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Enigmatic Nov 2019
Why can't I see the girl in the mirror
All her demons are playing Chinese whispers
One by one the secrets meet the conscious
Hidden wounds deform the mind
The pain you feel at the initial tear of a bandaid, every time you uncover another scathe
Bleeding out despair
You can not run
You can't decorate a gun in roses and tell me it won't **** you
You must confide in what you ignore
Stare into the mirror until you welcome the girl with open arms
Let out what's hiding beneath your lair
Kayla Gallant Sep 2019
Immersed in sorrow
No longer alone
Yet the twinge
Still remains
The hole inside
Burns too deep
Nothing can fill it
But time itself
the deepest wounds take years to heal
Amoy Sep 2019
The wheels of time spins in my direction knocking me off my feet
telling me I need to yield for it is my master. Time the illusional master captures me, casting shadows on my mind, body and heart.
imprisoning my thoughts and emotions with promises to sooth my pain
Does Time heal all wounds?
William de klerk Sep 2019
The light in my eyes burns low
as the gateway to my soul starts to suffocate
like a candles feint flicker fading away.
This leaky heart drips drops of hope
through a slow draining sieve,
with warmth escaping ,
cold like a cunning trickster
slowly starves this depleted vessel
of all sensation.


Living only to steal shallow breaths
for fear of the greedy hand of rot
that has pillaged my wilting will
that like a running wound oozes life.

This I would still prefer to your "love"
that repeatedly left me lifeless and limp
cowering behind high walls of stone
mending shredded flesh in secret
In self imposed shackles,
far too tight,
constantly cutting
into bruised wrists.

So I longingly look at those outside
while I am so lost inside myself,
hoping someone, somehow
penetrates this prison
of isolation
soon

As my grip starts to slip I look down
at the haunting black beneath
where I was once consumed,
where I am afraid to fall again
from where I still haven't healed.

Drawing a dead man's last breath
I'm unafraid in defiance of death.
I let my vice fail, to embrace the abyss.
As absolute black washes over me
in it's powerful pull I begin to drown,
while my weighty corpse starts to sink

The last of my air bubbles away
with empty eyes
And nothing to say
  the wounds that wash an ocean red,
are the reason I will wind up dead
Mr Trismegistus Aug 2019
"If your wounds you'll let me heal,"

Says the Spirit,

"I'll give you zeal."
Emma Aug 2019
You’re so unhappy.
And ******* but doesn’t it make you special.
Afterall no one else is unhappy.
Your pain at night is the warmest thing you are sure you could hope to feel.
It gives you your driver’s license,
And you drive right the **** over anything that throws into question what you do,
Your tire marks steadily worming beneath my skin.
The secondhand rhapsodious misery you expel into the air crawls into the threads of my clothing and lingers.
Your justify your uninspired cruelty as being something I need to hear,
Point to pain as truth to fuel your fallacies.
That’s not what truth is.
You wound because you can,
Too afraid or angry or selfish to apologise and so you spoon out excuses,
Each more common than colds.
Like chunky lemon milk,
We linger past our expiration.
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