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for the longest time,
my pillow case was
the only one who
saw me cry.
Tears fall
Words spill
Truth comes forth
And the pain
zee 3d
Blood spilled
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be

The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be

The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be

Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?

What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?

What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through

What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?

But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power

What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?

Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter

What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?

Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh

So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water

The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student

So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry
Yaryna 4d

You speak to me with a language I can't understand
I had a tendency to love with sorrow and grace.
You went through like a stranger from another land.
I was ready to give you a star, but all you needed was space.
You do look in the mirror, searching for magic,
Knowing that you had one and couldn't keep it close.
When comet sets on fire, it always ends up tragic,
And this who's sure of winning, always lose the most.
Please, don't you wipe my silver, frozen tears,
I'm not afraid of fire, I'm scared of being burned.
If you can't say I'm most atrocious of your fears,
Name me then a lesson that you haven't ever learned.
Tears percolate from
round, fishbowl eyes,
cheeks a sting
with salt
and loneliness.

I barter with the deluge,
hold my breath
for as long as my lungs
will permit
until a motley of colour
bruises over my vision.

And I can't help but think:
perhaps fainting is
the next best thing to dying,
especially when you are too afraid
to commit to the permanence
of killing yourself.

My only dilemma?

What am I to do with myself--
with the tears--
once I regain consciousness?
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
thesa 4d
you left quickly, without any goodbye
but with the time i tricked my tears into a smile
Chris 4d
When you walk and when you sleep,
When you curl up in demise,
When the voice is weak and deep,
And sadness comes as no surprise,
You will jump and you will cheer,
You will find that you know best,
You'll be glad that you are here,
You'll be glad life gives no rest.

Wenn Sie gehen und wenn Sie schlafen,
Wenn Sie verzweifelt neiderlegen,
Wenn Seine tiefe Stimme Schreien,
Und durch Tränen sind Sie nicht überrascht,
Sie wird in großer Freude springen,
Sie werden feststellen, dass Sie alles wissen,Und weil
leben Sie, Sie wird  freudig singen,
Das Lebe keine Ruhe gibt, Sie werden glücklich sein.
This is a poem about accepting the ever speeding flow of life and the excitement and unrest that come with it.
Ivette 4d
Listen you don't need a Therapist

Sure they help you but do they really help?

They're never there when you are looking at the mirror and calling yourself disgusting, and that you're hideous.

They're never there when you are on the verge of tears when something impacts you dramatically.

They are never there when you want to cut yourself so bad.

They as how you are doing, they ask what you want and need.

But do they really care? You just get money out of me do you want to help or do you want the money to survive.

After this you always go back to your happy home planning the next family vacation

But I always go back to the loneliness, the dark room that doesn't shut out the screaming behind the walls.

I go back to feeling like I'm nothing and that unwanted
Sure maybe some of us have a therapist that actually helps us and makes us feel better and secure.
But there is this part of us that always goes back to feeling this nothingness
Erian 5d
From the tears that fall
To the pounding wall
Nothing stings more
Then the hurting inside
Max 5d
I wish I could tear myself apart just to get rid of the scars they left me.
Everything disolves and my grandma is not doing well..
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