Six boys in blue are walking by,
Find a child who'll do or die.
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
They were caught off by surprise.
Five boys in blue are walking by,
With a child who cannot cry,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
He looks into the flaming skies.
Four boys in blue are walking by,
They use the child to petrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Boys in blue say their goodbyes.
Three boys in blue are walking by,
Use the child to horrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Pumping lead into both eyes.
Two boys in blue are walking by,
They shoot the red boys, eye for eye,
Then one dies to feed the flies,
Screaming just to end their lives.
A boy in blue is walking by,
He knows they're coming, says goodbye.
Then he dies, to feed the flies,
The child ends him to terrorize.

I am One,
My god is the sun.
One and two,
Now I hate you.
One, two, three,
A killing spree.
One, two, three, four,
I like this one, she's my whore.
One, two, three, four, five,
Very few of us survive.
One, two, three, four, five, six,
Maybe it's cuz you're fucking pricks.
One, two, three, four, five, six seven,
Each a sin which keeps me from heaven.

One, two, three, four,
I remember life before.
Five, six, seven, eight,
I'm not someone to agitate.
One, two, three, four,
Bring him to me, shut the door,
Five, six, seven eight,
Only death will liberate.
One, two, three, four,
Born to live in times of war.
Five, six, seven, eight,
I was made to mutilate.
One, two, three, four,
Vile and evil at my core.
Five, six, seven, eight,
I need screams to meditate.

One, two, three,
Beneath the tree,
Beg forgiveness, your final plea.
Four, five, six,
Breaking the sticks,
Pray to your broken crucifix.
Seven, eight,
Escape your fate,
I'm following you through the gate.
Nine and nine,
The stars align,
Ripping out your fucking spine.

Three is for how many times you broke my heart.
The damage had already been done, still my soul ached.
Only it never broke, it just bruised.

Two is for how many times I asked if you loved me.
Both times you said yes, you lied.

One is for how many girls I’ve ever loved.

it worries me,
three a.m.

and i'm not
sure how many

times i can write
this poem

I'm back!

One, two, two, three,
Counting down to killing me.
four, five, five, six,
Rowing down the River Styx.
Seven, eight, eight, nine,
These emotions aren't mine,
ten, ten, ten, ten,
Die to see the light again.

A few weeks past by of the same thing

Painful pulling at the heart

She was being torn apart

With Jack, she wanted a start

But she didn't want an end

She was trying to defend

Isabelle didn't want to be hurt

She didn't want him to be a flirt

Jake would hurt her

He doesn't understand

Can't let him in

He'll fade

He won't love me

It's just a charade

With Joe, a possible future can be made

With Jake, for her, it was uncertain

Who is he?

What kind of person?

Isabelle was hiding behind a curtain

I'll hurt him...

love is at times is unpredictable which can make it incredibly heinous and confusing

I walk these halls and bitter cold rooms
With nothing but the thought of you
And sometimes I begin to wonder
If you did the things, I ponder.
Did you hurt a person badly?
Did you hurt a person, sadly-
I cannot stop these from coming-
Soon begin to fear the following.
Will we last a lifetime like we said?
As we lie down far away in bed.
Nothing goes down, nothing went wrong,
You stay polite as I think of this song.
How did I choose you?
My thoughts begin to shrink;
Nothing in my mind will go in sink-
And now I'm scared, a rhythm plays,
A song I know too well and still I stay.
I love the way to talk to me,
The words you say the way you speak,
And still I wonder why I think of it,
You say it's okay, and we both just sit.
We're quieter than what we were before,
Because I think of deception and of her.
The lies you say she told to them,
The lies you say, they still condemn-
And now I start to cry and hold a tear,
A tear that falls along beside my fear;
Of you I try to trust your word, your voice,
But the more I look, the better choice:
Is this all an act, a dirty game?
Upon a heart of darkness littered pain?
Am I in love, am I in Hell? I feel insane,
A story tell, about a long and ruined road,
A road I walk with me alone.
I say I love you, I say I do,
Questioning my reality too-
Holding your name way up high,
Should I really? Or should I,
Just say the truth and end the lies?
Before we die, before we die...
I want you gone, I need you still,
Just say my thoughts, I have the pills-
I love you, love you more than life!
For this is true I take my knife,
Hold it to my throat and sigh,
I love you, and to this goodnight.
I need you dead, I need you dead,
I see you in the mirror little tear I shed,
Am I dead? God am I dead?!
Is this hell, my Hell just as they said?!
This consant feeling of lifelessness,
I want it gone, need it to end!
I need me to be okay but the more I talk there is just more pain!
Condeming myself, holding myself accountable,
For things I didn't do I am not responsible!
And the feeling of guilt corresses my cheek,
I did nothing hear the words I speak!
It's all my fault I say to me,
I blame myself for I decieve,
Myself and only me, I know my pain it will not leave!
A poem speaks the rath of me,
The rath of me, myself and greed,
It is something I do not behold,
I show my kindness to the world!
And still I talk so mean about myself,
The thoughts I speak hang of my shelf.
They ask why I speak badly of me,
Do they not know what I see?
I am crazy I am sick,
Twisted in the mind I knit,
A woven scarf that I hang by,
A piece of thread to watch the light die.
A needle in my heart and lungs,
Pins and scissors scar the memories of fun!
Oh I am not normal I scream aloud
When no one else is near, around.
I narrate life in third person too.
And still these thoughts were ceased by you.

Kate Gilleo Jul 22

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
The hour where naught is awake but
Lovers and dreamers
And those deemed too far gone by the rest of us
To which we send a wilting flower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And I sit upon a lush coven of cotton and broken dreams
And peer into the crisp, aging pages of a crisp, aging story
To dissolve away the alms that haunt my hollow tower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And I mourn
I mourn the loss of love
And the loss of hope
I mourn a loss I have known so well
As well as a loss I have never myself felt
Tied, side by side, in a waking melancholy sour.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And doves less mournful than I have passed on to sleep
And he, as I dream, is far away and dead to me
Still dear to me
And I reach out, into the darkness of the night
And end the mourning hour.

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