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snipes Feb 7
the water is up to my neck
and all I have is my last breath
dying isn’t tragic
I’m just traveling as
this air is my boat
I shall sail to an area
I may already well know
If you find my body floating
just know I’m finally belonging
Alpha Jan 13
So this is where it'll end.
This is where the sky will fall.
After all the gods died here,
So why shouldn't we all?
We've fought for so long,
It's time to get some rest.
We've done all we can,
We've done our best.
But when it's not enough
A sacrifice must be made
To alter the cruel path
That the devil has laid.
Not honour, nor money
Will redeem our reward.
Only a life will do
Where no shield can ward.
So this is where it'll end.
This is where we will be doomed.
This is the final battle.
For a new world under a new moon.
Cody Haag Nov 2022
I'm caught in the middle,
Of someone else's game.
Twisted as hell,
I stay the same.

Try as I might,
There is no reward.
No lover to hold,
No future to look toward.

How long can I last,
In this diseased state?
How long can I pivot,
And avoid my fate?

The road will end
With an unfulfilled dream.
A man torn asunder
By his self-esteem.

Tears will be wept,
But nothing will be lost.
For I am an empty vessel,
Battered and tossed.
This one's about depression, suicidal tendencies, and looking toward a future you're certain will be desolate.
Laia Blackthorn Oct 2022
I need you to let me let you go
To keep the I'm sorry's deep in your soul
Get a heart of stone and slam every door
Don't regret or hope

Hold back your tears
and look away when I cry,
Set free all the memories
Don't cage them inside

Forget all my laughs
And the heartwarming smiles
Let me be another
You leave behind

Kiss someone's lips
And hold their hand
Every promise you give
Don't you dare break

I need this to be a farewell
Please, end this tragic tale
Let this be a poem for the brokenhearted
And never whisper my name again
I S A A C Sep 2022
haunted by your presence
your imprint in my powder
stamped on my heart forever
everything reminds me of you
I wish you didn’t matter
can’t even see pictures of me
without relating them to how you used to be
changed the way i see
pivotal in my evolution, delusional since rejection
been off the market, been on the grind
been second guessing
my part in the tragic fall, maybe i am not such a victim after all
maybe i am not so young and dumb after all
maybe i am better off
Kassan Jahmal Aug 2022
Hotel ***—of neighbours dealing in services, buying into
the idea of momentary love by the high purchases. It's like
swerving in traffic, avoiding real love and looking for some action.
Well out here relaxing, feels **** fun. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

On the other side, the creep behind the hole in the wall.
The married husband, setting up a *******. She's a young girl,
and a ****** to all—of what it costs to make it big. He's not so big, but will drive into her like a heavy rig. Pay her off, call a cab to
take her back home. Rinse himself, spray a little cologne to cover
up his immorals. And switch his clothes. What she doesn't know, won't hurt his wife at all. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

But she's in another room downstairs, getting tongue licks
downstairs—downtown. The young man isn't to proud, at least
with the fact he wasn't the first one pointing her down his south.
The fresh taste of adultery in their mouth—his pants are
half down. His business is hanging out; ready to close the deal of
an interesting affair. Then he'll kiss his girlfriend back at their house.
I know she's cheating on me too. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

The cheating girlfriend is actually over eating in another room
alone. With shoes off, to stand herself and her weight.
Running to the bathroom with a finger down her throat.
A little choke, and upbringing those distasteful words. Her body
isn't her worth, and doesn't feel like the one she deserves.
Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

These are the dark rooms, of all the stories in my head.
A couple stories high, to keep me up on my bed. They turn into
dreams, or have been premonitions for a later reality as it seems.

                                                         ­            Who really knows?
Filomena Aug 2022
I hope it works out for you.
I hope your desires come through.
  As I'm lying in bed,
  The thoughts run through my head.
I guess thinking is all I can do.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 33.
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