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Kee Nov 4
somehow i had started to bleed
my wrists and their scars were open
pouring into the river
eyes cry red drops of blood
falling down my cheek, lips, and chin
yet i can't feel a thing
if anything the regret lifts from my shoulders and sets me free
but i still feel the little bit of blood stuck in my one side of my heart
that i can never seem to get rid of
and the other half never seems to fill back up
so i wait
and wait
until it's a full river of blood
and
then
i
jump
Alfa Oct 17
I am                  split into
  Two,
People. Speaking up           /or stuck in a box
   and
          I will                         never be(ing)
complete(ly).
me                                      .
Three poems in one that speaks of my confused identity.
Read as: 1) I am split into two people. Speaking up and/or stuck in a box I will never be completely me.
2) I am two people. Speaking up and I will complete me.
3) Split into two, or stuck in a box and never being complete.
I lost my heart sometime ago;
   why did I fall? why did I fail?
It was the whitest of years,
   the darkest of nights;
      why did I run? why did I hide?

I lost my peace sometime ago;
   why did I fight? why did I try?
It was the clearest of skies,
   the cloudiest eyes;
      why did I go? why did I side?

I lost my love sometime ago,
   why did I fly? why did I stay?
It was the longest of flights,
   the sharpest of knives;
      where am I now? where is the tide?
Shofi Ahmed Sep 30
The planet earth is maybe
the material gold dust of all.
But it’s null on what it bases
purely standing on empty space!

Indeed there is no matter
at the base of the matter.
The nano atoms adherent to
natural scientia split and dance
the bottomline is pure blank!

Cosy slim and delicate atom
continues to deep down.
Stripping off to the quark
zooming in yet far inside
much more further down.

Goodness knows how comfy slim
will it be before it touches down
on to the universe smallest layer.
The matter, confined to natural codes,
in search of the smallest building block
turning to be a matter free off the matter.
Ashleigh Sep 23
Why me?,
Why is it always me?,
Everything that goes wrong
it always happens to me.

Everything I touch turns to dust or breaks.
Friendships crumble
Family splits
Slowly everything I care about falls apart.
Is it my fault?

Why can't I be young again I would learn to appreciate my time being careless and having fun.

It's so hard now
breathing expectations
Seeing competition
Living of the hope that one day you'll be more then what people say

Wanting it to all to go away.
I was split into two when I was
six
I met a new me
He would cover up my feelings, his job was to fix.
I was split into three when I was ten
I met a new me
She put up a happier me, her job was to bring back the friends I lost back then.
I was split into four when I was thirteen
I met a new me
He was the smart one, his job was to get me out of troubles that I couldn’t have foreseen.
I was split into five when I was fifteen
I met a new me
He was the aggressive one, his job was to protect me from anything that was mean.
I was split into six when I was sixteen
I met a new me
They were the loving one, their job was to spread excessive love so it would keep me serene.



I was split.
I met a new me
They didn’t know who they were unlike everyone else.
Who am I?
gabriela Sep 1
our hands touched for a split second
but it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days
Annie Aug 25
je ne suis pas là
I'm nowhere
il y a des cordes à chaque extrémité de moi
I suppose I'll feel this forever now
parce que je ne vais jamais couper les cordes
no matter where I am, I will always be far from the other.
Split May 7
Ask me how I am
Text me when you miss me
Ride your bike to my home
And don’t ever let me be alone

Tell me you adore me
Shower me in love
Don’t take me for granted
Be who we’ve always wanted

Kiss me with your words
Hug me when I’m sad
Wipe my tears away
And tell me there’s another way

But before you do all that
We must cross each others paths
Search our street
To make sure that we meet

Yet for the time being
Promise me that you’ll
Love
Care
And respect
The idea of me.
Split May 10
a bean like no other
bitter and white;
a microscopic dynamite,
peristalsis using all its might
with such potent it broke through
into my cave.

my cave so suspenseful and hollow
ridges lined along its curves
churning to my so-called mental benefit
those gastric juices now released,
microscopic dynamite
simply had one more muscle to defeat

a match at last perceived
microvilli frankly yearning love ,
in, it took the dynamite.
yet confused it became as
micro relations only last a short while.

"Nutrients" absorbed,
betrayal on its way
the blood stream sent in shock
oh such bloodless atriums
oh such vaulted ventricles.
oh how my blood flow met its end.

Although deceiving it had been
no promises were riven
the dynamite exploded
and at last
no longer was I broken.
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