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In various possible scenarios I hallucinated,
With numerous eyes bored on me,
Truth strangling my throat with hatred,
Now,yes, now I can be freed,
Well, truth is not that transparent as it seemed,
I know they won't turn their backs on me,
It's killing me inside, pay some heed,
But it will suffocate them for life, then let it be,
Where should I lead?

Away from them,
For their better only,
The Truth is unsaid!
Maybe another day.
The truth has never been simple, it's the honest nature which convince us to see its meaning clearly, decide what you think wise..
Little Bear Feb 21
a tempestuous storm
blows through
the hollows
of her eyes

whining on the wind
as if a wolf,
howling it's sorrow
in cries of loss.
it calls
the blackened sky

between the gaps
in her fingers  
the dust consumes
her skin
to bone

where brittle
wedding bands
from her fingers
into the sodden grass
full of
mourning dew

dropping like cymbals
upon uneven ground.

thundering gales
tear through her ribs
borne of heartbeats
that roar misery

her bones
excavated marrow
bleaches white
in the sun,
dries to dust
and gladly falls
to nothing

her sorrow leaks
into her veins.
unrequited love
at her torment

that ebb and flow
wither and die
gives her
in her isolation

an eternal grounding

as loves tempest
wreaks utter

she hears the
wolves cry
  and she is too empty
to reply
smol edit, i hope it reads better now :)
He is a drop of morning dew
Blended with sunlight streaks
He is a wind gushing through
And I found my inner peace.
Neuvalence Jan 11
How delicate the mind—
Devoid of warmth; devoid of comfort.
How cruel the nights have become.
The churning of my stomach grows
as I lie against callous tile.
My skull to burst as I
am erratic in thought—each one
burning me still.
They blur my throat for I grasp for air.

I cannot reach it.
Hello again, Hello Poetry. It's been a year, but I am back :)
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
In the silent deep I wait.
I listen for my call against the endless void of noise.
What I am waiting for I know not.
How and why I am here are equal mysteries,
that fill the lost passage of time.
I cannot know the hour nor the minute.
All that I have is the moon
lapping the surface about.
Never the solar, always the lunar face.
My body is stiff and heavy,
almost impossible to move.
My view is always the same.
These dark holes and splintered eyes
fill my soul with dread.
It never moves nor takes its gaze from me.
I cannot smell, speak nor taste.
When I try,
I cough into nothingness,
My body forcing black liquid from my lungs
runningIntheDark Nov 2019
I’ve always had some days
that I dont exist.

Some days,
I just can’t try anymore.
I can’t be anymore; life's heavy.

When will I go a day and be
able to breathe through;

I’m still waiting.

I’m so happy,
But ******* sad.
It’s never gone away.

I just keep reaching and reaching.
Falling harder and harder every time. Drowning into myself and my suffocation.

It all feels so ******* unobtainable.

Someone made a world for
everyone. Except me.
Poetic T Oct 2019
You were my suffocation,
   but I didn't mind

                    your fingers over

my mouth.

I  still licked your fingers
              through my teeth.

asphyxiation delusions,
                               but I tasted you,
              which was taster than breath.

I'll suffocate for you, even though i cant inhale.

exhaling is temporary,
                    but I'll always breath you inward.
Pagan Paul Jun 2019
Through a forest glade
and down a narrow path
there stands a sacred tree
with its heart torn in half.

Bramble clings to its trunk
ivy covers over its bark,
reaching up for the light
fighting against the dark.

Forgotten by the woods,
ignored in a crowded place,
for it yearns for attention,
just a little tender grace.

© Pagan Paul (27/06/19)
Yvonne Nice Apr 2019
Tiles floors
As if an elaborate game of chess
Spiraled notebooks with lined paper
As if the bars on our collective prison cell
Mechanical pencils filled with lead
As if loaded weaponry to face war
Plastic chairs with metal screws
As if  the electric chair to melt our brains away
Teachers and their ungodly stare
As if guards keeping us complacent

They do it for the world, they say
They do it to prepare us for life, they say
They do it to help us grow and become smarter, they say
But that's not the whole truth, not in the slightest
They want to keep us in line
They want to keep us in place
They want to keep us silenced
They want to make us the perfect human
They want us to be perfect
We were supposed to be perfect

But we cant
We cant do what they want us to
We cant be their cookie cutter student
Never with straight As
Never with perfect manners
Never with perfect behavior
Never with their perfect emotions
Because we can't

But we can be our own person
With our own feelings
With our own emotions
With our own words
With our own personalized strengths and weaknesses
Because we can't be what they want
What humanity wants
But we can be human
We can be ourselves

And we will be
We will break and fall
And we will crumble to the sea of woes
But we shall rebuild our mighty kingdom
Out of tear drops and wooden blocks
And we will be human
We will be us
A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, but we are all our own weakest link.
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