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Emily M May 10
Deep inside
The demons she hides
Can't deny them
Compacting my emotions into a gem
Tossing it to the sea
Will I ever be free?

I have love
But it's not enough
I thought it would be
But they won't let me be
It's only dragging me further down
But I don't want to let him down

He's too sweet
Too kind
What a find

Still
I am here
Unchanged
Deranged still
Un-resting
What have I become?

While I sit here
Wondering what has become of me
They try to "get help" for me
But I'm not taking the bait
I'm not going away
I'm not leaving my world behind

So confused
Lost in myself
Afraid of everything
Running blind
In a forest so dark and unknown
So familiar
But I can't see

Just bring me out
Take my hand
I know not why
I can't just deny
This strangeness
Chilling my bones

I love, and I love
But I lose

I love, and I love
But I lose...
I always lose...

- Emily M
May 10th, 2019
I don't know what's happening to me...I don't know if I can hold on. I feel like I'm slipping, but like I've already fallen, and like I'm laying down...
Lily Luty Dec 2016
Here we lie, tangled in
Each other, yet apart

My eyes focus, I track across
Your face, this room, these clothes
So known and yet as blurred
As the graphics on your shirt

I count your eyelashes
As though they are rosary beads,
And try to find you hidden
In their shells

I see you, but don't know you.
Bittersweet memories
Crash and break around me;
I lose you in their depths

Two pairs of lips in a blind dance
I barely follow.
Disgust and want fight over me,
Love lost in waves of apathy

Hormonal needs are met by hands
Ill-conceived kisses greet them-
Breath is caught too quickly
And my desperate searching fails.

Your mask grimaces. You smile,
I’m blank, and pale and still.
My mind and soul are smothered
By dark polluted thoughts

And when it's over, it's not finished;
You study my face for clues
While I trace the etchings of my skin
And yearn for clean release

It's not you, it's me.

It's not you, and it's not me either,
This room is not your room.
I drift, unanchored, unresponsive
Too tired to understand

So I silently indulge
You in complicity
And although our bodies join
We both miss our connection

My mind has turned the one I love
Into a stranger.
Alienpoet May 2016
I stare at my four walls
If there was a speech bubble where would it fall?
Sometimes I think I am cartoon character on TV.
Waiting for the script to become the real me
Sometimes the world steals my ideas
Sometimes I can't grasp reality from my fears
Tears form to loneliness of which we were born
It's the storm of the monologue which yearns to escape us
The people who berate us, hate us probably are jealous
Of our strangeness.
Sombro Oct 2015
He laughed a little, but
His eyes left
Already forgotten
What I'd said
As I slipped from the room.

Waved, gingering hair, it did,
Likely to miss me on
That busy head.
Surrounded by the thick dark
That feels like swimming.

In truth, I enjoyed our chat,
However short he made it,
But I couldn't forget
Those quivering eyes
And the way they settled
As I left.

It wasn't only me,
Many others try
Miners all the lot of us
But sculptors carve the rock better
And by now

All he is is stone.
A poem on appearances and how people see me (it's about me). Yes, I have started writing poems about myself. Think what you will :D
Paramount Pawn Apr 2015
How should I say this
I'm a bit strange?
Nope, not a bit
To be exact.
Just entirely strange.
But the strange is my nature.
The weird is my home.
Insanity is my sanity.
Sombro Jan 2015
I once drew a woman
Destined to be strange
Her eyebrows flipped over
Her lips in her brain

An ear on her nose
And one on her chin
It's strange to think, but for all my effort
Her strangeness came out more beautiful than all my other drawings.

So I kept drawing her,
Years on when I couldn't stop
Addicted to seeing her on the pages
Addicted to her simple strange ways.

She became my muse
And I thought of her in all my work
Every word written down
Was a new name I gave to her

Every picture I carved out of ink and paper
Was another strange change of her face
She took me over and
She's the kind of girl who can't leave me.

That strange make believe girl.
True story. I drew a woman whom I wanted to be strange, but she turned out more beautiful than anything I ever drew, I still remember her.
Valerie Csorba Mar 2014
There was nothing strange about us.

We made love underneath a mesh canopy under watch of the stars while everyone else spent their time drinking their worries away for the few hours left until the morning.

Waking up in the middle of the night to your mind playing with and picking at your gray matter like it was some puzzle that needed torn to pieces instead of its usual mastery.

They destroyed you and your sanity.
They made you something you should have never become, yet you already were.

They took you from me and made you someone I hated to adore.
Now I just hate you.

Conversations still occur on a frantic basis that confuse the soul of anyone trying to gather their dissipating hope in human beings.
They make the mind an empty and angry place when placed on the track of you.

Now I just hate you, there is nothing left.
There is something strange about us.

— The End —