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sadnspicy0 Oct 15
She was never enough,
and that's why she was crying,
lady "Nobody's Type",
whom I was glorifying.

In the kingdom of dreams
she will stay for too long.
She's the queen of white sheets,
the prettiest girl
                                                     in morgue...
There was a girl in my hometown who decided to do a rhinoplasty because she had a tiny **** on her nose.
She never woke up after that...
"Alive failure is better than a dead masterpiece"
Joseph Koch Jul 3
Am I awake?
This simulation feels so real
My every waking moment
Masks and hazmat suits fuel my fear
This ******* nightmare
Somebody get me out of here

I don't know what I'm saying
I just don't ******* sleep
They wait for me inside my dreams
Another **** stain
On some brand new sheets

Now In a few days
I'll be back on the street
Old holes holes in my socks
The same dirt on my jeans
In the back of my head
I know I'll never really leave

Wake me up again
Slice my skin
Take my blood
Push my medicine
Experience in hospital during Covid-19.
A few weeks and 2 major surgeries. I wrote this when I hadn't slept in over 5 full days.

The poem is about my state if mind during this particular hospital stay. I should not hsve lived this time, and I should not have lived when I was shot either. I hope anyone enjoys the manically written poem above.
Chloe Apr 1
Blood is red
Bruises are blue
My wisdom teeth just got pulled
But only two
Well I got my wisdom teeth pulled today and ouch, it hurts
Just Smile
by Michael R. Burch

We’d like to think some angel smiling down
will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard,
ripped off by dogs, will guide his tipsy steps,
his doddering progress through the scarlet house
to tell his mommy “boo-boo!,” only two.

We’d like to think his reconstructed face
will be as good as new, will often smile,
that baseball’s just as fun with just one arm,
that God is always Just, that girls will smile,
not frown down at his thousand livid scars,
that Life is always Just, that Love is Just.

We just don’t want to hear that he will shave
at six, to raze the leg hairs from his cheeks,
that lips aren’t easily fashioned, that his smile’s
lopsided, oafish, snaggle-toothed, that each
new operation costs a billion tears,
when tears are out of fashion.
                                                O, beseech
some poet with more skill with words than tears
to find some happy ending, to believe
that God is Just, that Love is Just, that these
are Parables we live, Life’s Mysteries . . .

Or look inside his courage, as he ties
his shoelaces one-handed, as he throws
no-hitters on the first-place team, and goes
on dates, looks in the mirror undeceived
and smiling says, “It’s me I see. Just me.”

He smiles, if life is Just, or lacking cures,
Your pity is the worst cut he endures.
But hack him down and still he’ll always rise,
lifting his smile to the sun or the star-filled skies.

Published by Lucid Rhythms, The Eclectic Muse and Victorian Violet Press, then nominated by the latter for the Pushcart Prize

Keywords/Tags: Angels, baseball, ****** reconstruction, surgery, operation, God, scars, tears, courage, mirror, smile, date, dating, dog, attack, dogs, happy ending
Rose Amberlyn Feb 29
feeling so small,
and powerless.
Holding tight to my row boat,
As the dark ocean waters,
storm both sides.
My matted hair, soaked,
covering my eyes.
I sail alone,
without direction.

and they want to cut me open.
take away what i was born with.

my therapist said we are all butterflies.
transforming, changing.
metaphorically.

but some of us,
are changing,
biologically.
under a knife.
to save our life.

and that is the hardest metamorphosis,
i can think of.
Carter Ginter Feb 28
These scars lay on my skin
Delicately placed by surgical blades
Carefully crafted into my skin
They are art
They are a part of me
As always
I love these residual lacerations
This brail across my body
Telling my story for me
To those primed to receive it
The soft pink tissue raises slightly on my right
Agitated and stretched
Red from my inability to afford
Additional healing time away from work
Imperfect
Uneven
Visible
Beautiful
I love these pieces of myself
I love watching their journey
Through recovery and lifting
Feeling the changes tingle across my skin
As my body begins to trust me again
A piece about the scars I have across my chest from top surgery. It was the most life changing moment for me and one of the best decisions I've made for myself
Eternal life is on the tray.  
Your youthful cast has gone astray.
At the very least, this is what they say.
We all bleed, just in a different way;
regardless of the price you pay
so why endure another day
dilapidated, if I may?
Another blade, pitted against perfection. You always were, will be, the most beautiful, in my eyes...
Khoi Jan 22
Alone in my terminal
transformed by the scalpel
the mirror is my surgeon
and youth my captor
love is eternal
still, how can a heart be mended
if the demand is evergreen.
Andreas Peter Dec 2019
Sterile white dragon
Lunge
Silvered claws held high
And carve my love
From life
To life
Cold medical maw
To swallow whole, and
Hopefully
Spit back out
Renewed
Robert Oct 2019
you asked me if I would change
anything at all about your face

the answer of course is yes

I would move it closer to mine
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