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So many scream and cry of the worst
Those people inflicting hurts that bubble and burst
Yet I’ve encountered ones who are much crueler
Who invite madness and chaos by unmeasured rulers
They are the many who never really care
Whose emotional cupboard lay blank, bleak and bare
Who raze instead raise their kids, like barbaric hordes of old
And the kids grow to be monsters that don’t even know,
That the many screams and cries that they’ve heard for years
Are derived from the neglect that nested between their ears
And even the righteous can be blind to those things they left behind..
III May 27
We are all just broken messes, aren't we?

Just weird abstractions of people,
Clinging to the material and unnatural
Thrills and chills of being,
In some odd hope that we will wake up
Rejuvenated and refreshed
And with a mind so clean
And pure
And sure of ourselves,
But we are really just lost
In our own self-constructed mazes of
Complications and complexity.
Poetria Jan 28
colourblind
to traffic lights
but I know how they're
supposed to look

I walk along
a thinning kerb
frequently falling
stumbling along

nothing stops me
I stay on the edge
this line between safety
and imminent death
what punctuation? ;P
kevin hamilton Jul 2017
ii
i spent the night in a sink
the cold, stale air
the wet tombstone
pallid lights, local drink
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
We load the road of our success
With boulders of forgetfulness,
Stumbling each time again
As if we were but mindless men.
Shrunken, looking drunken,
Mumbling, some grumbling,
We were people, but barely,
Rarely standing up to stress.
Preferring to dress in the rags
Like hags and hobos, up to elbows
In the trash we bought with cash
Instead of buying our birthrights
Back from those who ****** us
Then ignored us, we were needing,
Some bleeding, and dying
And nobody but us was crying.

We’d carry all those speed bumps
We carefully crafted with our hands
And let them stand before us
To deter us and divert us every day
But not in a diverting way like TV.
It was a travesty, a mummer’s play
In which we each played our part
But, not like art come to life, oh no
It was a horror show for fools
And it was our own tools and effort
That pulled together to create a ride
In a non-amusing park of suicide.
Many of us don’t notice the slide
Until everybody and everything
Is on the upside and we are not.
It’s a kind of mental, moral rot.
Then the travesty became a tragedy
For you and for me, endlessly.
Lucrezia M N Mar 2016
This world I walk in, stumbling,
as ordinary as anybody's can be
I have to struggle getting it that way.
I wait light years for something
like that something awaits for me,
I should wanna be there come what may.
Maybe I'll finally feel like I belong
cause so far I've never really missed home.

I've always said
I wanted to escape
from this little town,
Somehow,
starting it all over again
as if I've learnt from my mistakes

Had I?
Am I able now to write a new life?
When will I be ready to sing a song of mine?

Many faces I pass by, sometimes
I wonder what if they knew me?
I'd be wary and keep my strange.
I see too much into every eye
like a life lived before, through it,
time to turn it all around and change.
No city is too big, so isn't your heart,
when you've got nothing, you can only go far.
So, this is supposed to be a song actually
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
My hands weren’t sweating when I said it.
                    I will never write a love song.
It never seemed like anyone could see
past the pink
                swirly
                       fogging their eyes.

   How pathetic.

But cheerios get soggy
when I look away this long
and I wrote my first melody
because of your swirly eyes.

   They’re so much darker,
                 like rotted leaves.


And second,
                third,
(voice cracking, echoing)
      my fingertips
are splitting over these strings.

Fourth-
palpating vibrations killing the me
I’d thought furthest through.
I swear,
I wont ***** as hard this time, but-

I can’t tie my shoelaces
without tearing flower petals,
so I walk around stumbling,

falling
into pretty girls.
Carol Like Jun 2014
The path was dark, I walked alone
At times I stumbled to the ground
Though my journey was long and hard
It was impossible to turn around
Of the many paths I could have walked
The one I chose looked clear and bright
The trail was green the air was pure
Oh that I knew, it was devoid of light
At times it seemed the sun came through
And whispered, "You have found the way"
At other times an eerie moon
Eclipsed with black the light of day
Thorns and limbs revealed themselves
I chose to leave its dark deceit
The new path I forged through the brush
Drew blood from skin and tore my feet
Oh what a brilliant choice I made
For a friend was there to help me see
The path I followed blindly at first
Was just not the right one for me
Now the path is clear and bright
I no longer walk it all alone
Along the way I found myself
And finally have made it home
Mary Carol Ann Like
Copyright July 2006
I wrote this in July 2006 as I was going through a period of my life where nothing was going right.  I had plenty of time to reflect on myself and how I saw myself as a person and what good could I bring to this world I live in although my circumstances at the time were dire.  It is a message of hope and inspiration.  It still touches me today.  I hope it touches your heart and inspires you.
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