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#crutch
The remnants from every last past bunch Of confrontation and confusion with such and such Pile up till it becomes too much I panic, then in a frantic desperation motion I reach out to clutch At a drifting safety line I can no longer touch In a rush I removed both legs to manufacturer a crutch Sometimes it's hard to translate a hunch ©2024
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Jun 5, 2024
Jun 5, 2024 at 6:04 PM UTC
~•§•~ An Impractical Crutch ~•§•~
There is a person I try to forget, Shoved in the back of my mind. The old me. The one who used to be happy Who used to be fun Who used to be able to fall asleep without crying or music or some other crutch and I just... I just want that person back.
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Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 11:17 PM UTC
In the Back of My Mind
Fashioning a new crutch For one’s old crutch Might never heal One’s achilles heel
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Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 12:24 PM UTC
Excuse the excuse
I take my pills to subside the pain, But the dark clouds are just waiting to rain, Therapy appointments medication and all, They are like my crutches without them I fall, My mind goes at such a pace, But it’s loosing in a one man race, Competing with myself to change who I am, I’ve tried so hard I don’t know if I can, They say death isn’t the answer then we’ll what is, I’m dead inside hate and feeling like this
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Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Dark clouds
Will you be the ears? The ears to my words. Will you be the eyes? The eyes to my falls. Will you be the shoulder? To which I depend on. Will you be the listener? And hear my calls.
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 4:52 AM UTC
Crutch
You can say that I'm a little out of touch I fell down but I can't climb back up None of my friends give a **** I guess I'm **** out of luck. If I'm not feeling blue I dont feel much I know they'll tell me to **** it up Moving on is just hard as **** I'm tired of being down on my luck. Its like holding in the clutch I press the gas but just rev up Going nowhere fast my motor is ****** I blew a gasket, yeah just my luck. I hope I won't always need a crutch I need motivation to just wake up Get me a drink until I don't give a **** I guess I've been making my own bad luck.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
Devil's Own Luck.
Who was your ******* rock? The one you relied on when others relied on you? I was the keystone who kept you together and kept the others together unbeknownst to them. I was the bandage sealing the wound from the bacteria of the world, from the ill thoughts and mean-spirited things of the world. I was your ******* crutch that supported you and helped you stand upright in this world. But just like a crutch, like a bandage, I was discarded once the problem was summarily handled. I hope you bleed out next time.
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Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
I served my purpose I guess
It’s been two days since I saw your name My heart falls into my stomach whenever I do. I turn to my crutches and hope they fill the hole inside me. They don’t though Very few things do anymore. Writing helps, though I shouldn’t indulge this emotion. Not like this. It’s been two days since my soul rebelled. I hope it comes home soon. My body can’t sustain
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Your name.
promises of love and dediction we believe we are grown but inside of us just under the surface is a child wanting to be comforted to be loved so we hide this part of us the colours in our mind slowly dying because they say to keep something maintained you must nourish it but the nourishment we need is rare and this makes our palettes grey resorting to unorthodox versions of what we need crutches and supports that people refuse to speak about the childhood friend that moved away when you were young unable to cohere as to why they couldn't stay wrapped in the dreamland of explosive joy
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Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
palette
so many people write about love with ***** whiskey a joint a crutch i don't have a crutch and i don't have a crush and two negatives equal a positive so what does this poem even mean?
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Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC
equal.
I want to explain the ****** up **** That runs through my mind No, I need to Because I feel like I"m trapped in a monotonous circle of "I need you" I've got a shitload of scattered thoughts to **** through My brain is a minefield And lies are the only things I know to be true Days get blurred by copious drug abuse Amphetamines scream ***** I know you! And you need me! You know it's true!" The night seems endless because the days burn cold I'm digging six feet under to make my home that hole My body may look young but my spirit has grown old Hesitating to be bold This **** has gotten old My insides are rotten...yes, I'm filled with mold And I'd give away my soul But I'd be lying if I said it hasn't already been sold They can't stop puffing ****** Even though the prices get steeper I'd leave if he hadn't said that I am a keeper But, babe, I'm a ********* liar I wish I could ignore you but you're my heart's sole desire So, sadly, I'm wired Sobriety expired Remember, babe, I'm a ******* liar So, I'll make false promises like liars do And please believe me when I say it's true Because, **** I need you to
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Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
Krutch.x
I smell that i am rotting the flower by my nose   Was easily retrieved from dirt beneath my toes Distract me from the pain redirect my sadness Are those in love sane or wallowing in madness..? Everything is potent till you use it all the time yet your still on canvas in the paintings of my mind I find ; i never quite lose you all the way I tossed you to the ground but wanted you to stay..
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Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 4:12 PM UTC
Dip off
Sometimes you have to let the tears flow, Other times you have to let your feelings drown. Because even planets wish to glow like the stars who wear their crowns. When the feelings become to much, and you just want to die. You need to throw away that crutch, and stop wanting to fly. There are times you don't want to feel at all and you just want to be one with nothing. Those are the times you stand tall and make yourself feel something.
