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Cat Lynn Jul 14
Although I am always cold
Maybe I have burdened my self...
With too much linen to wear and carry?
Although it brings my warmth, it is slowly suffocating me...
Abby M Dec 2018
I feel small
The world is a laughing giant
Wearing a coat to stop the cold
But all of her coats are too big for me
ChildofGodyay Jun 2018
Thread by Thread, sowing light.
O so white, gloriously bright.

Like the Sun, hanging up high, shining brightly.
My Spirit soaring, my faith growing. The Passion burning.

A black canvas can be painted white.
Dark skies can still be streaked with light.

I don't know about you, but I will be wearing light.
The fire within burning bright. The light inside, never to be put out.
So wearing light is like wearing, showing other people the light that is within you. Hope, Love, Joy. To be spreading all those to other people. No matter where they are. The Passion is the passion for God, Jesus, to work for him, the desire to be with him. The passion to bring everyone back to God.
Poetic T May 2016
I lingered in pockets of madness, they were
like crushed velvet on my fingertips.
Soft gentle with a hint of static on my nails.

When I had lived in sanity it wore on me
like a cotton jumper, irratating  me, my
thoughts rational and lucid I felt *****.

*"We are only as crazy as the world around us,
Nick Moser Apr 2016
I try to breathe.
Which is a hard task for me.
My life is fading fast.

These new lungs I was given.
Make me feel unforgiven.
My breath will never last.

Life is hard to live.
When all I do is give.
And I receive nothing in return.

The new lungs are fading.
My wrists are blading.
My whole world is ready to burn.

I can't escape this Hell.
I've been deemed "mentally unwell."
I'm ready to be down for the count.

So I just crawl in bed.
And cover my head.
My new lungs are wearing out.
New Lungs
Sarah Kersey Aug 2015
I wore my anxiety
like a sweater
My depression
like a mask

My skin was covered
by the illnesses
that plague
my fragile soul

They had the
to tell me
it was all
in my head.
KrisNicYo Mar 2015
Let me tell stories about who I am,
Let me rob you of your proof that I am your friend,
Let slip secret notions that live deep within my soul,
Watch me process and twist whatever unwavering truth you've  believed you told,
All jumbled on the banks of a chaotic mind,
All broken stolen and now hard to find,
Please tell me it's okay to let **** parts poke out of this heart you've painted gold,
Because keeping them hidden my body begins to fold,
This smile you cherish is a silent scream trying to escape my tightly closed lips,
This smile is me begging you to instruct me to cut the s**t,
Because without permission and direction I'll always choose to swim in it.
Gwen Whitmoore Feb 2015
(I think I fell in love in the back of a theater
foreign languages on the screen-
mourning dew in your eyes.)

Empty bars encourage the best conversation
in the dead of winter
when nobodies feel the most alive.

they order Irish coffees and Old Fashions
to remind them of the
grandfathers they never knew, while we talk
and covet the ****** hair of exotic men.

(I always awake feeling close to you
and then go to bed
disintegrated by distance- by need

love is always easier when your face is numb
having mistook the blemishes its supposed to hide
for forbidden fruit within the promised land.)*

there's a depressed bartender talking to
a manic patron,
reminding me to visit my parents soon.
In this river of wine
I love my love with love
Never known before

Don’t walk into this river of hope
wearing a robe
You don’t take a good bath
wearing your gown
Come naked
In this garden
Without clothes, without figs

I am glad
that you found me
How pure a flame now burns
This thirst
with which I burn
#river #wine #known #before #hope #robe #good #bath #wearing #gown #come # naked #garden #clothes #figs #glad #pure #flame #burns #thirst
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