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Even before
My feet hit the floor
I'm short a dollar
And a day late for what's in-store

The past haunts,
The future taunts
Leaving one to be the sorry,
Lowly, lonely,
Monkey in the middle amongst the what-nots
I'm not a fan of this short story of hollow dots and vague plots
One man's constant nightmarish thoughts
Are anothers breaking point spots

Piotr B 3d
We have to goodbye our beloved island,
invaded by barbaric tribes.
For we can't change and leave alone
the crying children of thousand lights.
my life without you, your life without me
the saddest, worst kind of life that would be
my girlfriend i love so much
Zack Ripley Jul 14
Of all the things I've lost
and all the things I've gained,
I've found the most meaning
in the things that remain
Sari Sups Jul 14
radio radio radio
running running gone
playing drums, playing hits
i dont recognize a song

typing writing rhyming
my hands shake and curl
carrying notes on my phone
nothing heavier than words

wait wait wait maybe —
my voice caught in my chest
nothing beats the weight
of the words left unsaid
wrote this in my notes thought it was very bittersweet
You can't write the word "fight" while fighting someone-using a pen against them while they fought using a pencil! Even if you have a piece of paper in the other hand.

What would happen if someone figured out how to? Well, the pen could never be able to avenge itself unless it somehow found a way to "write" back...

One question, though, before you go: would the pencil's wits be sharpened during the battle?
It's gonna make sense! Thought I would do poetic war with this one. What you think?
neth jones Jun 29
seeds fluff the air
agents of a nuisance **** ;
                              'the city' warns

faded ladybirds thrive
aggressors from a foreign land ;
                               'the city' warns
J J Jun 28
I’m so glad that we met and I’m so glad it’s over
I miss you so much and I’m so glad it’s over

In the end you hate me O well it’s over.
End of another piece.

“Over my shoulder
           goes another one…
Over my shoulder
            i guess they’ll never learn…”
neth jones Jun 25

our collusion                        
lamplight to sunlight
                    our conclusion

our collision                        
boom-town to ghost-town
                    our concussion

our discussion                     
   overnight did mushroom
   but     by the morning light  
                      ceded the fight

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