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Deeee May 2016
I have a friend, his name is Death
We like to play, though we never hold hands
We like to sing and run in the fields,
and sometimes he touches a bird.
Sometimes he touches a cow
Sometimes he touches a man
Sometimes he touches a mother

I have friend, his name is Death
We tell each other secrets
We know each other’s feelings
He doesn’t like what he was born to do, he says
And I long to give him a hug as he weeps
But I cannot touch him, you see
Not because death would take me
But because Death would take me

I am not afraid of Death
Or the Afterlife I've glimpsed in my mind
I am not afraid of Death
Or the sound sleep he often describes
I am not afraid of Death

No

I am afraid for Death
I have seen the pain as he took another
I have seen the regret as he touched a mother
I have heard his cry that he would rather
That he would never

I am afraid for Death
Because he must live with himself
Because he must live by himself
Because he must give all that he wants

And I would never that he was forced to give it to me
Emmett Husmann Apr 2016
I came down to make brunch,
Early on
In the afternoon.
I cracked the eggs
And lit the stove,
My dog limped up beside me.
A three legged beast of
Enormous size
Humbled by
The lack of limbs.
I fried the bacon,
But threw no scraps,
Though I was her support.
Inspired by "old bones" by Misha Collins.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
There is an emotional graveyard in my back yard
It's for all the feelings that die, and I discard

Innocence was the first to fall
But isn't it always that one for us all

Happiness fallowed soon after that
Because my life quickly turned to crap

Trust was the next to bite the dust
For self preservation it was a must

Ignorance was the very next one
I swiftly learned life's lessons
Under the gun

Love has entered and been dug up from the ground
But each time I bury it a little father down

Sympathy can also out there be found
It's right over there it's the biggest mound

Desire and all the stuff I crave
Is right here in this shallow grave

Lust that I mistook for love one to many times
Deep is it's hole it was such a vicious crime

Joy also has it's place among the markers
It couldn't be saved by the therapist or doctors

Anger was the last that went underground
I just couldn't take any more of it's horrific sound

You'll notice pain, agony, and strife
Very much still have lots of life
So also is fear and my darkness
I have placed their markers after all I'm heartless

And that last little plot way over there
Under the Weeping Willow dug with such care
It's stone only has dates and dashes
That's for my shell when it finally crashes
For it will be hollow void of all emotion
To lie in that grave will be such a promotion
woolgather Apr 2016
From the eyes of a nobody,
Wits of  a deranged,
I speak reality, though not clearly,
That one like you be saved.

If sympathy is what you seek,
Seek not to strain your soul;
Though you do not feel at world's peak,
I will do nothing but condole.

I have been where you are today,
And, frankly, have never left;
I had mistaken that the right thing was to lead astray,
Now I missed Love's theft.

A cluster of words,
Seems meaningless to some;
I do not aim to be absurd,
I just wish to conjure a soothing hum.

I have never known you,
Nor have seen you, even once;
I merely tell that , even you are not my ou,
You're not alone in these wretched runs.

In time you will ease,
Even the darkest of your fears.
And you will earn peace,
After the myriad of tears.

I am but a stranger,
Yet I feel the same as you,
We will battle the Alleger,
We will battle like we all do.

Dear Fallen One, I hope you can read this,
And get what I transpire;
Don't worry if they won't stop the hiss,
Because one day, they will tire.
We have all been there, and some are still there, Fallen One. I hope this can give you even a little shine of light.

Cheers from somewhere in the world.
Isabelle Apr 2016
She was not happy
Her soul slides away
Wandering in the alley
Body, mind and heart at fray

She was lost
in thoughts and words
fingers crossed
silently praying to the lords

She was cursed
emotions wanted to burst
couldn't anymore hide the pain
so she cried a river and didn't strain

Her sobs were a sad song
in the alley wailing for so long
But nobody cares
and nobody dares,
to ask her how is she
to save her from misery

The world is apathetic
and some are sympathetic
but help was never offered
so alone she suffered

The light in her eyes were gone
Her soul slides away
In this awful place she was done
wrapped her neck with a cord and play
Erin Mar 2016
Let me hold your heart within my hands
I crave every inch of ******, beating, scarred and wounded
I want this beautiful instrument of life, to sing it's sweet melancholy melody
To convey how cruel this life can be
I will absorb your painful memories, let you feel freedom which may taste bitter at first
So unload your hurt, I cannot take it from you
But promise to stand by your side, until you do
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
Please excuse me for my days of doubt
On these days I have to write it out

Otherwise these feelings stay inside
Get down in my soul and hide

Then eat away all my will
In this these feelings are very skilled

The foster thoughts of death and release
They are definitely a cunning thief

But when I write on these days, they are not sympathy
It's just to get out all the intensity
Sympathy for the devil
A phrase we all know
It means to be understanding
Of a man who cant tell

Who cant tell the difference
Between what is good and bad
Who cant desipher the code
And so they live bottled up and sad

It means to take righteous
And stuff it in a box
For its not strong enough,
Barely a bull, or an ox

We need something more
A tank would suffice
A super charged righteous
And even still...on thin ice

It takes a great man
To stand up and say
"Im just as bad as you"
The irony is plain...

How could a man with such talent...
For good...
be brought to lesser
By the very words he brewed

Sadly it is so
That great evil be marked
As the final word in all the world
When it was the good that provided the start

The start to say "sorry"
"I admit i did wrong
It is my fault too"
As they sing that apology song

Then the darkness takes over
The advantage clearly sought
They know of bad charecter,
Except their own-they know not

The devil replies with a smirk
And always strolls on
Steam rolling the righteous
The tank is now gone

My point is just this...
Please apretiate the man
Who can apear before great evil
And say "i will take a stand"

For this he is wise
And couragous as well
He knows he's not perfect
Which is what makes a perfect angel
Be righteous more than anything, u will get steamrolled, trampled, used, and abused, but all that will happen anyway, its better in the end to say "i would have done the same" and with a proud understanding, be set free of emotional obligation for revenge, anger, frustraition, or any other emotion that would harm your mental tranquility, it feels better...i learned this lesson...long ago
Àŧùl Feb 2016
If you lost your feelings to the world's ways,
Then surely I don't look for your sympathy,
But there are few who understand,
I do look for their empathy,
And their kind words of advice.
A small poem for those who only have indifference running in their wayward veins.

Got my right side floating ribs fractured. Now I face difficulty in breathing, coughing, sneezing or blowing my nose clear.

My HP Poem #1025
©Atul Kaushal
svdgrl Feb 2016
When honesty feels like your organs are exposed-
blood is slipping out numbed wounds and it's embarrassing,
then maybe at that point, it's not just honesty.
Maybe it's a blatant self-sacrifice, like a look-at-me
look-at-my-love-for you confession,
or even an I-can-rip-my-own-skin-off-
and-show-you-what's-inside plea.
Believe you me.
You'll be a Prometheus punished daily
by reiterating the truth over and over,
only to grow a new skin overnight,
before you ever lie again.
And that honest self-sacrifice should not
be for someone unworthy.
It's a truth meant to be seen by someone
with merit.
Who wouldn't take your exposure
place it over the fire for far too short a time,
and complain while they eat it up.
The right people are hard to come by-
because real honesty is barely clean,
and rarely meant to be eaten raw.
Self-sacrifice isn't light,
isn't always healthy,
and may leave you with a sick stomach.
But if the right person sees it,
they'll stitch you back up,
drink only your tears until
you have empty eyes,
and hold you and your secrets in,
like the sweetest child they could ever love.
Stop ripping yourself open
to people who can't deal with blood,
especially yours.
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