My undoing is you.
My unbecoming is certain.
I had my hopes up. But you undid them too.
My undoing is yours.
You strip me till I'm plain and cold, filled of nothingness.
The meaning is differed
the undoing of history
the undoing of life.
My soul is filled of gold. It's getting chipped but the undoing of your cold hands.
Your my undoing.
My my unbecoming

The whir of the engine
In the dark night
Marquees blur as the car drives by
Night lights flash and fade

High on music
Lights and sound
Feeling alone in a crowded room
Bodies all around
Alive and loud but without a sound

Booming beats
Spreading numb
Becoming someone I shouldn't become
Unraveling in revelry
The threads are undone

your sadness is showing,
put it away.
no one wants to see
your depression today.

it's not time for that,
some might say,
its so unbecoming
to act that way.

your anxiety is showing,
tuck it in.
the world shows no interest
in what's under your skin.

take a deep breath,
that's where you begin,
or, that's what they say
with a pat and a grin.

your illness is showing,
keep it away.
no one is interested
in that anyway.

but by letting it fester,
and by letting it stay,
it might make me
disappear some day.

It shatters,
Into tiny green shards.
Peaceful garden turned rubble.
He is like dirt, he likes the ruin.
When he felt the pain of seeing,
He knew,
He saw it all happen.
Lithe form merging with rough hands,
He sighs now, remembering,
All that happened before,
All he had seen,
It didn't happen twice, thrice, nor six times,
Times are more, his mind has grown more,
His heart pumps rage more.
Rue, crumble, contort, free!
All he felt before,
And all that came now, he let them be.
The rage, blue-flames, wrath,
His unbecoming and rebirth,
Then ashes and flames,
Now sin and woe,
Next tears and rubble,
And finally silence,
Terrible silince, terribly wrong.
He is effluence
Effluence is wrath.
                                    -MoonFirefly

Where the whole that was
has finally
fragmented,
descending in an open, unremarkable blaze.  

And so pieces of me shall collide
with the ground,
implanting fractures
few shall discern.  

And the winds of days
and nights will continue to
persuade the dirt unto me
so my morose roots will not grow,
infesting a world undeserving
of my inadvertent pollution.