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Stand Tall
*Signpost to oblivion When she threw me out It was my fault I know. The drinking had started again. I slept in the car for days. Locked out at night. Yet still I drank My job was lost. But not as lost as me. I remember waking in the drunk tank. I was ***** unshaven. And my eyes were hollow. She paid my bail. I saw her through the bars of the cell. She was so beautiful. And so clean and pure. She whispered quietly I always loved you. I still do. I felt so ***** I needed A shower and shave. But living rough is hard. I quietly said thank you I love you too. She touched my cheek With her finger tips Like she used to touch my skin When we made love In our clean bed. She had tears in her eyes As she saw what I had become. She said softly You know I lost our son as well. As I stumbled away to that signpost for the town of oblivion*
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Signpost to oblivion
All these days I thought I was fated Challenged against my will To gain the trust of strangers Strangers who turn into friends Friends who turn into lovers Lovers who turn heartbroken I don’t bow my head to their feet I bow down way beneath To offer this trust In desperation to be trusted With the impression that trust happens on the outside. While I feed my soul to the world outside While I feed myself an understanding That strangers turn into friends, I am blinded away from my world on the inside. Those I always know are my own Become more transparent than invisibility Those I take for granted as my own, Become the strangest of strangers. While I chisel and chisel away I shape strangers into friends Friends into lovers Until I carve a bit too deep into the stone Realizing a little too late its fragility Lovers turn broken hearted And I fall And there they appear all over again My very own strangers They reappear With love They disappear again With strangeness Yet only they appear again And again Godsend, these strangers are They let me walk away from them They let me befriend They let me love They let me hurt and get hurt They let me fall They watch me fall Yet they appear, Only to pick me up again To hold me with grip To be my crutch, my wheel and my horn To be the strangers I first opened my eyes to To be the strangers who showed me friendship To be the strangers who taught me love To be the strangers whose hearts are too strong to break To be the strangers I call, My family.
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
Strangers
All these days I thought I was fated Challenged against my will To gain the trust of strangers Strangers who turn into friends Friends who turn into lovers Lovers who turn heartbroken I don’t bow my head to their feet I bow down way beneath To offer this trust In desperation to be trusted With the impression that trust happens on the outside. While I feed my soul to the world outside While I feed myself an understanding That strangers turn into friends, I am blinded away from my world on the inside. Those I always know are my own Become more transparent than invisibility Those I take for granted as my own, Become the strangest of strangers. While I chisel and chisel away I shape strangers into friends Friends into lovers Until I carve a bit too deep into the stone Realizing a little too late its fragility Lovers turn broken hearted And I fall And there they appear all over again My very own strangers They reappear With love They disappear again With strangeness Yet only they appear again And again Godsend, these strangers are They let me walk away from them They let me befriend They let me love They let me hurt and get hurt They let me fall They watch me fall Yet they appear, Only to pick me up again To hold me with grip To be my crutch, my wheel and my horn To be the strangers I first opened my eyes to To be the strangers who showed me friendship To be the strangers who taught me love To be the strangers whose hearts are too strong to break To be the strangers I call, My family.
Continue reading...
52
I dined upon a firefly tonight; So that my belly’d master, “Warm.” But the cold can in my hand Led to – Pebbles in my feet; And pebbles in my feet Led to – Solitary; Loneliness and Left behind, starved, and In a way I’d never fathomed.
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Rocks in my Socks
Kick out the crutch False fixes are always temporary bandages
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
False Fixes
What shapes do you think of when you sit under trees? Blunt corners, forgiving curves- a fluctuation that never seems to ease. Do we circle in repetition? Or is self defeat a mirage of an inhibition? The lines sometimes will never touch. But this lack of closure does not discount your right to an ameliorative crutch.
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Squares and Circles
I was your crutches when your heart was breaking I was your scarf and gloves to keep you warm in the winter. But when the sun came You didn't need me. When your heart healed, You tossed aside your crutches And I waited for the cold to come Leaving your heart broken begging for warmth and support.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Crutches and Scarves
I wish you understood What goes through my mind When I think about you, Being away all the time I hate that you're at school And away from my clutch I just want to hold you In my arms like a crutch Because you are my support Every time I fall down Now I have to get up With no one around No crutch or no cane To help keep me sane When I ramble the thoughts That bring pain to my brain It's so ******* hard To sleep late at night My arms, they look for you But you're nowhere in sight So I reach out to, The closest thing I can do Pick up my phone And say "I really miss you."
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Crutch
Yes. I know. It is irrational for me to think like this. I poke holes, second guess and jackhammer at my own foundation. But, you see, I do care even when I come off as crass or I dishearten your image of me. I Just Can't Stop Myself These destructive feelings and urges towards relationships are deep rooted in a fear of abandonment. I'm a battered man. Batting below average. Yet, every chance I get I bunt or try to get hit because that's more comfortable to me Than swinging and missing. But I do care. I really just don't know how to show it. I hold on too long to brief moments that seem to pass from memories as if I stole them. I'm just nostalgic. It's the little things that are big to me and the silly stuff that resonates profoundly. I do understand though. The burden of my depression rests solely on my shoulders. It's not something I can brush off or roll over. I just hope that you all bear with me as I tunnel my way out of this insanity.
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Crutch