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void Dec 2018
Unborn and already
A path has been chosen
By those that are not them -
To become another cog
In the inescapable machine that is society.

Born - early, half dead.
A step toward failure in
The eyes of their creator
For what they cannot control -
To be fixed and set right
On the path that they will learn to detest.

Developing - on time
To the doctors’ surprise.
The creator gives praise,
But the approval never lasts -
The environment is unsteady and
Unfit for angels to properly grow.

Learning - to please
Instead of exist as one’s own,
Matured in the wrong ways
For an angel of that age -
Molded to never cause concern
No matter the magnitude of circumstance.

An inconvenience to their maker
Unless they could be shown off
For the benefit of the creator -
In private often belittled
And ignored for so much as being a child.

In public a model,
A display of perfection -
Quiet, reserved. Listens well.
A miniature of their puppetmaster
(As what the creator allowed to be seen).

Yearning - to deviate
To become their own
Without the wrath that
Has always followed a stray
From the carefully chosen path
That their master has made so
Impossibly unachievable.

Desperate - attempting to remove
Their wings, Trying everything to
Fall from grace -
To be cast aside and never acknowledged
Or cared for again.
An attempt to be free
Executed in the worst ways -
Broken and bleeding they
Almost always return to
The way it was before as
Their creator sees nothing but
A way to start over and
Mold them once again
Into something unattainable.

For the rest of eternity
All the angels who taste individuality
Pursue endlessly that
Momentary tinge of
Identity; willing to
Try anything and
Everything to become
Angels of their own
Once again, well
If you could call them that.
LVQuigley Aug 2018
The colours are dull,
the sounds muted.
I see lips moving but cannot comprehend the words.

In this void of my own,
the outside world is unclear and very far away.
I'm brOKen Feb 2018
Hey,
Are you there?
Hey,
Can't forgive the past?

All Jo wanted were friends,
Taught that they could relieve Jo's pains
Every twitch is Jo's fight, against the broken parts in 'm

We sees through Jo's eyes, thoughts twisted with lies,
This mortal prison, his disease's disguise.
A finite of loathing, wolf in sheepish clothing,
We are so sorry, was it us who caused this ?

Jo's can't escape Jo's place, glass room, separation haze,
We don't think that we can control Jo's process and craze
Was locked in and keeped, rest not come in sleep,
We can care Jo here, because that what we're meant to be

All Jo wanted were friends,
Taught that they could relieve Jo's pains
Jo's mind isn't Jo's own, In Jo's mind, Jo is not alone.

We grieve, alone, we're all locked in here, you know?
The Joenymous's life isn't good to be so anonymous,
David DeMille May 2016
Downtown is underground


My feet are killing me
And I still can't see
I lost my sight ten miles back
There was this symbol of pure innocence
I came too close and it turns out
Around here
Nothings real

I thought "maybe if I push myself"
I couldn't do it
I've never been good at being a ****
I'm too nice a guy
So I just sat there
On what seemed like a mound of broken glass

I started to feel around
So I could get back on the road
When I felt something crawling on the ground
It was my dead dog from when I was eight
I said "Hey boy." and started to pet him
Then it happened
I lost my hands, they fell off

I couldn't cry
I couldn't even scratch my head in a confused gesture
So I did the one thing I could do
Walk

I was thinking of my childhood
Or at least what I could remember
My memory seemed to be slipping away
I thought nothing of it, loss was the theme of the day

I ran into an old man
He was my grandfather, the one I never met
I tried to catch up, and asked him how he'd been
He pulled out my tongue
So I gave him a hug
What else was I going to do

I blew I kiss good-bye with my stub
And continued walking
At least I had my lips


Realization


I started to think about my failure to question anything that was taking place
Was it a dream
Was I slipped some illicit drug
I felt no pain
I was de-evolved

Maybe that was it
After coming to this conclusion
The narrator switches from past to present tense
And I can sense my hearing losing strength
Before I could hear the birds
Now it's just my heart beat

I know what’s next
I only have one left
And this means I'll never smell another rose

I'm just a brain
With some flesh and muscle
And a little bit of pride
I still haven't lost my mind


Back to the past*


That’s how it all went
Losing everything you neglect
So I guess
I respect everything
That I don't have

I'm still sitting in this dream world
It's a little bit of heaven
With a helping of ****
Maybe that's it
Maybe I died.
Shayne Campbell Mar 2016
Be yourself one of the light
Be yourself one of the night
Begger or demander of the stars
Worker or waster of the hours
Difference is not when comes the end
The time of last is your judgment

All parts earth are mortal and will weary
The shepherds will turn restless to madness
Saddening the wise and smiling the devil
Slayers of kin they turn and find only loss
Bells will forever toll for the coming fire
The fire that will rain from the angry heavens

When the world halts in its fully aged shadow
All things earthly depleted for toxic luxury
Humans ceaselessly living in their dark arts
Winds from silent howl to rage do they roar
The ground thunders in nature's quake
Oceans and rivers of fire smother all to ruin

No more sinners thrive in power
As they flee like insects from the swatter
Their kin's blood stained on their souls
The world's blood spilt on their account
The sun's light shuts off and sight is only black
Almighty horror emerges out of the sun's corpse

Beyond the clouds of lightning is a portal
The gates to nothingness have been opened
The world has heard its call for the end
Into the void will creation be undone
And the fallen angels too will descend
Fearing the arrival of the Master Himself

All that has been has ended
But those that be with evil live
For they shall face the last judgment
Out of the endless void He comes
His voice utters terror inside the demons
And leaves them to rot in eternal naught

— The End —