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Panda 2d
As a grape I was in shock

As a pear I was enraged

As an apple I was embarrassed

As a grapefruit I was ashamed

As a pineapple I was depressed

As a watermelon I was a mess

But when he came out a babe, things fell into place

Away fled the shame as love took its place
Ezra, born 9/10/2018
I guess this is how life was meant to be but no longer can I sit and do nothing when I see all suffering that going on In
world
Want to tell people of the world stop this, end this
the suffering of the most vulnerable of our society
the harshness cruelty they face every day of there lives
The people who have  suffered too much too long I say all these politicians open your eyes to what Is all around look at the suffering you've caused to so many
people
those who voted you In the
ones you've turned your back on that were foolish to believe your false words
empty promises
I do not know how politicians can sleep at night Its beyond me there will always place In my heart for all
those suffering bless them all and one day there will be reckoning for all those who have caused so much suffering that day will come and they
answer
Written to let those who are suffering no they are not alone
not all of us are blind to what's going on not all of us turn our backs, shame on those that do
All I can do and all I can say
is I’m sorry for making you feel this way.
Angry, annoyed, “Will she ever get the hint?
There’s no chance I’ll love her, not even a glint.”

Best I can tell you is I know I’m the beast
who embarrassed herself until she finally ceased.
Battling emotions said there might be a chance,
while the other side knew this was only a trance.

Conversations commenced, started by just one side
and I bet you couldn’t wait until all of them died.
Calling myself out is all I can do
because now I’m too ashamed to apologize to you.

Don’t even worry, I know I did wrong.
Somehow I managed to string myself along.
Denial was in me, thanks to all of your smiles.
Now my dignity’s laying in tatters and piles.

Every time I think about how I once was,
I start to feel an uncomfortable buzz.
Endlessly tormented by my very own actions,
I’ve no one else to blame for my dissatisfactions.

“**** me,” I say. “**** my dumb, ****** brain.”
I am the source of my sorrow and pain.
For all that I’ve said and for all that I’ve done,
I wish there was one time I actually won.

Going, going, gone. I got out of some’s life.
Now I’m not here to cause you more strife.
Grateful, I am, that some still call me friend,
that you still care enough not to let it all end.

Happy, you are, that my flirting disappeared,
thankful this uncomfortable fog has now cleared.
Hoping if you read this you won’t be upset,
but for me it’s so hard to just stop and forget.

I want you to know that I bear no ill will,
for it’s me that I’m angry with. Always. Still.
I look at the night sky and see that it’s starry
and I just want to tell you that I am so sorry.
Because I'm the poster child for unrequited love.
Brad post Jan 15
I’ve held onto this too long,
and it’s killing me inside.
The self-entitled *******,
that we selfishly call pride.

My every waking moment,
every irrational thought,
every time that I blamed others,
for what my decisions brought.

Ya I have a problem,
and everyone’s seen,
but that is no excuse,
for the way that I have been.

I’ve been a harborer of hate,
till my cup overflowed.
I invited **** in,
and if you knew me then it showed.

I shut myself off,
and told myself that no one cares.
I stopped worrying bout others,
and stayed out of their affairs.

I was selfish, and ******,
thinking only of me,
till the poison turned inwards,
on the me I used to be.

I’ve never hated someone,
so much as what I’d become.
The hypocritical *******,
of all that I’d done.

I know it might be too late,
but I still have to try,
because if the poison remains,
then I’m going to die.

I can finally see clearly,
and maybe that’s fate.
Either way I’ll find out,
so goodbye hate.
Eyes flutter while heads pound,
Memories come flooding in,
Someone else in the bed,
Soft smirks, asking how it was,
How what was?
Heart and head pounds,
Memories go blank,
Except small struggles,
Soft drunken no's, that go unheard,
Still touching, no stopping, please stop,
Blank,
Enough, smile,
It was good, it had to be,
Small nagging feelings,
Ignore, ignore, go away,
Nothing happened,
Everything stills,
Voices heard, but not recognised,
Shapes and shadows,
Nothing real, nothing happened,
Silent screams, as the world moves,
World moving, but I am not moving with it.
Acina Joy Jan 11
Where there is thunder that reigns
down the emptiness of your flesh,
in a war hidden and filled with apathy,
to sink behind darkness , once named shame.

There it is, the torn kingdom,
that you've claimed as your body.
The temple which you've loved,
but never cared for in those aeons of silence.

Where you pretended that doing nothing
would solve everything
.

And so you weep, for the unfairness of it all,
as you claw at your already mangled flesh,
and press for the warmth of your heart.
Pretend that the rush of blood is a rolling blanket.

You swallow those shards of glass, and emulate the heavens,
and pretend your body with jagged scars
is the place for honourable heroes; pretend your triumph
in this barren, damp land of storms
is the place where thunder always reigns.

A place for heroes who never won, but died in their place.
a poem that is a bit analytical of people who are apathetic to their problems in life; who let themselves get hurt, and pretend to care for themselves by doing nothing, believing just weeping and feeling sad can solve the pain in your life; people who are apathetic, and still persist to hurt themselves (both literally and not).
Fingertip
dipped
in white
powder,

My visage
drawn
with black
grease paint,

Who am I now?
Have I been the same?
What validity is there
to your lover's claims?

I've become the goblin king,
so who am I to want to heal myself,
when my self and its persistent sick
continue to do their poisoning?

Buck *****,
drenched
with sweat,
dancing.

My brain
quenched
by my
purpose.

Move and move.
Strike, tow, bend,
twist, and snake the lines.

There's a truth beneath the truth
that first surfaces, the truth as it exists
without a spin from prying minds.

To obscure the err to serve the ego
splits your merger with heavy veils.

Have you no shame?
I must know shame,
and accept shame's
innate dark side,

where shame is fruitless.
Deb Jones May 2018
I thought I forgave you.
I told you I did.

I meant it at the time.
Or thought I spoke the truth.

How casually you mentioned it
In the dark, drinking a beer.

“Remember when we were kids
You said “That’s how kids are”

“Besides” you said.
“It was only touching”

That continued even when
You were home after boot camp

I felt hot in the dark
I thought I had been stamped

Signed, sealed. Validated.
But it wasn’t enough.

You took something that shaped me.
And made it sound like crumbs.

Casually brushed away.
In an adult voice filled with scorn

Minimized.
Justified?

You were 15.
I was 10

Then I was 14
And you were 19

A beautiful boy- man
Loved and admired by all

I know you tried with our sisters.
They all told you no.

I never thought to say no.
Always pretending I was asleep.

Because of your shame
You hated me. I was a pariah.

You didn’t have the willpower
To stop yourself

See, brother of mine.
See how you shaped me?

Now I am an adult
And one of the hats I wear

Is as a **** Crisis counselor
Holding hands in the Emergency Room

During the **** kit examination

Of girls and women
That were ***** or molested in various ways

Various ways.....
With different words to describe what happened

Even different body parts.
How do we treat a young girl

That doesn’t even know
The word ******?

Who thinks that she was ***** where she pees.

For myself?
I did forgive you.

I put a letter in your coffin
You were Thirty-three
I was Twenty-eight

Faulty pistol, bled out,
Two hour wait for the ambulance.

Your head cradled by a woman
Who soothed and comforted you

Surrounded by our father
And dozens of your friends

I forgave you finally.
Completely.

I never stopped loving you.
Is that worth saying?

Why does death feel like
We have to whitewash the truth
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