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kim Sep 17
it's funny
how i build these walls around my heart:
strong, resistant, resilient;
they protect it from the sharp edges of slipped words from your tongue,
they shield my heart from the harshness of spitfire.
and yet

they. always. break

even after how many times i rebuild these tall walls,
even after adding multitudes of obsidian,
it always breaks under your words

and i'm growing tired

the once overflowing energy in my veins are slowly diminishing,
the nerves building this wall around my heart are slowly losing their light

and there will come a day
where i don't have the energy to rebuild these defenses,
where my heart will lay beating but vulnerable

and there will be a day where your words hit just the right spot,
and then there i will be,
slowly bleeding out, color draining from me as i find it harder and harder to get up

but today will not be that day,
i will continue to build these defenses,
only letting those worthy to enter,
my heart will still beat and it will beat strong

today, your words will simply bounce off these obsidian walls and fall to their demise
im okay now, just needed to let it out
Nylee Aug 7
a million pieces
  it is how my dreams have become
little by little
  every little break a little
multiply and increase

By next month
  I'd be counting the billionth one
the reality is too real
  I see nothing ticks my list
and I am slowly learning to accept
  I am getting there

Now the darkness took over
  The dreams I see in the night
My back of eyelids
  grant me the solace
From the daily torture of day ones

Sometimes I see a face
  who know how to sew those pieces
it is better I stay clear
  These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic
  But any tear ahead will be the sudden death,
I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.
Alex Jul 28
I use to think home,
were build of anger,
Egos, bruises, and pain,
Back in my memory,
When i was a rope,
that my parents use to play tug of war,
I was so confused,
But i know it was home,
It wasn't feel like though,
But i knew my right arm was held by my dad,
And my mom holding my left,
My wrist were tied like cuffs,
Thinking it was my fault,
And when they let go,
I fell onto a deepest core of earth,
It was burning me,
For all i knew i was a 3 years old,
All i knew back then it was an act,
Playing their part,
And there was the moment that they don't have to,
Fading the blury images,
Make way through new ages,
That day where home felt wrecked by tornados,
They found their happy endings,
On different corners,
And all along,
I was the unfittable piece,
Left on the counter,
And puzzle portrait of a house,
Never completed at all...
luciana Jun 28
every time I try to escape you
I start to feel empty to my very core
I'd rather hold on then say adieu
because either way I was a wreck before
Sarah Pavlak Apr 24
I hit deliverance going a cool 65.
Some people were up dancing with Saints  
On twin-sized mattresses,
Tying fisherman’s knots,
Suppressing rebellions
At the edges of mouths.
They blew me smoke-ring halos,
Got high enough to see God
In the slits of the blinds,
The dips of collarbones.
With medical shears I sent
My last rights to the spark
Of the telephone wire, asked
If I had been enough, and
Lit up the flare.
loving without pinking up
around your neck, feeling
cold blue — am i bleeding?
or is it you — just coming back?

— i am kidding, cause i'm sinking
waiting for the cause to wreck
Hamies Mar 19
if you would look close,
you would see the agony kept inside my chest
and dead butterflies killed by myself ages ago
you'd see the unspoken thoughts
repetitively playing like music in my ears
no one can hear
you'd recognize my shadows dancing on papers of unwritten poetry
kept inside my treasure of hope
you'd understand the scribbled words written on the walls of my heart secretly wanting to be noticed just by someone who looks close enough

but if you decide to look closer,
you'd see the pain running through my veins demanding be felt in every inch of my body
you'd see the little girl that lives inside me
still trying to be let free
you'd see the hatred trying to be restrained by the idea of destiny & that tomorrow will be better
and the whisper in the back of my head always telling me that it is not good enough yet
but after all,
you'd still think it's pathetically miserable
what a wreck i actually am
you'd never think i'm worth reading
never worth looking closer
and you'd put me next to all the unfulfilled stories remaining in the shelf of yours
and always kept in mind that some day
you may rummage in your old books
and find me again
i am sorry
My throat closes

Every single time

When I want to speak or let myself be heard, I close

I let others speak for me. In whistling tunes I found through the Tube or stories as told by those who live them

I find it is not my time to speak.

For only when I am utmost alone can I even utter a single sigh and still it displeases me of its occurrence

Perhaps voiceless to allow others the space they might need to be themselves. So why am I upset of it

Meek and meager
Never there when you need her
Your silence is louder than a train wreck.
Taylory Sep 2019
As I’m sitting here watching the deep red blood run down the tube into this white plastic container sitting in the floor letting me know that there was over 600 millimeters of blood in your lungs, I think about how much more could possible be left in there. How much more of the man that I know as my father diminishes away down a tube? I sit here in this uncomfortable hospital chair looking at you, staring at you. Memorizing your face and all your features because lord knows how much longer I’ll have you to myself. I stare at your hair and think of a color to describe it. Brown, dark blonde? Maybe a deep strawberry blonde? I can tell I got my hair from him and not my mother. It’s a mix of all three, and I can’t choose a favorite. From your hair to your closed eyes. Your eyes don’t have to be open for me to know the color blue that they have. If diamonds were blue then they would be your eyes. They have the most amazing and unique texture... Your hands I know all too well. I remember all the hugs I received from you, I was just barely okay before your hugs and then you made everything melt away. What I would do for one of your famous hugs right now.... I wish I could take away all of this pain, I really do. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this and me not be able to do anything about it. You’re supposed to be the strongest man that I know. But right now they have tubes coming from almost every inch of your body. Each one reads something different about you. Heart is beating, check. Lungs are working, hardly but yes. Blood pressure is normal, not for long the way that plastic thing looks right now. They even have you on an oxygen tank. I don’t think I knew you snored, maybe it’s because of the tube hanging out of your lungs. Every time you inhale the air tight plastic thing holding your blood moves a little. Every time you move more of the red substance I know as my father trickles down the tube and drips into the white plastic thing holding almost a liter of you. The more your lungs emit blood into the plastic holder, the more I feel like you are sinking into the hospital bed. Honestly you look like it too.
This is my very first writing and I’m kinda sensitive to this subject..
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
My healer,
the one who rubbed
ointment on my wounds,
calming and relieving the pain.
Who's presence was the epitome
of comfort and love.

Has now become the stealer,
of my happiness
and the exploiter,
of my kindness.
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