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I see a boy underneath the bin
He prays desperately to a deaf god
Looming over I can smell his despair
Rocking back and forth in holy existence
Your prayer won’t save you now little duckling
Say I to the rat
But on he chants, on and on to gods and clouds and demons
He names them all, one by one endlessly chanting his desperate canon
Where are your gods now?
Do they serve you a merciful end?
I ask as I slash his throat.
Fifty years from now, I may not be the person whom I thought I would be
I may not have served the job I dreamed of having
I may not be living in a house I dreamed of building
I may not be married with the person I am in love with right now
I may not have made peace with the past

But fifty years from now,
I hope,
I have decluttered my mind
I may be old but I will be beautiful
I may not have reached my dreams
But I will remember the moment I wrote this -
I am young and dreaming
I may have let my younger self down
But somehow I know now what my younger self had not known
I may not have traveled the world
But my eyes have seen what my younger self had not yet seen

Fifty years from now, I may not be as alive as I thought I would be
I may be under the ground with a dirge or requiem
Maybe two or three people crying or maybe none
But as that time comes,
May I never forget
That fifty years ago,
I have fought with my whole life.
Someday I will not be the person whom I thought I would be. But I will be exactly the person whom my creator destined me to be.
At The Cafe
I heard her say to the teary-eyed lady
as they sliced their custard creams,
" Move on and go find someone else"
As if suggesting to take that knife and slice
that face out of her brain and replace it with
another. As if perhaps she should cut out
her heart and separate it from the rest of
her. I suppose the thoughtless lady was only
trying to help. I suppose that's normal procedure
in such circumstances. Like quickly go find a
lollipop for god's sake.
I felt like saying to the broken woman;
wait a bit. No need to be in such a rush.
This terrible ache, this fierce wrenching
this oozing sore is love disguised.
You'll come to it. You will. No substitute
That someone else is waiting
in the dim horizon, fresh faced and true
with eyes that pierce through
the mish mash of dough and syrup
of wounds and ruins of love and war
and sharp metal objects.
That someone else is you, whole
and undisguised.
You can't rush that.
You'll come to it
You will.
The sorrow of loss, breakup, the slow journey through the shadow into acceptance. Finding oneself in the midst of despair without trying to find a new fix.
Tammy Cusick Aug 2019
Piercing eyes
pale white gowns,

furrowed brow's
big bright crowns,

horizontal smiles
across floor to ceiling paintings
limp of emotion,

distraught in sepia
color at rest,

mildew in the teeth
callous on the tongue,
nails in the feet
dragging dead weight,

wrapped in burlap
tied in loose ribbon,

clammy cold hands
only for the given,

red in the face
angry with a fist
distraught in the heart,
spliced across the wrist.
JM Romig Aug 2019
Lee was posted up in in usual spot
back by the stacks,
with his phone on life support.
Its umbilical cord was knotted up like a nest,
and held together by electrical tape.

It sat next to his vape
box and a stack of books
about the GED, twenty-fist century
side hustles and back issues of Ebony.

People come in and out of the library
and everyone says hi to Lee,
He is the man to see,
He asks about their lives and gives sage advice –
How you been, my man?
How’s the kids doin’, girl?
How’s married life treatin’ you, my dude?

My man, you gotta do this.
Babygirl, look into that.
Don’t wear your hat like that,
Boy, ya look silly.

Lee lives in a van
that he parks nearby
so he can job-hunt on the free wifi
even when the place is closed.

If you feel sorry for me, don’t
says Lee
I’m the freest now I’ll ever be,
so, don’t you dare take pity on me
I’m doing all I can do,
being all I can be.

Everything’s  temporary.
Tomorrow I could be you,
you could be me
we’re just one bad day,
one scratch-off lottery ticket away
from swapping places, my man.

Yeah, I live in that van
parked outside the library
but if you think I’m sad,
you’re thinking wrong,

Won’t see me moping, or doping
floating along
you won’t see me frowning,
or drowning,
singing a sad song.

