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Elicia Hurst Oct 2018
Master Blacksmith, I would like to commission a weapon most formidable. The mere mention of its legendary name shall strike fear in my foes.

{ In Hephaestus’ name, I craft you this }

So I will hone your heart,
Set fire to your lungs,
And conquer all your unanswered prayers
Into a battle roar.

I will boil these tears.  
A stinging, blinding pool at the bay of your eyes,
Use them for crystal clarity,
To sharpen the mind like a whetstone.

I will forge a sword from your fury,
And the hate of your enemies.
Temper it with thunder,
Cut a path out of illusions.

But not before this:
I crush your spirit a thousand times,
Force you to your knees.  
I will show no mercy on your soul —
Not even if you beg for it —
Bleed it, wring the daylight out of it.
To your despair, growth is the cruelest devil,
And I its most loyal advocate.

But in time you will learn Strength,
And to heal;  
Through the growing pains and screams
Mend all broken bones,
Stitch up all the open wounds.
Dripping, drilling, stilling.
You will, you will, at your will,
Lace together the miracle, the magum opus: Your undefeated self.

No comfort or ease lies in death.  
But all phoenix bathe in flame and ash.
Selves and egos, they died for you to live
— So live!
Dance on its grave with manic abandon.
Honor it with your new life.
Transcend it, over and over again.
20 Oct 2018, as a token of strength, for all my soul-crushing pain to come.
neth jones Oct 2018
Note

Attaching honours
and dispatching lives;
So grins the new day
and greets the Great Flaw

Note

The Fusing :
Polarise
and apply
weapon to wound
(as the weatherman dictates)

Note

Taughtless and young
Fight your way from family
and take oath
with no protest:
A moral clumsiness

Note

We'll sort out that 'population problem'
and lunge out our burrowed lives
in saturation
of our unmended sorrows
MawaLin Oct 2018
Her most deadliest weapon,
Is carried in her silence.
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


-
The quill...
My weapon of choice,
my inner seed that gives
life to my inner fire,
all of my turmoils
is also, at times,
the root of my
misery.
-


Being a writer is both a blessing and a curse...
It's been there for me but also, it's tied to my emotional and mental pain,
so it is connected to my misery, my anxieties, my depression, my struggles with self-love, fighting my self-doubt, self-hatred and my fears...
At times, I don't even feel worthy of such a gift.
I only want to express myself - all of my loves, all of my pain.
No matter how raw it may seem.
I'm feeling alot better now, I just needed time to pick myself up.
I just did not have the energy to talk to anyone
Thank you so so much, everyone for being so patient and understanding!
Much love and hugs!
Lyn ***
seethroughme Sep 2018
i used you
as a weapon
to beat myself
senseless
until all that was left was
meat
i made you my weapon
and i am sorry
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018
⭐                    ⭐                             ⭐                        ⭐                    ⭐
  ⭐                   ⭐                ⭐                     ⭐                     ⭐
⭐                     ⭐                   ⭐                                ⭐                           ⭐  

I'll                                          
confront     ­                                   
  all       of      my                                        
I N A D E Q U A C I E S                                        
by                     ­                   
⭐                                          
b                    ­                
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     z                                  
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s      
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o
f        
⭐        
c    
   h
         a
           l
       l
  e
n    
g        
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          ⭐

                                      To
                      ­                expand
                                      and polish
                                      my horizons
                                     as
                                  ⭐
                           a
                               ⭐
                                     g
                                        i
                     ­                       f
                                        ­t
                                  e
                           d
                      ⭐
                   w
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                                   ­ r
                                             d  
                                              s  
           ­                              m  
                                i    
                        t ­     
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                          ⭐

          
      
       ˚°◦                                                ⚫ ノ                                       ◦°˚    
      ˚°◦                                     (                                  ◦°˚   
    Sailing    upon   a  longboat  of dreams that   will  
                      bring   me    close   to  my  destination  to  a                    
                      auth­or, a poet that will touch and                      
        ◦°˚                inspire a generation                    ˚°◦
All I want to be a gifted wordsmith.
The power of the pen is the weapon I chose to express myself,
my heart, my pain and more.
Thank you so much for 204 followers, I'm very grateful for all of you!
(And I'm very aware that on a phone, the formatting will look messed up,
but it is fine on a laptop or tablet.)
I'll keep my ink flowing, no matter what.
Lyn ***
neth jones Aug 2018
My weapon is voice today
'tis careless
a spell amoungst curs
it puts close friends in their places
and worried
(behind my back)
It kisses with mischeif
and muddies stray-fully

My weapon is played
a trial
a tool
to bring about my isolation
Then i may exit without notice
and unfollowed
a relief, in release

My real work shall begin abroad
Gabriel burnS Aug 2018
… our bodies in our clothes like holstered guns…
love is when you draw... and shed the holster
… that sweet crunchy click blowing your pupils
the arching trajectory of the safety-off smile
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