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Demonized Angels Nov 2014
The pain is strong
I am not
It has control
I do not
It fills through me
I sit and wait
It is cancer
I am me
It has control
I cannot fight it
It has won
I have lost
So long and goodnight
DarkSkies started this poem but was not able to finish it and me being the great friend I am decided I would share it with you guys. She doesn't post much because this is her reality. I hope y'all understand. Thankyou~Jinxx
Aubrey Lambert Oct 2014
The boxcars empty and the track dead ends
But they'll be selling tickets til the world ends
Gold dust and lies
Glittered dust and lies

You've got your visions but your feet our on the ground
You're gonna wander this whole big world around
Chasing the skies
Always chasing the skies

Saddle up, hit 'em up
Take to the skies
Ain't no make can catch you
but believe me boy they'll try
axr Oct 2014
I hear thunder
No you don't,
The voices in your head
want some more

You're lying!
I am aware of my blunders.
I can hear thunder!
No,  you can't
you're just deaf
and without a plan

You're just inviting trouble
Everyone is trying to hurt me.
My only defence is the thunder
I hear it. I feel it. Zeus loves me.
Mountains tremble in fear.
He is ready with his bolt.
It's a message
you don't see it
yet
but when thunder shakes the ground
you shall hold your breath.
Talk about Hermes, Apollo
and everyone else.
The thunder shall do us no harm.
Olympus was never safe.
Aphrodite knows how to sell her body
There will be war, my friend.
The titans will rise.
Kronos will escape from Tartarus
and attack in stealth.

You dummkopf,
you have no idea what you have been talking
Don't argue over Father of God's bolt!
God of the skies.
Traveling by air? You might die.
Poseidon can make your way back difficult
This behaviour of yours was very typical.
*You ignore your mind when it plays tricks on you
Oh dear, you really are a fool
I have no idea why I wrote this. Greek mythology obsession perhaps
Dummkopf means stupid head in German.
Isha Kumar Oct 2014
Let my heart burn
a brilliant light.
Let the world see
the fire's golden might.

Let my heart escape
the shallow empty cries.
Let the world watch
my heart soar the skies.

Let my heart feel
the gentle rain of life.
Let the world witness
the end of all strife.

Let my heart burn
a brilliant light.
Let the world see
my heart glowing bright.
I wrote this when I was upset. I'm surprised it turned out this way. Though...there is something missing...isn't there?
Isha Kumar Oct 2014
The day we met,
the leaves were red.
"Nice to meet you"
that's what you said.

Our simple conversations
and you're witty replies.
I made you my friend
because of the twinkle in your eyes.

The day we became closer
the red leaves had vanished.
The barriers surrounding us
they had been vanquished.

Together we laughed,
and I was in awe.
Our meeting was a blessing
that' s all I saw.

The day I called you my sister
the leaves had turned green.
I wondered, all my life,
just where had you been?

We talked and talked
until we could no more.
We could never part
I was so sure.

The leaves turned red
when the sad news crept.
I had to leave
and my heart wept.

Then came the day
when we said goodbye.
Though my lips smiled,
my heart did still cry.

The day I left,
the leaves were dead.
"Please don't go."
That' s what you said.

I promise you this,
we'll meet again someday.
When the leaves are green
and the skies aren't grey.
It's a dedication to one of my very very very very special friend. Thank you for being there for me when I thought I had no one to listen to my cries.
alex Oct 2014
there was a boy with a racecar bed who never liked vanilla, but chocolate instead.

there was a boy who liked to climb trees, who watched cartoons, & ate his peas.

there was a boy who liked to run fast, who was too fearless, who was never in last.

there was a boy with big blue eyes, who liked reading books, & stormy skies.

there was a boy with long brown hair, with a piercing here & pink scar there.

there was a boy with cigarette breath, who liked fast cars, & wrote about death.


there was a boy with a deep glassy stare, who cried at night, because life isn't fair.
© Alexandrea Biggs
svdgrl Oct 2014
Wrapped up with the sky,
He said it speaks to us with words,
in the form of empty storms.
But the clouds don't shower thoughts
they only crowd the morning dew,
and the broken jukebox birds.
The chatter reminds me of my noisy efforts.
There was a time I said little-
"Don't trust the quiet ones."
They are the fools who believe in the blues and the sunsets,
sleep little and dream of promise.
Comfort brought me to speech
to explain the thunderstorms outside my windows
to shake off the dew his clouds
crowded in my chest
and the broken jukebox birds in my throat.
Yesterday he said I smelt like home.
The familiar scent of pillows and cover-
warm things in winter.
Campfire cinders.
Smoldered once in quietude-
burning with desire.
If my lips don't sound-
maybe I can hear the rumble of his clouds.
Maybe I can listen to his blues.
Watch his sunset in smoldering quietude.
Maybe he'll speak to me with words.
Or maybe he'll just rain on me
thoughtlessly.
Moll Oct 2014
Every single day
I'm so fed up of this world
Grey skies over me
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