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md-writer 23h
I set about to write a sad, sad story,
a tale to tear the hardest hearts of men;
but as I looked about for inspiration -
reaching here, prying there,
and rummaging through
all the wrinkled sorrows that have been -
I saw here and there a twinkle
throwing back my candle's light.

At first I wondered at this
and wandered toward those stars,
for what did light refracted have to tell
about our scars?
But as I bent to listen to the whispers of that dream,
I saw my dim reflection in a
shattered glassy gleam.

Mirror broken on the floor,
am I truly the most sorrowful
of all?
Been feeling kind of lonely.
As these days go by.
Been trapped in my feelings.
Heart's locked behind my mind.
Can you see the shadows?
Carressing my skin.
I see the fire rising.
And the clouds rolling in.

I'm just a ****.
But honestly thats just fine.
I lost myself.
Somewhere along the line.
I tried to go back.
To right my wrongs.
I tried to go back.
But the pains too strong.

Why do I have to endure it?
Why do I have to burden it?
The devil's got my strings.
Why won't this pain just go?
My life is not my own...
The devil's got my strings.
One of the darkest things I've probably ever written. I hope you all enjoy it! (: im experimenting different kinds of things! Please let me know your thoughts
Laiza A 1d
A dreary gray fills the sky with a sombre mood
Like ash sprawling in the air in a manner of crude
A coronation begins, for the foul, not good
Mockery fills the room as a man sits in ****

His skin filled with fresh bruises and blisters alike;
His eyes painted with tremor, etched within his psyche
Upon his head sat, a diadem of sharp pike
Its needles slithering through his forehead in hike,

Puncturing his once soft skin; warm blood trickles down
Escorting his pains were the digging of the crown
It continues, wrapping his head like a long gown
For a king, adorned with a frown: a thorny crown.

Among the men, they bring out a coat of blood anew
Draped on shoulders, blood meets blood; the searing pain grew
A contempt shroud lingers, a call begins to brew
"Hail the King!" they chant, "Hail Jesus, the King of all  Jew!"
This is a poem written to depict what happened before The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ, meaning it describes one of the unauthorized torturing towards him and how sorrowful it is.

(I am not a religious person, I merely wrote something that is associated with Christ and his history.)
Antares 1d
As he smiles,
he screams out
nails bleeding, arms flailing.
Sky raining, field a blur of heathers.

Wind howling, Bricks failing
Sights that forever bleed
A deep shade of black,
devouring the landscape.
A sight so common.

As he drinks away,
A hearty laugh that has already ended.
Take one
Take  ̶o̶n̶e̶  more
The sweetness of candy beneath his tongue, how they silence his cries.

He slips into a fitful nightmare.
A casket that awaits,
the express train that marked him.
those... Parents and their bleeding hearts.
A shout that frames their sorrow.
A cold, that ever shivers.

As he walks away
a lion striding along the weak
their paws battered,
manes cut and torn off
eyes gouged and yet the glint of steel.
Adorned forever more.

He stops and runs back
A thunderclap cry that runs towards him,
smothers him
A scar crushes his ribs with a heavy dent.
Breathe in...

Breathe out!!!

As he sleeps,
heavy, a toss or turn, a common sign.
An IV drip to his side,
candies of blue, white and red.
A staining crimson sentence.

A deathly silence takes him.
A bullet to the head is what saved him...
I think I've reached a new level of what the **** have I just written.
Thought I try writing something for Halloween.
This one got really dark quickly but... Poems are poems.
Camryn 1d
I'm shattered to pieces,
I'm always in pain,
And I'm not sure,
If I'm still sane.

I can't hear noise,
I can't speak,
I can't move,
from feeling so weak.

So I lie here,
Never to be woken,
In sorrow and pain,
because I am broken.
Do you ever feel asthmatic?

Not in a physical way but a mental one.

Like the lungs of your heart are bursting with air but you still can't breathe.
Like you have a lot to say but no words to put it in.
Like you want to pull your hair and scratch your skin but all you can do is stare.

Do you clench your fists hard then? And grit your teeth harder?

Do you feel your eyes popping out of their sockets?

Do you get goosebumps then?

Because, I do.

Almost too often.

Call me when I’m dead,
Don’t wonder how I’m doing, wonder what killed me instead.

Ask me if everything is okay,
When I’m not around to smile my way out of the conversation everyday.

Shake your head,
Regret my death,
Think of all the ways you could’ve saved my breath.

Shed a tear,
One here and a few more there,
Wonder why I frantically cut my hair.

Know that I’m dying everyday,
More and beyond the usual death you fear.

It's starting to make much more sense now.

All the songs you sent at 1 am, the ones I never even bothered opening because I was too busy.

Your obsession with art that portrayed nothing but death and destruction.

Your jokes about killing yourself that we passed off as “ dark humour “.

You drifting away in your own world and us seeing that as just another one of your phases.

Your constant last minute change of plans and “ you guys go ahead. I don’t feel like it. “

All those times we asked you how you were and all those curt ‘I am fine’s that never made us ask further.

It all makes much more sense now.

Now that you’re gone.  

I still hate how the sky bathes in a burning hue,
all shades of red on a canvas of blue,
I hate how it makes my stomach churn,
my eyes burn,
all the while reminding me of you.

-A poem to the guy who explored my body and killed my soul,
while I begged for him to let go,
on a sunset, I'll forever know.


why do you follow me dog
why will you not let me be
you belonged to her

but she is gone

you know this is so
don't you dog

I see it in your eyes
the sadness there
sadness I recognize

the sorrow pressing in
as these night winds stir
darkness pressing in

but she's gone boy
lost into that lightless realm
beyond this chill encircling us

you shiver
you feel it too
don't you boy

but I've no emotion here
save grief
as is buried in your whimpering

I've no good comfort here
but come
come here boy
that's a good dog

I know
I know
me too boy

oh gawd
me too


rob kistner © 2018
On the sorrowful comradery of sharing grief with your new best friend.
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