One, two, three, four,
Look who's here at the door!
Five, six, seven, eight,
I hope it's them, they're pretty late-
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
Their coat goes up on the shelves.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,
I hope they see a guillotine.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,
Now they're here, I'll hurt them plenty.

No use counting any more,
It's just making my brain quite sore.
I simply had to tell you more
Of they who turned life into war.
Made happy thinking quite a chore,
Right at my face they swore and swore.
Everything nice, hidden in a drawer,
Or scattered everywhere, all over the floor.
May someday beach up upon the shore,
May I fall asleep without a snore.

A person who may or may not exist.

It ended sadly
He married some other girl
Good girls finish last

Jessica Dec 4

flowers bloom
flowers grow
flowers live
flowers die

flowers start as little buds
tinier than a centipede
they grow into beautiful living things
hoping to find their place in the world
they live out the remainder of their lives
depending solely on themselves
then they shrivel up
lose their strength
lose their passion
lose their will
and they die
they leave the earth
the place that didn’t help them
that didn’t care about them
the place that let them die

Jessica Dec 4

You are fat
You are ugly
You are weak
You are pathetic
You are repulsive
You are revolting
You are rude
You are annoying
You are clingy
You are a bitch
Why do you have friends?
Why do people like you?
You ruin everyone’s life
You are taking up space on this earth
You don’t deserve anything good to happen to you
Go ahead, one more cut
You deserve the pain
This is what you get

Your body makes people wish they were blind
Your voice makes people wish they were deaf

You disgust me
You make me want to kill myself

Do us all a favour an commit suicide
So we can finally be rid of you

After
I found her in our house
I burnt it to the ground
one million times over.

That place
built for you
with mine own cells.
Created
with lavender walls
and rose petal front doors,
and you
hiding her among the weeds.

Constructing a home
out of paper airplanes
and coloured ties.
My heaven,
and yours,
frolic in the garden.

When I found her in our home,
our home became a house.
Her body
more than this mattress fills.
Her perfume
swells the vents.
This house
comes alive with her
prowess.
And I hate it here.

When
I found her in my house
all Hell
erected beneath me.
oh,
the futility
trying to kill someone
who is already dead to you.

-Dead husband, beautiful mistress.
-M.C.
Higgs Boson Dec 1

Why do my dreams succumb to these redundant thoughts?

Leaving me in sempiternal dismay.

Although, the perks of being in my shoes are largely prominent,

I still find myself self loathing umpteen number of times.

I cannot be satiated with who I am and what I’ve become.

I beg you to find me a way out of this labyrinth of hatred.

Fox Friend Dec 1

The blessings in my life
are overwhelming
when I really think about them,
but for some reason
each morning
feels heavier than the one before.

Why can't I just be happy?

My heart wanders
away with this thought
until the emotional waves
of pain and heavy sadness
carry it back to its place.

I cry -
not because I am lacking anything,
but because I cannot count
all of my lucky stars
(for they are far too numerous),
and yet,
I am still not happy.

Abby Jo Dec 1

Every day, every week, every month that passes by we drift farther away from our old normal
The new normal starts to settle and make itself at home
It's over stayed it's unwelcomed arrival.
I ask it politely to leave but His plans dive deeper in and slowly washes over all of mine.
The pain tastes salty as it pours out of my heart
His will be done, not mine
With the wake of the morning, the sun shining in so bright, it forces me to rise, my thoughts flooding right back as soon as I open my eyes
"When will this feel like ages ago", that song plays over for the 30th time. Hoping one day I'll sing along and not cry
The coffee tastes darker, the wind feels cooler, the view where I seek to find Him
The seasons are changing but I'm not ready, each outlet refuses to shine

Abby Jo Dec 1

I hope you’re happy
You’ve made a mess out of me
As I lie here empty
Cursing my memories for flooding in
This smile isn’t forced but it’s overstayed it’s welcome
Happiness is something I’ve made up in my own way
Real happiness won’t be found here.
I’m far too damaged.
I’m beyond repair
Why do I even try?  
There’s nothing left to me.

Rot

My soul has started to rot
Charred black by the flame of heartbreak
Cold as the night you left
I don't think I'm breathing anymore
The feeling of dread carried in with the wind through every open window
Every shadow whispers your name
I feel myself fading as fast as you left
I don't feel the drive and passion anymore
My happy place has crumbled to dust, broken fragments of reality
The air I breath poisons my lungs as I fall faster and faster into the hellish hole that appears on every path
My heart as empty as the canyons that used to make me feel free
My breath as cold as the pouring rain that used to send me to sleep
My soul as rotten as the core of the witches apple
The witch that has cursed me
Cursed me with the boulders I carry on my shoulders
Cursed me to lie when I say I'm fine

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