You don't find writing,
Writing finds you.

I call myself a writer
Yet I’ve never made another cry
With the pieces I’ve written.
I’ve seen looks of disgust,
And those of disappointment,

But how does one invoke
The emotions felt in that moment
In the hearts and minds of the literate?

I want to create tears from one’s eyes,
Let the warm water streak a path,
And then send a fearful shiver
Up their chilled spine,
And freeze those beads of water
Into spikes of ice.

Maybe a boiling rage can follow,
And dissipate those trailing tears.

But when all is said and all is done,
Others spike emotion.

I spike none.

i got a friend
on hello poetry

i like her poetry
she a good person:

interested
light-hearted
and a fighter

keep it up girl
and stay a writer


by the way: tizzop says hello!

You're one I can never forget a sin,
I commit over and over again.
Like a sweet addiction on my breathe,
A craving I can't resist.

You're one regret I love to taste,
your substance abuse.
Drunkenness and naked in your glory,
Oh God give me one last drink.

You're a mistake a type of adultery,
That brings me pleasure.
I would choose you as my drug,
****** injected in my veins.

I keep wanting more even after I swallowed the bitterness.
The taste of methadone as it dissolves on your tongue.
The best mistake I made is your regret a taste I can never forget.
Candy81 © 3 days ago, Candra Creviston    pain • rhyme • love • sad • death  
Read more →
Like (3)
You said - Thanks What did you think?
3  
  Bury me alive

It's cold down here, no one
can hear me.
I know you are there, I smell
your foulness.

Is there a reason, you're here,
why are you just standing there?
It's wet and moist down here,
where am I, where have you taken me?

I'm "alive, please" "sweetheart, don't" bury me.
It's wet down here I can't breathe, help me!
I need "water, there's" a pungent taste and its hard swallow.

"No, "sweetheart" I didn't
do anything, that's not me laughing.
You can trust me just let me out,
so I can kiss you again.
It should be you down here,
you pathetic cry baby.

Bury me alive, I still will not die
I will haunt you awake or dreaming.
Dig my grave 6 feet deep and
I still will claw my way out of here.
They will find us in my grave with a suicide note you wrote.



Candy81
Candra Creviston    death • pain • love • sad • nature

c utting
o pen wounds
n umbing
q uickly
u ltimately
e nding the
r espiratory system
e levating the chances of
d eath

2k19 month of September
Alarmed an international terror
Climate change, change in weather
Drought across the nation
Turned into fire Strom centre
5 months from now
We can still witness the ember
Smoke, ashes from bushfire
Travelled thousands of acres

This inferno had us surrender
We lost a million of species endangered
And pushed many near extinction
Humans were no exception
32 were lost in this render
People lost their land of ancestors
Houses which were a place of
Laughter, revitalization and relaxation
Now are nothing but melted shelters

Firefighters to social writers
All jumped to help out the situation
From taking control over fire
To spread awareness
Seeking for helpers
Nature finally blessed us
It rained and things got under control
Before fire would swallow everything
And melt us...