Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wouldn’t call us friends
but we’re close, intimate even -
they’ve known me longer,
know me better than anyone.

They read me, clearly see
the full back-catalogue of me,
understand me, often better than me
and they know just how to wound me,
seam doubt in me, refusing a stitch of mercy.

Sometimes I think them merciless,
sometimes merely vindictively honest,
but I cannot deny their knowledge,
their perceptiveness.

Nevertheless, there are essentials
that their words do lack
- imagination
- hope
- kindness
and the one furthest from their grasp
- forgiveness.

And so, I pay greater heed
to the friend whose words brim with love,
whose knowledge of me is greater,
whose patience is longer, and who sees
who I am in Him
- forgiven.
John 15:15
“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.”
2 Corinthians 5:17
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."
The Calmness, the Stillness,
the chill of despair,
the voices of the unknown,
of the Whispers in the Air!!

Are you hearing the coded messages,
of what they are trying to say???, or
are you still trying to decipher them,
this very single day, or
maybe you are unaware of them, and
you are letting them go astray!!

They may seem to be a bit eerie,
of what you are trying to hear,
these Whipsers in the air,
they tend to bring to you fear,

You're incoherent of
its understanding, but
It Doesn't seem to make any sinse,
Your mind and thoughts are boggled and
Filled with so much suspense,

So, just listen to the voices,
with certainty and with care,
There is a message you need
to comprehend,
This whispers in the Air!!


B.R.
Date: 5/30/2025
If I ever disappear,
Don't go looking,
I will be long gone,
Far away with the winds.

But if you wish to hear me,
Lend an ear to the early breezes,
You will hear me voice,
Calling out, softly singing.
Long away with the winged birds.
inkedsolace Mar 23
Give me a break,
This shouldn't have to be such a hot take,
Stop making me feel worthless and fake,
You're grinding my head into a medium rare steak,
****** and broken to throw into the lake,
Where rumors can drink from to cure their slake,
And I'll end up at night lyin' awake,
Wondering when comes dawn's jailbreak,
Stayin' up 'til my head starts to ache,
Stayin' up 'til my heart starts to break,
...Why can't you see what's at stake?

x i. solace
Jeremy Betts Mar 16
Hey you there

It's not just me in here
Oh how I wish you could hear the coconspirator
Or see in a single tear how loud the fear of fear truly can be
And how I'm so rarely allowed to steer

I AM a dark passenger, MY dark passenger
A near prison like constricting atmosphere with no breathing apparatus gear
Life can be so impossibly cavalier
Death is always closer than it should ever appear, regardless of the mirror

In my story I have the glory of a lone fourth musketeer
With a crowded asylum between each ear
So many questions but not a single agreed upon answer will appear
And I've yet to meet this so called infallible puppeteer

Though the hierarchy is clear, it passes through an auctioneer
"Punish thee if thy finds I should ever veer from thy holy 'engineer'"
Hell, they can stay put like a headlight frozen deer
I'd rather be allowed to be the one to disappear

I did not ask to be here

©2025
Misstic Mar 13
I wrote about
Heartache
Not following your
Past mistakes,

But, what about
The girls or boys
Getting *****,

Losing innocence
As such young age,
Not even
Knowing
What they lost?

Gained horrors
For a life range
Used
As toys for
A meaningless
Exchange,

Monster intoxicated
With lust
Roaming these streets,
That’s the real issue
No my clothes
You pin,

What a bad joke
Life is?
Instead being
Kind
We being stripped
From our
Dignity.
Misstic Mar 13
I wrote about
Heartache
Not following your
Past mistakes,

But, what about
The girls or boys
Getting *****,

Losing innocence
As such young age,
Not even
Knowing
What they lost?

Gained horrors
For a life range
Used
As toys for
A meaningless
Exchange,

Monster intoxicated
With lust
Roaming these streets,
That’s the real issue
No my clothes
You pin,

What a bad joke
Life is?
Instead being
Kind
We being stripped
From our
Dignity.
Amir Murtaza Feb 23
She loves to play with colors,
and her favorite is blue.
She loves her blue jeans,
a gift from her mother.

Her mother works
in a garment factory,
where women are paid
less than men.

She dreams of a world
where colors don’t fade with injustice.
Gender-based inequality thrives where rights are unequal and voices go unheard.
Next page