I’m happy with all that I got
who wouldn’t wanna be in my spot,
I’m The King
of the Library Parking Lot.
*Disclaimer: Lee is a fictional character. Any resemblance he may have to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Anastasia Jul 2019
Do it
Cut the string
And it
Ruin me
Sever your ties
**** it
Slice at my heartstrings
Destroy my dreams
Massacre the thread
So that you can't put it back together
Make me cry
Want to d i e
That's what you want, isn't it
To ruin me
Stella Jun 2019
I don’t have work
I don’t have school
I have no books to check in or out
Yet still,
you get to sit around
Look at me,
my swollen black circles
under my lifeless eyes

I’m so tired
I see the shy little nerd stacking books again

She’s my kryptonite now
Who knew leather books could be so comfy to lay one’s head?
It’s not cool being awake for over 24 hours driving through the day with coffee. You feel jaded but not in a good way
Cat Lynn May 2019
Part A:
Cut it out
It won't do a thing!

Stop cutting yourself!
You're gaining nothing!

I slice and dice and move my mice
Claw myself with my built-in knives

Screaming and Crying as the blood drains, right?
Scars and wounds keep you up all night!

The alcohol string, do you feel the pain?
It burns and eats the bacteria in your veins

Sometimes the healing aches a lot
So that you learn something and begin to stop!!!

CUT CUT CUT CUT! Can we get enough? ENOUGH!
Trying to live like we wanna get better!
Your linen won't hide your cuts forever

What are you doing your life? LIFE!
Heart pump's blood to keep you live'n
Why can't you accept that you are forgive'n?

Part B
"Hey! What's up? Are you doing alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine! Just had a really bad fight..."

A fight with yourself that you can never win
Using gloves and sleeves to keep your slits hidden.

Do you not see the diamond you are?
Ignore the lies that formed those scars

Your numbness won't just fade away
When your life is mixed in with the gray

Sitting alone in the darkness, blackness
Trying to hide all blood drop messes

CUT CUT CUT CUT! Can we get enough? ENOUGH!
Trying to live like we wanna get better!
Your linen won't hide your cuts forever

What are you doing your life? LIFE!
Heart pump's blood to keep you live'n
Why can't you accept that you are forgive'n?

Part C*
Razor Sharp... It feels just right
Holding on to that blade real tight...
Hidden in the darkness, out of sight...
It is worth the damage it causes? Worth all the lies?
Worth the secret? Worth the hide from the ones who love you with all their might?

Don't you feel their love, His love...

CUT CUT CUT CUT! Can we get enough? ENOUGH!
Trying to live like we wanna get better!
Your linen won't hide your cuts forever

What are you doing your life? LIFE!
Heart pump's blood to keep you live'n
Why can't you accept that you are forgive'n?
Another poem song I hope to write up someday... maybe...
It's a song about cutting and how it never seems to be enough. We can;t just do it once... it's a temptation and a struggle that makes us want to do it again and again...

and we forget about the ones who love us
We forget who we are in our Creator's eyes... and how worthy we are...
MK Tomar Apr 2019
I am a blind man, figuring out this place, a chaos.
So I have told you initially.ok.

Crowded with the utmost fools, to the greatest beings.

From the cunning eyes to the melting hearts.

I am a blind man, so i am taking off, on a walk of discovery.

The past was unknown, and now, the future is a mystery.

Things that I have longed for in the most desperate times,

are there all around, not for me, but far away, 

having an unreachable shine. 

The fake laughs, the unbearable tears just to pull up the sympathy.

The rhetoric webs of the religious nobles, they just can't leave you alone, right?

Apart from being an individual, I am forced to be everything, but a pure human.

In morning a Hindu,
By night it turns into a muslim!

A screamer for nonsense.
Or a debater oozing just garbage.

No. This can't be the real life. These things.

They are not for me; just tease me, with a greedy smile.

A different world.

What a fool am I. Actually yes.

Because, I am a blind man. Not due to my lack of senses,

but since I was looking for the undeserving.

All these years went like a wasting, decaying dead figure.

What an idiot I was, in making a late choice.

It was never about the shine.

It's just a little spark of the ray, that you need.

Not a bag full of over joyful, screaming surprises,

but just a little slice from life.

I 'was' a blind man, doing all this, before the walk.

Not anymore, not now, never and ever.

For i know what i want.


Just a slice of life.

Sadly, it's with me anymore.
Call me, if you find it.
Shofi Ahmed Feb 2019
Far from the light,
you, me, we live inside.
In one's own space
it's a far cry from the sun.

To show up though everyone
needs a slice of the sun.
But except one,
her beauty shines in the dark!
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