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Mona 1d
find your inner peace
part ways with your inner beaat
the demons that come to feast

seek closure with the pleasure of pain
you deserve love like plants deserve rain
or you'll burn alive like oxygen to a flame

thoughts that occupy your mind
don't resist or judge, stay aligned
peace is not a destination, forever grind
a metaphysical space, a frequency your mind transcends to.
iano 2d
of my pain
i can only tell
on its passing

when it is
a boiling stillness
its the safest way

As I cry I watch
My family die
As the president laughs
With joy playing golf
As loved ones die
Coronavirus disease is here
Coronavirus everywhere
Suffering every day
Feeling the pain every day
Nobody is Safe
The unknown is here
No more happiness
And joy
Coronavirus is here
Our loved ones
Taken away
As Coronavirus has arrived
Sadly it's here to stay..
Coronavirus Disease
R.I.P Everyone.
There is love in the way
You look at the skies after a tiring day,
In the way the heat of the sun
Kisses you and all your worries away

There is love in the changing of seasons,
In the exhausted sigh of the wind
As the last leaf falls off a tree,
You'll know love in a glimpse

But love is not simple as it seems
Sometimes it takes more than just a glimpse
To recognize love when it comes to you
In the form of longing, aching and hurting

Now, the moment you see love in suffering
Is the moment you rise up, up above
Because that means you truly loved, loved, and loved
Until maybe you couldn't
What purity is rendered from the wreckage of these days?
Hearts torn asunder and splayed across a dying world;
A world that falls like dreams do
When the light hits hard across the room.

And I want to hold something heavy and cold,

Like the smooth stones at the base of the current’s flow,

But I am grasping air

And my breath weaves a river that dissipates
Like the memory of snow
Across the western peaks
Before the harsh rays of late spring
Melt these sculpted constructs down to nothing but
Granite and bone,

And the scintillating potential of the soul,

Like a wound that festers,
Or is rendered,
Into something mercilessly scarred
But somehow, more beautiful,
And whole.  

In the breaking, there is death,

And I question whether that is all there is.

Sometimes, the breaking never ends and all I see is a failure to save her. The darkness claims her over and over again in my mind and
There is the sharp absence of a savior,

Anywhere, here on earth,
Or later,

And it certainly wasn’t me.

So, is that what this life will be?
Or can we render light from the wreckage of these days,
If we were to drop down and crawl on bended knees
To some higher place

Where there is redemption in defeat

And a new life
Fresh and green
Sprouting from the remnants of our own humility
In which we must now anchor

I don't want people to break and die. I didn't want to lose my mom and not in the way that we did. I'm sorry for all of this suffering. It seems, sometimes, that we will be broken of our arrogance one way or another, even the arrogance that we have some kind of right to live. And I wonder if there will be something better born or rendered in humility, or if there is nothing at all.
I wrote this poem back in 2018 during one of the darkest times in my life. I was suffering from depression and this is how I felt at the time. I hope you enjoy the poem and please leave a comment.❤️❤️
Sheila Greene May 19
In the quiet
Rattling peace
Confusion in chaos
Created by me

Hollow heart
Deadness within
It's not real pain
It's mental
Yet unbearably insane

Seeking punishment
Well deserved
It's ok
Turn your back
It's well earned

Quailing nightmare
Find no peace
Hurt me to ****
The beast
To make it cease.

Time's the enemy
For I suffer
Deeping hole
Widening abyss
Where I can't find my lover

© sd greene 9/19/17
We all have bad days, we are human.  Some of us have a daily struggle with the hollowness left by the monster within.
Shreya Dristi May 14
The cracking of your bones,
sounds you hear when you crouch.
Trying to protect yourself from whom?
Your spine can bend
and extend
no further, protruding out
ready to snap, you twist and you moan and you groan
when will this stop?

You feel as frail as a bird
One that has fallen after its very first flight

The cracks are what you hear
when hope is lost.
You feel like your weakening will
can weaken
no further.

just stop.

Listen here
Don’t listen to yourself breaking
Don’t slip through these cracks
Standing up is now your cause
Hope is not lost
So sit up and straighten your back

The more you crouch, the more it hurts
That corner you’re attached to is not your solace
or quiet place
you crouch there, only in the cold embrace
of your crumpled shirt

Corners don’t shelter you from your fears;
they cage you in with them.
They widen and stretch the cracks on your skin
Allowing pain and judgement to seep in
Cracks are gateways letting the water in…
Water that dampens your flame, your fire
and Hope
a precious thing

You’re hidden yet left wide open
Stuck in purgatory
This liminal hell
You hear the tolling of your own death knell

Are these cracks the
pain before your rebirth
the shedding and flaking
of your skin
which will leave you behind, a rejuvenated being?

You decide if these cracks will only exist
as a reminiscence of the passing pains
or will your thoughts dictate
that these cracks originate
from the epicentre of who you are?

Will you let this cancer-like spreading of the cracks continue?
Or will you stand up and straighten your back
To close up the cracks
and save you from You
This poem is an inner dialouge. It is about facing your fears and getting back up after. Feeling like a failure makes you vulnerable and afraid and it cracks open a pandora's box filled with self-loathing and doubt. The poem is about acknowledging the pain and facing it.
The uniVerse May 14
I see your signature etched in their flesh
a cats tale for each of his lives
tell me who’s to be next
let me go sharpen my knives
I guess my skin is far too pale
for even just one of your tails
does not mean I’m a slave in my own right
just that my master is out of sight
but not out of mind
my taxes paid but still, he robs me blind
how can you compare one suffering to another?
- you can’t each due is fulfilled upon death
mine is an absent lover
and yours a pound of flesh.
MerlieJ May 11
The abundant flow of grief
crashes down
like a tidal wave
over one
body at a time
With its strength
it pulls, pushes
spits out, thrashes, spins
the body of the bereaved
For moments tossing
the body so high
it sees all the stars
in a way stars, Earth,
water, sky have never been seen
A small gift from grief
A token of light
to ease our suffering
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