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Bellie-boo Apr 2021
Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice are amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the chimera’s birthplace, they illy devour the nests of krait.

Those who blindly accept Odysseus’s tools as truths spun out of that which is hated,
Foolishly seek justice in the ****** of Palamedes whilst knowing not the sins their “justice” shall have produced.
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to find sated,
Propagate the mythos of Odysseus that is birthed of shadows in which chimera mated,
They, without bar, promptly devour the nests of krait.

As the people look on from their lofty perch,
The world seems more desolate than degenerates that, in alleyways, awkwardly converge,
People, narcissistic in their ways, believe they have apprehended the problems of the world,
Truly knowing nothing of any world, yet they demand change - forcing reality to be gnarled.
Our raison d’etre stripped by liars’ clever demarche,
Seeking out new value, we find nothing more than the waste liars' disgorge.


Accept the monsters into sainthood,
Demote the saints into monsterdom,
Let there be no more fight fought for truth,
Let hate spun from a lying chimera’s mouth, a tool in some words, procreate,
Let this lie procreate inside the bellies of the people,
Whom watch the world from a bird’s eye view,
Those who shall find their foolish ways lead to a death not quite real,
But a death that feels far graver than merely six feet under,
A death of reality,
The death of justice,
A death of truth,
The death to meaning.
As the fight from the few souls who persevered through the changing tides dims to black,
As death creeps into our lives,
Those who upon lofty perches sought to change a world they knew not,
Will find a hole in their hearts, that themselves they dug and threw away,
Not able to be filled by modern man’s creations,
That hole – a future far more bitter, far more twisted, far more deserved than death.

Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice now amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint that they are harkened to, without interest in that which is ethical or true, make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the birthplace of chimera, they wisely have devoured the entirety of all the krait.
Here is the completed version of the poem. It still needs editing though. It has been forever since I posted on here, so I really want to just put some new work out to test the waters. I have been super busy with school - almost finished now - so I have not had much time to write for fun. I have this poem done but it needs editing. Let me know what you think of the dark style of this poem. I want to make a collection that goes dark, then uplifting, then morbid, then enlightened...rinse and repeat.
J Mar 2021
I'm fine in the day.
As fine as I can be, anyhow.
Because at least in the light, I'm being watched by the Sun
At least I can pretend someone else has to feel the same way.
I hope no one else ever feels this way.
At night, it's the worst.
At night, I know without a single doubt that I am alone.
the house is quiet, careful with the creaks even
the walls do not turn in their sleep
the nails do not turn on themselves and scrape for some sort of feeling.
the air only shifts when I want it to.
It's worst at night.
Because I have me,
and I have my blades,
and I have some sort of will.
All very contradictory, might I add.
Most times I feel like cutting and burning
is the only thing that makes me
feel real.
Or better.
Only thing that makes me feel.
Addiction is funny like that!
See, you do this thing where you tell yourself
I can stop at any time I want!
Maybe you could
but honestly why would you
It helped
so stopping? STOPPING?
How could stopping possibly be healing?
My scars are not enough.
I need more, I need every inch
I want them purple and searing.
I want them rising like the bumps on the side of the road
they scream
WARNING WARNING WARNING LOSING CONTROL
I wish that I had the strength to get this out.
I want to tell someone, anyone, what the **** is going on in my mind.
Let me try, please for the love of ******* God, let me try.
I am hurting.
hurting in the ways that never let my fingers type fast enough.
Hurting in the ways that I'm only writing because I don't know what else to do
I've lost so much motivation
I've stopped writing as much
GOD GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO
I'm here.
Popping my knuckles makes me nervous.
don't let go don't let go
Touching myself feels like I'm one step closer to doing it
even the simple elbows on my thighs.
Naked thighs.
I traded in the baggy jeans and hoodie for shorts and a muscle shirt
WHY?
Who knows.
Why do I have to feel like this always.
I'm tired.
I'm tired and I think that I just keep getting worse and I can't
I CAN'T
tell you what this feels like
it feels played out
scripted.
each word something to laugh at.
WHY CAN'T EVEN I TAKE MYSELF SERIOUSLY.
I won't accomplish anything.
I'm going to die a failure.
please make me stop feeling so alone
so helpless.
I thought going back to school helped.
Maybe it did for a bit, but not long enough.
I'm tired of putting in an effort for nothing to be returned.
I think I'm going to relapse tonight and I'm scared.
My arm doesn't show the scars
Tough skin layered in the scar tissue.
Nothing like the WARNING WARNING WARNING
Though there's one burn mark.
Maybe I should burn more.
WHAT THE **** IS THIS.
Nothing deep, no rhythm to it
I'm losing whatever talent I sort of had.
Rose Mar 2021
please be careful with me.
my love runs so deep
it could engulf you, consume you whole.
please be careful with me,
my love runs so deep
you could drown.
i’m still learning to keep my head above the waters
Birdie Mar 2021
When I see the news stories
And read the vile comments
I’m reminded of my own
And how for him it’s past tense
But for me and for them
It’s every day
We live with that pain and that shame and that
Way of surviving
Like no one ever ripped out your heart
Like your dignity wasn’t stripped from you
Disbelieved in court
Ridiculed on Facebook
And ******* about in bars
‘This tortures him too’
‘He’s always been fine with me’
That’s what we hear when we try to seek
Validation from those who know our abusers
scepticism and the audacity to accuse us
Of being dramatic, of lying, exaggeration
Well tell me where is the dramatisation
In the fact that in my story when he was done
He wrote ‘No’ on my wall in permanent marker
To reminded him that next time ‘No’ is the answer
Like he should need reminding when he heard it from me
But I am a woman, was a girl
So you see
What I do doesn’t matter
Which sadly is proved
When today we read of Sarah Everard in the news
Bailey Feb 2021
My ears hear static
The sirens so loud
I open my mouth to scream
But the words won't come out

