At times life drags you down a pit
It kicks you ******* the chest
Tipping you over the edge of that abyss
Into that world where dreams fade and vanish
Into that dystopia,
Where the blossoming flower of purpose withers,
Leaving only remnants to remind of the once technicolor petals.
You may feel down and out
You may feel like you can’t get out
You may feel worthless
You may feel like no one will ever love you
You may feel homeless
You may feel selfish
You may feel confused
You may feel passion
You hold on for the ride
The day will come
Things will be alright
A string will have imperfections and little threads that poke out and look ****
Some threads even hurt the structure of how strong the string is
And that's ok they all do if you want you can try to fix the thread and put it back
And a lot of the time it will work and the string will be stronger than ever
The important thing to do when an impefection occurs in a string and refuses to be fixed is to
Now this part is important
Cut. It. Off.
Cutting a thread of is hard almost all the time
But if you tried to wound it back in with the others as best you can and it is just to stubborn
Cut. It. Off.
I wish I learned to cut off threads earlier. Not saying it's a good thing but it'll be better for everyone in the long run.
Dirt crumbled at my feet, as moths finish off my sleep. My whole skull is uncovered, unconcerned with greener leaves.
Will this comfort ever stay? I'm losing hope as it decays. Decorate my heart with iris, because its carcass has faded grey.
Lace my body for the crows; nest my ribs, and clean my bones. Residue of torture palpitates, from within its catacombs.
Who knows when winter will come, so freeze your lungs until they're numb. Because breathing isn't worth this turmoil, and I think the dark swallowed your Sun----
All feedback is welcome and appreciated :)
One more week,
I didn’t spend the time I should.
One more day,
I didn’t say what needed said.
One more hour,
So you can tell me those things I already know.
One more minute,
So I can tell you the same.
One more second,
Of that silent, perfect love.
I am a shell
Someone I used to know
A memory of a shattered soul
I used to be someone
Who had something to say
Someone had an opinon
I used to see the day
Sunlight, on my face
The clue clouds
And even sometimes, the rain
I used to
I am a shell now
So many burns and horror stories
So many heartbreaks
My chest of drawers
My infinite sorrows
I let them go unnoticed
They never see the surface
I hide them on purpose
I am shell now
An empty home
Looking for a new place
A new place to hang my hat
Before hard times pass;
Life stinks and hurts,
Worse than a wound oozing pus.
In such times....
Its always wise to realise that;
Every kind of pain,contains gain.
So choose to endure,
Because such times are always
An opportunity to bloom and mature......
My very first poem on HP :D
— The End —