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Liam Wales Mar 2016
A devil stands on my both my shoulders
They whisper, "just do it, no one cares anyway"
So I take this weapon of self destruction
And cut away to bleed out the guilt until I feel nothing at all...
Sarah Feb 2016
If your thoughts become your enemies, your demons will follow you.

If your words become bullets, your mind is your weapon.

Your in a war. But who's your foe?
S S Jan 2016
I have a special superpower
Shall I tell you what.

Let us make a game of this
I'll let you guess my lot.

When the night is ripe and freshly raw
You can brandish me about.

Throw me at your demons dark
And their presence you will doubt.

When the piercing light spills over hills
You can point me at the flame.

Watch the rise of steam unsheathed
None can beat me at my game.

Can you guess who I am now?
Or what I can do for you?

I'll bet you wish you had me now
But you haven't got a clue.

When your string of life drops all its beads
You can roll me on the floor.

Pick ones you choose from off my skin
Rest will meld into my core.

I can be your crutch when you limp unheld
A pillow when resting your dreams.

I can be your sword slashing unseen foes
Or cup filled from meandering streams.

When all is done and tucked in its place
Fling me far to sightless edge.

I won't intrude but hold onto hope
You'll remember where to dredge.

Do you know what my power is?
Do you have me figured out?

My power lies in your need for me
I transcend both hope and doubt.

With mercurial blood
I'm a formless form
I am what you need me to be.
Close your eyes and
Summon my being
I am exactly what you see.
Gracie Knoll Jan 2016
The metaphor is the most powerful weapon at a poets fingertips
Besides the pen it is what gives life and meaning to the words
It is our fingerprint
It is our double edged sword

It gouges into meaning and extracts the bare minimum
Then it coils around it like a serpent
And squeezes the life from it onto our paper
Behold! The magic of the pen
Leal Knowone Dec 2015
Pick up your weapon! Grab the pen.this one can't go unwritten, should I say it again?
ShadowWolf Nov 2015
When you fight you have to pick a weapon
most just use their hands
tools that are good at building but better at destroying
some choose weapons
something that makes a bang
when you swing you hear the sickening thud as it hits its target
but I have a much more powerful weapon
sharp as any knife
more powerful than any gun
and more silent than death
They say that the most dangerous weapons are held in a holster or a sheath
but I say the most dangerous weapon lies behind your teeth
my weapon of choice is one we are all born with
one we all have, but we don’t even know how to use it
it can **** and destroy
faster than lightning
and hotter than fire
the black tar that drips from our lips with the ability to blot out any light
Words that burn themselves into our skin
a mark that never leaves
because when scars fade and bruises heal those marks are always there
like a bleeding **** that will never go away.
Cade Sep 2015
A beautiful weapon,
forged in the heat of,
incredible fire,
now worn, by years of use,
and terrible abuse,
But still sharp enough,
to **** you,
Mary K Sep 2015
these emotions inside
building up up up
until the fire raging inside of me is screaming to be let out
and suddenly i let go, just let go
channel the rage and fear and despair and hope
i scrape up every last bit of hope from between my bones
and unleash the fire on the world
suddenly everything is ablaze and the only sound in my ears
is the howling wind
working with me, doing what i ask
and making the flames rise higher higher higher
and making the fire spread quicker
until a moment passes and i can feel with every ounce of my body
that every part of the world is burning like the sun
the water of the ocean is replaced with the inferno of my mind
every city is engulfed by the conflagration that i produced
i did this
and i look around and watch the world burning
see the whirls of fire spinning round round round
watch the people dying
and will the pain and guilt that i know should follow
except no wave of terror overcomes me
no grand realization that i'm the weapon of mass destruction
i know i should but i don't feel like the monster i know i am
nothing happens to me as the crackles and pops of the holocaust smoking suddenly explodes and the scorching flames shoot out in every direction
until my knees buckle from the depletion of my energy
and the tears i now cry fizzle on my cheeks
and when at last a teardrop reaches my nose and drips down
the fire fades to embers
and i'm forced to recreate the world out of the ashes
i might have gotten really into a book and then wrote a poem sorta based off of it and maybe i let my emotions take over and so maybe this isn't good but sorry for feeling things so deeply
Rochelle R Aug 2015
The ache

There is a longing in me
For you
Resonating deeply
Untouchably
With no release
Adequately
Freeing me
From the ache
You've made
Of me.

But fear

There's a weapon
Inside me
Proceeding we
A history, a knife
And puncture wounds
Highlight
The mistakes that are
My life.
Constantly reminding me
Of how sharp I am
By the scars I've left.

So ache

That's all there's left
Of me
Without you.
this is the fortune that comes with me
Wren Djinn Rain Jul 2015
"Each one I meet is the same. You cherish until absent, and then every word, every action passed turns to a weapon. Your respect vanishes with the feet that take the face away, as if moving the body moves the mind and heart in tow. Do you think I ever stop feeling? As if affection ends with the eye? Even black Death would not rend my love, while you and the rest alive color me and fill my cup with hate."

                                              -- Sky-Rend to Beryl at WasteGate
the extreme and the war for balance
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