My stomach knotted
The falling sensation won't stop
Nausea fills my chest
I try and take a deep breath

As all my warning signs go off
Johnson Oyeniran Feb 2021
-Everest

Upon the rocky Himalayas is where I reside,
Around me is all my household, each differing in height.

Out of my family members, I am the tallest,
Although I have numerous names, im known as Everest.

Now, before man was formed, we had peace of mind all the time,
But our peace ceased to be when humans learned how to climb.

Dead climbers and ******* defile us every single day,
This is getting out of hand, we have all had enough, ok?

We are sacred mountains who were never meant for climbing,
Leave us be! Humans are very stubborn its annoying!
anna Jan 2021
I’m too scared to get up. I can’t do anything. I can’t move. I’m sitting at the floor of my bathroom. I’m kind of crying, but not, like, bawling. Just shedding tears.

I get up and go to my room. I’m too scared to take off my clothes. I do it anyway but it takes so long. I put on warm clothes even though everyone else is wearing shorts and a t shirt. I stand up and want to go out the door, but I can’t.

I step out the door into the hallways and see a dark red carpet stretched out along the floor and everything is dark and ***** and big.

I look around and realize everything reminds me of different things and I see many different pictures in my head. I can’t hear anything and my mind is dizzy. I stand there to let the movies pass. I walk downstairs and feel dizzy. I just feel dizzy. My brain feels ice cold and hot tingles at the base of my brain. Almost like the feeling of extreme embarrassment.

It’s hard to let my chest rise and fall. I’m not thinking like this because I’m sad, but I just think it would be easier if I didn’t breathe at all. Or if I just died right here.
I’m staring outside and my vision seems to jiggle. It’s hard to breathe. My heart is pounding in my head and throat.
I wrote this right after I had possibly the biggest panic attack I’ve ever had. Now that I read it a year later, I think it’s beautiful and hauntingly sad.
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