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Zack Ripley Aug 20
Close your eyes. Take a breath.
The pain you feel, the grief,
Won't be the death of you.
Because you've had this pain before.
And even though you're still sore,
There are still people
You need to be there for.
Who will be there for you.
alexis Aug 19
the days seem colder without you,
i guess you’re a memory
that will never fade,
your touch hollows me out
and leaves me cold and sore
19 août 2020
6:48 pm
maria Jun 17
Hate to admit it
I still think of you;
It's not my fault tho
You are the one
who comes and goes
you don't even know what for.
And I,
I'm telling myself
not to fall
and to forget
I'm almost convinced
that I'm done
You make me
all at once
and sore
I'm tired of people who don't know what they want. Be sure or not come back at all.
(not in this place right now but felt like this a while ago. Almost 2 months later I'm done and feels great to close doors)

Written on May 4, 2020
Fheyra May 25
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.

Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.

Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****—
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.

The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?

Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..

Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!

Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..

They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
There are outrageous things they do to feed themselves in scarcity. They have morals, but alongisde, they need to stay alive.
Eva May 25
feels like a drug
rushing through my veins.
And I'm addicted.
My name is Sora Sore.
I can't take it anymore.
My eyes are drowning deep.
I couldn't get no sleep.
My neck is in a knot.
And it hurts a lot.

I'm too messed up like my mattress.
But I can play a role, I'm an actress.
And I like it, it's not an act when I'm in it.
Especially when I sing it.

But it burns on my head.
Every day and night in bed.
I've been hanging around like a zombie.
A living dead combi.
I can't take it no more.
I am Sora and I am so so so sore.

Wearing my body.
Wearing it out completely.
I carry it to my grave.
Tossing it through another wave.

Please don't judge me for getting affected.
For being on this earth but not really connected.
Laying inbetween too worlds and painful sensations.
The creatures poking at my skin, the latest manifestations.

The earth can have my body back.
I'm am Sora and I crack.
I'm a zombie.
A living dead combi.

I'm ok.
Just another day.
I'm Sora Sore.
Just a little bit more.
Sora Sore.
Until I'm not there no more.
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.
A Jan 15
I will make new stories
I must
The old ones are getting sore and stretched out and I refuse to let this be all, to let this be it.
maddie Dec 2019
words that leave you feeling sore
are as simple as
"I don't love you anymore"
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