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P 2h
My dreams are turning dark
There is no way to come back
I'm ready to give up
The Reaper waits with open arms

They don't care to see the signs
I was always in the back
My whole life I've felt left out
By the ones I cared about

Now I'm digging my own grave
It gets deeper every day
Every tear that I've had shed
Carved a river in my head

I swim in them every night
Like a fish without a thought
It is easier to go back
Then to move on with my life
Ariannah 19h
Sadness, tears of water
Can't I just make them go faster

Tension, no words
Holding back emotions
Hidden in a secret place
Unfortunately, they always escape

But they're not real
And they don't exist
Yet I can't help, I always miss
Your voice, making me feel
Like the happiest girl that's ever been

Yet I cry and cry
Waiting for you to see the pain through my eye
But then I remember
That I'll never get better

And that I'm always the one to cry
I'm always the one to ask why
Just because I'm always the one to say goodbye

When I'm no longer in control
I always tend to hold
Onto the empty space where you used to be
With a strong, painful pain piercing right through me
You know I long to be
The one you call your destiny.
So won't you say hello?
This love is haunting me,
And I just want you to know.
The memories we’ve made
Still keep me awake at night.
For 576
These words
should scream out loud!
They should howl in pain
and weep with tears.

These words should run,
jump,
bend in half,
spit blood,
grind their teeth
and curse!

These words would kick,
grab throats,
bite,
scratch,
pull hair,
and gouge out eyes.

These words would want to curse
and hate.
These words could die
of venom,
only to rise again
and die once more.

These words would go mad...

...if only they could spring to life!
The poem explores words' raw, unbridled potential—what they could achieve if only they had life. It conveys the speaker's frustration and yearning, who sees words as vehicles of emotion and action bound by their inanimate nature.

The theme revolves around expression, emotional intensity, and limitation, portraying words as powerful and helpless.

Each stanza escalates the emotional weight, starting with screaming and weeping, progressing to physical violence, and culminating in madness and resurrection. This crescendo mirrors the speaker’s rising desperation and frustration.

The closing line, "...if only they could spring to life!" is both a ****** and a resolution. It starkly contrasts with the vivid, animated imagery preceding it, emphasizing the static nature of words. Highlights the ultimate limitation of language: no matter how powerful or evocative, it remains inert without human action.
Awful is
The particular sound my tears make when they hit the ground
You'd think maybe they'd be entertaining, coming from a clown
But misery echos a history and the volume can not be found
Any smile is a complex frown I've simply practiced upside down

©2024
I feel
an angel’s touch, so soft, so near,
a mountain crumbles,
its roar I hear.

I see
the shadows carved by lightning’s glow,
the light of a seed
in the earth below.

I hear
the silence stretched across the years,
curses rising from the graves
through tears.

I believe
in the stain of a demon’s dark embrace,
in the power of words
to claim their space.

I know
who will bear the weight my cross demands,
why the world bleeds
through trembling hands.

I feel
the steps that lead me closer to my breath’s last bend,
the touch of an angel
before the end.

*

I Feel
(Alternative translation I)

I feel
an angel's touch upon my skin
I feel once more
a mountain crashing, tumbling in

I see
the shadows lightning leaves behind
I see anew
the light within a seed confined

I hear
the silences an age has kept
I hear again
the curses rising from the crypt

I trust
the foulness that a demon breeds
I trust still more
the power that resides in deeds

I know
who'll bear the cross that's meant for me
I know as well
why bleeds the heart of all we see

I feel
how many steps till death I tread
I feel once more
an angel's touch upon my head
(Originally written in Romanian.) The poem engages all the senses to convey a feeling of transcendence and existential struggle. The contrast between life and death, light and darkness, is a central motif.
This poem presents a journey of awareness, moving between sensory experiences and spiritual reflections. The angel at the beginning and end bookends the work with a spiritual framework, suggesting a reliance on faith amidst the chaotic contrasts of existence. The use of sensory verbs ("feel," "see," "hear") is immersive, pulling the reader into the speaker's evolving realization of mortality and existence.
I was smitten from the first time I met you.
It’s just a feeling, like...
When you look at me, I can’t even breathe.
I was just a little boy with a crush on you.
But now, I don't know.
Maybe it’s just too late for us.
For 576
Nahin 6d
While asleep, I sense you hand
on my forehead.
As a drop of your tears
fall on my cheek,

upon seeing the way I'm sick all day,
this love is worth of
not being well for a thousand years.
The beauty of love
Jeremy Betts Nov 12
No one paid no mind
To the tears from this man
That land at my feet
Creating a quicksand
I couldn't slow the rate
At which it would expand
Leading to the scars
At the base of each hand
I know what you think of me
But this wasn't part of the grand plan
I tried and as usual
I was not able
To help you understand
That I just wasn't capable
Of being a "real man"

©2024
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