The walls were closing in on me
Where the floor was rising
And the ceiling was sinking
Determined to suppress me to dust
A Chinese puzzle box
That’s more of a trap
Than a puzzle
For me to waste my time
Fiddling with the padlock
When there is no code
Discovering the key
When there is no hole
Turning the knob
When there is no door
An unsolvable problem
That I kept on trying to solve
Until my room was a box
And my box was a prison
And my prison was my life
Determined to suppress me to dust.
Li 1d
She was blinded by everything
She is in the abyss of her thoughts
She is sinking and drowning

She cried so hard that she lost her voice
She cried trying to escape her own agony and pain
She imprisoned herself in the her own chains

She is trapped between her own nightmare and daydream
She is confused by the light and the darkness
She is in the middle of a boundless maze, lost and nowhere to go

She let herself be devoured by suffering and  endless torture, be paralyzed by it
She can neither move nor speak

She is alone.
Your death caused a fracture in the foundation of the family
Trying to tie a tourniquet above the gaping hole isn’t an option
We all tiptoe around the pools of blood, but it still sticks to our sneakers.
Words like grenades, lobbed at each other
Hoping they’re duds, but deep down hoping they cause a crater
You were the bonding element even though we are too stubborn to admit it

When you were alive, you were the dartboard
Now that you’re gone, the darts are out of control.
Fiends driving suits of meat,
Vying prying,
Wishing wanting,
yearning and burning,
For a single stimulus,
Humanity forsaken,
Traded for,
Fleeting feeling.
We
All, us, them,
Words used to demonize,
Ourselves.
As if we always wish,
For hate upon,
One another.
Standing here, feeling the fear creeping up my spine
Like clouds covering sunshine
Monsters peaking from every little corner
I continue the suffering from this cancerous disorder
Shadows and danger crossing my border
My pile of hope is shrinking shorter
As mortars are tossing shells of torture
I who said to be a warrior
Ended a mourner
Drizzling ink
The bath water
rises over the rim.
The boat bounces
along with the waves.
The giant dips their
nose into the water.
The sailor braves
the tempest safe.


Then the waves began
to tip them over,
and the giant now lies
on the brink,
breaking ships
and creating waves
where only daring
sailors ever sink.
This whole poem is about a girl in a bath tub, thinking of the people she refused to let her love her, with a toy boat on the water, and imaginary sailors as her lovers.
I can't think.
I can't speak.
I can't write.
I can't eat.
I can't stop
to even sleep
You fill my thoughts,
and reverie, deep.
I'm back after a 5 day program of no gadgets and outside influences, and I am back to writing poetry.
Worlds losing,
Things that once meant so much,
through iron ages,
Times of bronze,
Copper mines,
And diamonds deep,
Humanity endlessly,
Searching for gold,
Minerals and metals,
Of value and vagueness,
Pulled up from the heart of earth,
To afford man,
No sense of peace.
She had flaked away her memories
and stepped up
with a ponderous heart,
held by two gentle hands;
And saying goodbye, did she,
as she slipped off her skin,
for the moment blood stains
the Kumari's tender soul,
bereaved, will she become,
for a goddess never bleeds.

Her feet shall never touch
the tattered, naked ground,
for it engulfs and devours
and burns off the Kumari's flesh.
Holding her pure spirit, and
  accepting a cruel death sentence,
her quivering soul
cupped but a glimmer of hope,
as the fire would flicker
and lash and whip
as her skin flakes again,
and the Kumari vanishes.

But, if she remains unscathed,
blood shall be drawn,
and the gods will tremble and
her body will collapse.
The world will consume her
once again.

A Kumari's blood,
drawn, now at death,
trembling and alone,
had she sobbed tears of joy,
for no longer the weight
must she bear in her heart,
of being a Kumari;
but a Kumari is she,
and the world has not chose her,
but she has chosen to be.

She had withered away,
heart no longer ponderous,
she stepped up.
And her wishes from within
passed on to the fearful others,
held by two gentle hands, and
with a gentle flutter of her eyes,
next to her charcoal stained skin,
had her heart stopped;
For her bejeweled crown had been stained with blood,
and the Kumari realized that
she had died long ago.
i worked really hard on this
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