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Miss Me Jul 30
The paths taken
   Feel so unforgiving
To hear the words
   You say are true
Stand strong and linger
    With a bitter taste

Can't you tell what's
    Right or wrong
And if the affects
     Lay within my reach
Just yesterday
     You pulled me in to help
          Feel safe
And now your like
   The Cheshire cat
       And his foolish grin
How can you wear two
     Faces at a time
Which one do you feed
     At any given time
Sometimes, it gets to you,
no matter how hard you try not to care.
No matter,
how many times you deny it doesn't hurt.
No matter,
how many times you reiterate that it doesn't matter.
It hurts.
It hurts because it still matters,
and at times the thought of it mattering
hurts even more.
Sometimes all these things add on,
and you begin to break.
That's when you finally accept to yourself,
It hurts.
Matthew Feb 4
not moving

"it would have
only led a life
   of pain."

it didn't
matter to

It's only
the rain      

why do Things  

"to cause

I want
to   remember This
Can we build a grave  
The rain makes Her cry  
"it is only just the rain.."  
  Please we need to  
How I see this poem.  It's about two people with two conflicting ideas about death.  The little one feels that death should be remembered, and older one feels that we should forget death as it only causes pain.  The main feelings of this poem for me is to remember death.

I put that in how their speech is written.  the little one capitalizes what he feels he feels are important like the beginning of a sentence and a words like her.  He also doesn't feel the need for periods.  The older one on the other hand feels that everything is useless.  so he doesn't capitalize and he always puts periods to remember that things should end.
Sat on the end of my bed today head slump down
eyes to the ground miles away In thought
Oh so
distant and almost feeling of being detached from reality
A state of nothingness
sometimes It seems as If I'm living on borrowed time watching
clock on the wall slowly ticking my life away because I can't sleep clock
been knocked down too many times since Helen passed away
I'm beginning to dought my ability to fight back or more to the point If I really want
And all you good people out there who sadly suffer to from depression will only know to
the constant fight every day of one's life just to survive to the end of each
Oh how easy It to fall from grace and when down and out the struggle to try to pick yourself up whilst still being kicked by society that only care for the
but no love for the poor disadvantaged of our so-called rich country my heart goes out to all who suffer bless them all for hope
one day they have their justice there suffering will be seen by the blinded people of this government and they will be given the respect they so richly deserve
these are the true people of our society for they know what suffering really
Those of you who read will gather I don't care as much
for this life as maybe  I would have If my darling was still
Some people In our society would say I should apologise for my outspoken words but never would I apologise for what Is clearly the
Really down today you fall from grace though no fault of your own and society kicks you while your down and It's one hell of a struggle to get back up
NothingInMotion Aug 2018
Take it to the bridge,
That's where it's meant to be,
It's meant to be remembered,
By lowly lock and key.

It's meant to stay forever,
It should never be forgotten,
It was there the entire time,
Yourself, not nearly so often.

It stayed there through the cold,
It stayed there through the rain,
It meant to stay with you,
Yet you never walked that bridge again.
A-McIntyre May 2018
We never had enough when we were young.
We never needed much, but the exact amount was unknown.
We never got enough; toys food or clothes.
We didn't need that much, so "barely" was the most.

We never got enough of your time.
We didn't understand, the eldest not yet nine.
We didn't get enough, affection or warmth.
We never took for granted, but your time spent was short.

We didn't want more than enough, somehow understanding all you had.
We never asked for much: to play or share or cuddle.
We never got that, you liked to stay in your bubble.
We didn't ask for this, to be born, or brought into your life.

We didn't choose the love, or the lack thereof.
We didn't need the money, you hid away from us.
We had enough for us four, your greed was just because.
We had enough, We had enough, We had enough.

We had enough time, to learn proper affection.
We had enough vocabulary for simple conversation.
We had enough feelings, to know you didn't care.
We were not selfish, so why didn't you share?

