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Harley Hucof Jul 2020
It is from your synthetic relations that i learn
what to make of, and how to observe
the traumas that once occured.

Transformed,
Translated into words
To lighten up the burden
Of the destiny flowing in my nerves.

Chosen for me or impregnated
The path is created
Before the men that walks it to get mutated
Together in your synthetic relashionships.


Words Of Harfouchism
Aliens are the new religion
Grey Apr 2020
All I wanted was to talk:
to have another acknowledge these events
That tore my life to shreds.

When I did speak,
It was instantly flipped or ignored.
So I said enough, I'm not doing this anymore.

I will not give to those who only take
Or to hear my stories so they can create
A reality which would leave me
The center of their entertainment.

I am not a joke,
Nor is my life at any rate,
A show.

I admit I was clingy, I admit I lost connections
I thought were worthy of pursuing
Because I needed support early in the friendship.

They didn't know
I was in anguish
Or perhaps they didn't care.
Either way,
I was left standing there.

My screams were muted,
My statements unheard.
The help I needed
Was blatantly ignored

I'm now silent
To prevent these losses
Because apparently people
Don't know how to handle these problems
Chase Pamplin Aug 2019
Traumatized me, traumatized you. We’re all hiding behind scar tissue, only our outer personalities are seen. Procrastinating on and off the scene, mentally we are in our own heads publishing these new issues. We want to be heard! Re-writing the script while wanting to be first but we keep coming in third. These eyes have seen to many lies, “what are you doing? What are you up to?” Typing typing typing, erasing erasing erasing, coming up with no replies. Why? We’re out here trying to stand on ten toes, masking our emotions has become a cooping mechanism that we are now pros. We have mentally shut down! we treat drinking like a therapy session. Please may I have another round.

CP.
Experiences have us all messed up in some kind of way.
why is it important for authors to recount past traumas in their work?
what do you do
when all your bad memories seem to lurk
in your mind, resurfacing,
causing you to relive the past that only seems to give
you negativity, no tranquility?

dont let your traumas fester
manifest into some kind of monster
one that you cant tame yourself
we had to write a speech about why its important for authors to write about traumas so i made a lil poem for it!

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