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Did you
figure out how to feel
I've bled
Into all the colors here

To somehow die alone
I still
Don't understand the throne

The summit's height
To capture
Finally fading light

It's all over
Before its begun
It's all over

Wonder why I can't give a ****
Something in the air's got me ******
I don't know, I just woke up
What can I say?
Stark Nov 24
Rocking your head back and forth
Disbelieving faces stare
As you cry for mercy
Quietly going insane

Dropped through the hole
Feeling nothing at all
As you saw what the world could be
Reality and fantasy kaleidoscoping

When you awoke--
The brightness was gone
Vanished from your mind
And your ideas seemed inconceivable
--to the others

Oh, the others
The disbelievers
The skeptics
The ones that refused to open their mind

Possibility spreads like a tree from a single root
But they are unable to see it
Instead, they dismiss you
Send you to the sanitarium
Where your screams of madness can be heard
Even today

If we don't do evil
Do we have to pray?
Genre: Observational
She is the one
The best species of mankind

I am skeptic,
if she is best for me.
Genre: Observational
Theme: Good for one may not be good for all.
“What made you come here?” I asked
Just to be sure, I’m okey. Here are my recent reports.

“Don’t you have trust over self?” unspoken thought
What is there? Am I all right?
Reviewing the values, do you have doubt? I asked
“Skeptic, if any.” She answered

Let me ask you few questions.
“Do you Smile?”
Yes, I do

“Do you Cry?”
Something when it hurts, I do.

“Now, I can conclude, you are perfectly normal with human sensibility.”
“Those values in your reports will always change.”

Stay calm.
Genre: Clinical
Theme: Everyday Life, Dedicated To All
polka Jan 3
laugh in the face of
sickening doubt
because that doubt
is the one skeptic of your ability
to ever laugh again
Aly Dec 2016
“It’s not real”
“There is nothing wrong with you”
Just a damp floor where I laid for a while
“You don’t have any bruises”

“It’s not real”
“None of your bones are broken”
Only my head is pounding like a drum in an inconsistent beat
“Take some aspirin”

“It’s not real”
“I don’t see any blood”
Can’t move I’m suffocating It cannot stop
“Just go out and taste fresh air”

“It’s not real”
“You’re such an attention seeker”
Only, Its’s cold, the dark wood keeps me company
“Stop Imagining things”

“It’s not real”
“you’re getting annoying”
This tinge of pain will both set us free
“Just stop thinking this way”

The sun kisses goodbye
The cold engulfed the entirety.
We lost another breath.
“She was just over reacting.”
Rachel Morris Sep 2016
I still lift my voice in song
To a *** I no longer believe in
Not for my sake,
but for yours.
I am afraid of your heart breaking in two
When you find out that mine no longer yearns for Jesus.
No longer can I see the sunrise
or enjoy the sunset
A blinding iridescent glow
coruscating in my eyes is all I get
Nothing tastes the way it did before
and music doesn't evoke happiness
I don't feel like living anymore;
life and it's tasteless tackiness
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
Claus, Santa, the
Is a huge enigma to me
And probably many others
My enigmatized sisters and brothers.
Enigmatized, possibly stigmatized,
It beggars logical thought
All the confusion and pain
This concept has brought.

For over two centuries
Surrounded with mysteries
An alternately jovial and evil guy
Brought bounteous gifts, could fly!
Gave coal to the misbehaving,
Or nothing much at all, saving
All the good stuff for good kids
Who were careful with what they did.

We have read of Saint Nick
And Sinterklaas; take your pick
Of which legend blended with what
To become the guy we were taught
Sneaked down chimneys at night
It you kids didn’t sleep tight.
While this is all very typical
It seems rather biblical.

Claus’s eye is on the sparrow
So we must walk the straight and narrow
Or go down into his big naughty book
And he will ultimately decide to look
Askance at any chance of gifts for you
No matter how much begging you do
Write to his eternal rotund self.
He’s an unforgiving old elf.

And there’s that flying reindeer thing
And the way he’s rumored to go zipping
Around the entire blessed world in one night.
That, to me just never seemed quite right.
It’s bizarre and incredible is exactly what.
Do the reindeer have jet engines in their ****?
And how can one tiny sleight and eight beasts
Tote those thousands of truckloads at least?

No, the whole thing sounds bogus, in its base.
And that whole North Pole/tiny people place
Where they ***** on making toys all the year
And thrive on hot chocolate instead of beer?
Elves must be a rather dim gang of workers.
No union leaders? No malingerers? No lurkers?
I have tried for decades, but it doesn’t add up.
There’s too much questionable in this holiday cup.

I’m going back to the idea I thought as a child.
It’s easier to believe and not nearly as wild:
It’s Mom and Dad behind it all, it’s a big lie.
And my final bit of skepticism? I can tell you why.
The kids in my little neighborhood get given
Gifts with no relationship to how they are living.
If all this hogwash were actually true
Bunches of them would get coal too.
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