Was it that we weren't enough, you needed a new man?
Was it that we weren't calm enough, it got out of hand?
Was it that you didn't have enough, of the finer things in life?
Was it that you didn't think enough, before becoming an underage wife?

Now we live out our lives, believing we aren't enough.
Now we live out our lives, always trying to be more, never being enough.
Now we live out our lives, working hard at enough.
Now we live out our lives, still not understanding the problem wasn't us.
the song of my existance.
Chitransh Gaurav May 2018
She is caressed and tickled faintly
Moves her limbs swiftly against its currents
Seeks to fend off the darkness that surrounds
But is too uncaring to pay heed

Pay heed to those floating by
Disturbing their reveries
Dreams they dream with their eyes wide open
Gazing at the stars, the skies pitch black
For their dreams to realize
They pray to the stars falling
To holy spirits, to Zeus in the gauzy haze
Ignoring her as she drowns

Wishing with lust for glitters and gold
They float all over all around
Blocking the shimmering moonlight
The miniscule ray of hope that she had
Worse, she got vertigo
The waters wash away with whirlpools
In effervescence all bonds that existed
Now withered and weak
The water of totality
Incorporeal, incorporating totality
With mediocre attempts
Barely chafing composure of the surfers
Surfers in trance, penancing after their dreams
Somnolent and drooling in lullaby
Unmindful of the drowning damsel
She is about to succumb

A drunk sailor passes by
Intoxicated in psychedelics, tipsy
With languid gait and slow movements
The world melting before him
With eyes closed he sees the unseen
Vivid serene sceneries and warping visuals
That you and I call hallucinations
Purple, pink and scarlet with spirals
And other ineffable amorphous shapes
For his senses are hindered
That he outreaches for help, that’d cost
Cost him his own dreams and adventures
Dreams to cover the seven seas
With eleven bottles of ***

A downhaul he extends for her
All he sees is a beautiful woman in pain
All he assumes is a paragon of virtue
A company to fill in his solitude
He helps her aboard.
Appalled by apathy of the world
She impels him out of his boat
And treads on alone
To conquer the world
A world of despair

Somewhere among the dreamers
Floating on their surfboards
The bored pirate sees it all
In ephermal tranquillity
For him, “All the world’s a stage”
Innate truths of the world are clear
Thus he just observes from a distance
Like an all seeing eye of the illuminati
And he doesn’t dream
i'm sorry for the things i've said
i'm sorry for the words that bled
from your severed heart
it is a curse that i must bear
i speak without a whim or care
i think not of my love's despair
only that it will survive
for it is love

like claws they work to rip and tear
until your love
and there
you awaken
and I can only say...
I'm sorry
Jay Lewis Feb 2018
Black tie,
Black suit.
I'm Thinking of you.
Black dress,
Black shoes.
Good god Girl.
I'm missing you.

Where are you?
Where did you go?
Lord don't take her,
her body's not even cold.
I need you.
Please don't go.
Take my hand.
Let's grow old.
Don't give up
on me just yet.
At least wait
until my final breath.

These are words,
He never said.
Maybe he'll say them
when I drop dead.
Michael Ryan Aug 2017
There is beauty in tears--
trembling to the floor
they represent passion
the truest expression
of magnificence
the meaning of human
rest inside these feelings.

This is our fantasy
the wonderment:
of watching their pain,
bearing themselves,
and perching each step
nearer to the fifteen floor edge,
that extends itself to the bottomless
apartment complex.

The stangers are preying from below
just out of sight, but close enough
to hear an echo of cries
bouncing off the empty space between them.

This is some form of release
the 'rubbernecks' sing a song akin to Kumbaya,
but instead of seeking harmony
they are predators only desiring
of blood and flesh
to distill their minds
of indiscretions.

They are burdened
by their own unflinching enthusiasm
and ravenous emptiness.

Displacing myself from my perch
I feel an unpleasant revel growing through the crowd,
as I clear their 'emptiness'--
it is always an unpleasant sight
when seeing it all come to an end.
Stop and help; not stop and stare.
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