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my soles are copper nearly
black, pudgy and blistering
heels cracked from heat
and hateful words,
my hands aren’t much better.
I soak them with epsom salts and tears
some nights I ask the sky,
why have you given me empathy -
what can I do with it
in a country soaked in blood?
Where are you?

I am in the middle. Of nowhere—of mislaid sanity. I am afraid of who I am becoming: lost in iliad.

Where the series of misfits and my miseries combined together; I am so lost. So broken—who am I becoming? Burning eyes, burning palms—they were showing tricks on me.

They were here. Watching me intently—they outgrow wings like a fallen angel: fallen from grace. Their eyes burning into mine—slowing ticking bombs, so I'd still have time—to feel every suffering, the state of my miserable hovel.

Where are you?

I am in the middle. Of being lost and being found. I am in the pilgrim of my dreams—a wayfayer in the desert.

"Where the shoreline meets and the horse howl at the water's coldness, I will find you there."

I am a tourist in the spot—where the light could not be found; as I walk and walk, I realized, this is who I am becoming.

To find you in the desert as a wayfayer—in different times: a traveler, ahead of time—a butterfly in the coming age.

A warrior in the cage; a threat to them: the shadows in the desert.

"Where the shoreline meets and the horse howl at the water's coldness, I will find you there."

To find you is to be lost.
To be found is to be miserable.
To be whole is to be broken.

And there yet, I found you.
Being lost means being found.
Lyner 12h
My thoughts could run a marathon
Faster than Usain Bolt
But they can't focus
All over the place
From here                                                                  
                                                                   To there
Up high

And down low
but they never stay GROUNDED
My words f l o a t away from me
Like balloons set loose by a child

"You don't care," they say
I care too much
I care to the point of pain
Am I enough yet?
I would cut myself open
Rip out my heart
How much of me is too much?
Mona 20h
i was born
i lay in a cot
my heart beat rang
i sang and i sang
i gave my voice away
as i matured
naively i was lured
into adulthood
without a hood
naked, i stood
out of breath
no stability
looked for divinity
but nothing concrete
looked back
empty and bleak
but my eyebrows were on fleek
to an ideal
i ride
but i never lay still
i dreamt
but dreaming is to ****
**** reality
**** your own insanity
**** your own vanity
no baby
please keep yo "sanity"
Lara 20h
I am running around on circles
Can’t get my thoughts organized

Is this the circle of life?

I seem to be overthinking
Overthinking and overthinking

I just can’t stop
What am I doing?
What should I do?

Telling me to stop overthinking does not help

I have no control

Overthinking controls me in circles
I correct my own grammar.
Never anyone else’s.
Not out loud, anyway.
Line from my book: Lifeline byFS (a work in progress)
Out there, in the middle of nowhere,
I woke up and noticed I found a home.
“On a block of ice? Or a piece of stone?
Either way, I think this would suffice.”
Away from everyone. Away from myself.
Right there. Out there.
In the middle of nowhere.
Line from my book: Lifeline byFS (a work in progress)
A connection that’s so profound
That can’t be explained with mere words
A bond that is incomprehensible
A link that can last and will never break
A relationship that is authentic
One that is genuine to the core
A connection that’s real
Is what I’m looking for
dempsey 1d
how can you teach two boys
that they can hold guns
but not hold hands?
how can you tell young girls
that boys can't keep it in their pants
at the sight of a shoulder, a leg
a carefully placed strap
they cannot control themselves?
you tell these kids they'll inherit the earth,
like the meek, but you clog the air
with smoke and gas and **** animals to eat
and give someone power
who tells people to inject bleach.
the world is going crazy, so you
stuff the train cars with people who
are meant to save lives but
get germs on them, so they'll die.
a man dies, and you threaten the lives
of people who protest his death -
beat them, push them down, until their spirit
is broken. well, you can never break our spirit.
you save the people who
why do you feel the need to
have everything your way?  you know,
just like everyone else, you'll die too.
i know this is a very strong poem but i feel like it had to be shared. i could write so much more, only i want it to simply convey the message i am putting out
Somewhere inside,
a little girl
has been writing
this entire time.
She is running out of space,
but is too afraid to leave.
I opened my notebook to save her.
I can see her now.
between the lines
my pen is trying
pulling apart.
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