That was not me...

                             ...not anymore

As I glanced at the anchor that was chained to the hulls
For the current has freed me from my noose

As time smiles, it leaves
For when it frowns, it concedes

And I dipped my toes in the sand
trinity Nov 2017
i hate her.
i hate the way she talks,
the way it's always the wrong thing,
the way her voice is always uneven.
i hate the way she slouches;
is it apathy she feels, or the weight of the world?
she can never seem to decide.
i hate that she isn't smarter,
that she isn't calmer,
that she isn't motivated,
that she isn't kind.
i hate that she trusts too much or too little.
i hate that she makes everything a big deal.
i hate her fickleness.
i hate her anger that she has no right to feel,
and the sadness she doesn't understand,
and her stupid ticks
and stupid fights
and stupid feelings.
i hate that she likes feeling sad
just to feel anything at all.
i hate her cliche words.
i hate her clumsiness.
i hate that she loves attention.
i hate that she tries to drag everyone into her problems,
ignoring the way they're hurting,
in some sort of warped cry for help.
i hate that she likes the way fire feels against her skin,
but most of all,
i hate that she can still face herself in the mirror day after day.
turns out i cant go long without writing about myself! sorry
Vulpes Nov 2017
We are nothing but an empty shell,
Filling our voids with warm things to feel alive,
A composition of ravished corpses of once
Living beings that will warm our dead inside.

We are nothing but animals,
Playing human every day, faking empathy and emotion,
Playing God every day, ravaging and killing our host,
Beautiful lands left with nothing but corruption.

We are nothing but greed,
A broken people cutting their skin with green paper,
Pretending this is what true happiness means,
Killing each other for the bliss of coins.

Desperately fighting my rotten ego,
I pour blood into this empty vessel, the cage of my soul,
The core of a virus pretending to live righteously,
Yet I know that this version of me is indifferent.
A parasite.
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
If I were different
Would the sky shelter me
Would the clouds
Cover my head

If I were different
Would nature accept me
Would it nurture me
A thorny embrace

Thoughts cascading
Internally
And I wish that
Hopefully

If I were different
Would you still love me?
What is... perfection?
Samantha Symonds Oct 2017
Golden brown or yellow livered
a field of blows await
Spring to be delivered
as waters turn from
snow to dew
Your yellow crown peeks and pushes through
over summer's flowers bloomed too soon
underneath Your shadow wilt and swoon
as long as roots can drink their fill
remain reflecting in Your windowsill
Echoing I'm your Daffodil
Meg B Oct 2017
SOS
Why is it so hard for me to love myself?
Things that I see in others
I see with such admiration,
but when I see myself,
it's as if I've become blind.
What I know of so surely as good
is somehow bad as it pertains to me,
and what I recognize as existing in someone else
suddenly becomes unrecognizable within myself.
I focus so earnestly on my feelings for you
and for them
and for everything, everyone, every cause around me;
so, then, why don't I focus on the same
for myself?
How easily can I tell
a woman abused that it wasn't her fault,
that she should bare no shame,
yet somehow, all the absuse that I suffered,
I was the cause, I am to blame.
I know they say, whoever they is,
that you can't love anyone till you love yourself,
but most days I feel I love everyone
except for myself.
And it's truly strange,
because it seems to come in waves,
and now that I'm toying with the idea of
loving again,
I am struggling to wade in the riptide.
I can't drown in you if I can't stay afloat,
I can't swim with you until I find myself
(a life boat).
Shukorina Sep 2017
The word potential is one of self sabotage.
It is dedicated to those unable to put their dreams to work.
Potential is a word given to the indicated who are poised to have talent but no drive, ambition but no discipline.
Potential is given to the abundant group of people who are able to breathe but never live life.
Potential.
A word made to create your grave before you've died.
I haven't figured out how to stay away from the trap.
However, a promise to myself is that I will do more then breathe.
Shukorina Sep 2017
In the pit of every person, there is a child.
Each child is different.
Some beg to be loved, some beg to alone, some so timid they know not of speaking, let alone the art of begging.
It is undeniable however, that we each have one that lives in us forever.
A child that we groom, prime or contort depending on our conviction, so that we become unrecognizable as we grow into adulthood.
NA Jun 2017
Dirt under my nails
From trying to bail
out on reality
The night before.
Shakes, spins, sweats,
and I can't wrap my head
around the kind of self sabotage this is. If it's not helping me, it's hurting me.
If you're ignoring me,
don't think I won't leave
because I will.
My footsteps are heavy
and slow;
steady
I know.
but I have come a long way
plenty of suns before.
there is no way to go
that is too far.
no companion
that tries too hard
And nothing that grounds me more,
Than love.
Hong Denice Jun 2017
Chasing your dreams does not mean leaving behind your morally right and christlike values, character, behaviour, people and the most heart breaking is putting God aside. No matter what you believe He exists or not....You will have to take responsibilities of your mistakes or the better word sins.    Mistakes are mistakes and sins are sins  Those are two different things.
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