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Mystic Ink Plus May 2018
My concern to
The Central Bureau of Statistics (CBS)
Whenever it publishes
Updated data of
The Martyrs of love

Imagine,
What count it be?

And,
The utmost concern is,
The sensitivity and specificity
If they will include,
Me and you, or not.

Last plea to CBS,
Let it reveal
The total counts of,
The serial killers of trust,
With classified gender

So that,
There will be less sufferers
Then after.
Genre: Love
Theme: Just a thought
The I'm sorry
The it's ok
The silent battle
A dummy
For anyone
Just humans made to experiment
To cut, chop, and burn
We live just to die
Of a battle that is silent
To become a statistics
The silent battle that kills
Yet few people know
I'm already dead
Janna Smith Feb 2018
A week ago, you became part of the statistics called "The number of suicides of children and young adults in Slovakia". Girls aged between 0-19 years have always been the smallest part since 2011, and it happened anyway. And now I am reading your most favorite author and I can’t understand anything. You and those poems. And you aren't here in order to explain it to me, so I'm just reading and losing myself in a text that I still have maybe a chance to understand, unlike you.

I miss you, sweet dreams.
If you are interested how it looks in my mother language:

Už je to chvíľa čo si sa stala súčasťou štatistiky s názvom “Počet samovrážd detí a mladých na Slovensku”. Dievčatá ktorých vek bol medzi 0-19 rokov mali od roku 2011 vždy najmenšie číslo a aj napriek tomu sa to stalo. A ja teraz čítam tvojho asi najobľúbenejšieho autora a ničomu nechápem. Tebe, ani tým básniam. A ty tu nie si, aby si mi to vysvetlila a tak *** čítam a strácam sa v texte, ktorému mám ešte hádam šancu, na rozdiel od teba, porozumieť.

Chýbaš mi, spi sladko.
allie May 2017
It happened to me.

Statistics.
That is me now.
I scream and I cry
Into the depths of my pillow.


I had not been wearing something that showed me.
I screamed and thrashed.
I am now a

Statistic.*

Help me.
Rid me of the memories
That play across my eyelids
Whenever my eyes close.

I regret every second
Of that tortured night.
And just when I thought it stopped
and the pain was gone
The real pain
Hadn't even started.
I've been wanting to post this for a while, so here it is. And if you ask, no. I am not going to expand on this topic. This is my first and last poem on this subject.
MR Maximo Oct 2016
It is a whole lot of pressure.
It is depressing especially when you have minimal views.
It is a major ego inflation when you have thousands.
It makes me forget why I write.
I do not write to be popular.
If that is the case then I should have gone and written a beauty blog. Those dudettes are rolling.
I write because I want to.
I write because I need to.
I write because I want to speak out.
I am no hypocrite.
Of course I want to be successful in this.
I want to reach those million views too.
But, I will do it in my own time.
I will do it in my own thoughts.
I will do it with my own breakthrough.
May take awhile.
But, what the hell?
I am still having fun.
So ***** you, stats.
Don’t spoil my fun.
The title says it all, I think.
"My daughter,
when you grow up (enough)
to be able to brandish self-sovereignty
tempered by self-discipline
I only hope that if and when you may choose
to try whatever drugs may appeal to you
you are least fortunate enough
to have access to clean ones
and a safe enough and comfortable enough environment
in which to study your interrelationship with them,
intellectually, physiologically, psychologically, spiritually, and socially,
but not necessarily in that order.

I won't tell you what to do,
but my advice is this:

Don't eat yellow snow:
don't snort yellow coke.

If you're gonna poison yourself,
poison yourself with the good ****.

If you want to see whats up with something,
be certain your sample size is representative.
That's just good Science.
No one likes a false statistic
except those in power
who wish to remain in power
so maintain thy power
to wield thy freedom of choice
armed with an arsenal of personal experiences
sailing with an armada of accurate information
upon the high seas of this uncertain but certainly beautiful Life,
but be prepared to accept the consequences.

That's just responsibility.

That alone oughtta put you well ahead of the curve."
Fictitious, but that doesn't warrant dismissal, I think.
Kagey Sage Oct 2015
Anyway, it'd be cheaper if products didn't advertise
But, instead, they waste all that good money
to cloud our vision and stuff our ears
Just to inform in the Information Age, you think
But, really, it's to mold
Look at the Billions spent on psychologists
Don't be confused
Trupoetry May 2015
You're probably reading this from the same place I'm writing it
behind a desk
outside the box
trapped in a corporation
free in my thoughts

You're probably reading this for the same reason I'm writing it
because words matter
because it doesn't matter
the way everything matters

You're probably sick of reading
probably
yet we are hardly anything more than what can be proven
we're probably
the invention before probability

The loving  likelihoods of life
like crawling before walking
like falling when learning to walk
like walking into runs

The statistics of confusion
divided for the mystical equation
of adding all things make believe
subtracting all things real
and solving you for yourself
Ignatius Hosiana Apr 2015
Many times, we love, we are loved, we hate
and we are hated and yet we can never find
quantum proof for how much we feel what we
feel, It's left to habitual action, like It's
assumed we hug, kiss or smile as proof of love,
yet even haters can do the same since we live
in a universe where many smile with their
teeth rather than heart.
I believe a scientist somewhere's trying to
discover a way of bringing about statistical
perfection.
Even emotical pendulums, clockwise towards
happiness and Anti-clockwise towards
Melancholy have an imaginary measure hence
cannot be traced.
By and large, I think trying to quantify feelings
is a holy Grail hunt, it doesn't matter how
much, It's enough knowing you are loved or
hated, you are desired or repelled. As long as
you know, quantity doesn't matter, life is all
about the moments, not how long those
moments resonate before their wave taking a
different existence. Life is not about how many
breaths you take, but the moments that take
your breath away. It's a Game where the Goals
you score don't matter, what matters is you
play your role right.
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