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#disfigured
Is hard to sleep when the mind keeps screaming Instead of dreaming it's choosing to blur the reality a little more Brimming with shoulds and should nots Couldn't and could've been But we would not succumb Replaying the same memory of the second defeat so we don't morph into an headless hero Ones and zeroes bounce restless in relentless persuite of the truth You're a hero even if your greatest feat is not flinging yourself off the cliff Everyone wants to fly but once in sky You'll be dying to land and you land too hard you die You're trying too hard you're not trying hard enough Which one is it, do we take the next step of giveup The next step is breathing So vote maybe? But it isn't so bad if you look closely We're not alone but a bit lonely In a crowd going about discredited the happening Cutting off the threads, we can't move we're just dangling The one thing, out if pills of sanity Spring from attachment We now have chose between two addictions We'd rather be free and starve than be behind bars So we let go We exist at extremes They exist in middle We meet twice everytime Graze by each other A bit of refill of regret A living reminder We can't sleep Can't shake the fright The voices are back in the house They're looking for a fight We might let them win this time
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Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Loosing touch
When your danger was mistaken as adventure, Causing frostbites to grow on my cementing heart, It seemed my dull eyes developed disfiguring ulcers which tarnished my vision, Because your lust was thought to be love. While your manipulation was crowned as kindness, My skin was being roughly tattooed with bruises and wounds, It seemed my aura formatted from a cloud to a frigid speck of pathetic dust, Because my submission was thought to be devotion. While your destructive words seemed to be a gentle push, I became trapped and forced, While decaying poison was being injected within my fragile soul, Because they labelled your control as being protective. And now they call me cruel, Inhumane and a monster, When I don’t weep for their own ordeals, When I don’t care about the pain they have experienced, When I remain indifferent. But I don’t mind, Call me savage...ruined...changed...broken...nasty... A monster? Because I won’t and I don’t and I can’t Feel one bit anymore.
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Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Falling of the fine line.
Nights like these Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Am I living or have I been missing? Will I wake from a dream Find myself 80 years old stuck in the past Nothing but questions, No answers to report Nights like these had painful days Unrecognizable from others In the way brutally disfigured corpses Failed to be identified by the authorities Another cold case Nights like these You are distant but your memory Brings me back to my youth
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Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
Can’t sleep
Today I spotted a disfigured man by the lake. His right hand in a soiled bandage loosely tied. Left eye missing - I dared not uproot his repose. I feared for him so frail, Beside black water. Today I spotted a disfigured man aboard a train. Earphone hung from melted plastic ear, does he listen? He smells foul and looks unblinking - a commuting ghoul. What station can such a man find his home? Today I spotted a disfigured man at dinner alone. His teeth rotten with gums bleeding - drinking soup slowly. Waxy red blood staining cheap napkins He doesn't care. An omnipresent reminder that no man survived a week.
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Disfigured Man
I'm tired of feeling this way No matter what the day Tired of feeling disjointed, disfigured With my missing parts scattered on the ground Knowing not all the parts are there to be found I am only deconstructed, not reconstructed I can never again be whole I'll never be myself of old Someone tell me why I should go on Only a piece of a person, most of me gone I just want to lay the rest of me down, how can that be wrong
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May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
How Can That be Wrong
You say you see it The monster that lies beneath The bruised skin of hers The nightmare that is deadly Particularly hateful Her eyes threaten life Her smile can lure and destroy They claim she's crazy She survives her fear of death But not her fear of people She runs until tired She may never come back home Cries until dawn She waits for night to come again She is framed as a killer
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May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
Monster
her heart, disfigured and cold with a burning hole dead center. empty and dark, was her fragile heart no hope, no fix dead forever.
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
disfigured
"Grow up tall, little kid," said grandpa Joe. And so I did. The watermelon grow tall too. The sunflowers look to the sky, keeping their chins up, raised real high. So maybe it's silly, watching grass grow, but if you never try, how could you ever know? So maybe it's crazy, chanting for the rain, but if it never comes, how could I grow the grain? I'd prefer to stare at clouds, than sleep forever like a rock, skidding by life. Why, that would just **** So, if you ask me to leave this here place, you better shove it, before you wake up in an unknown space, tied up with lace, with a disfigured face, completely full of mace, and a strange case of something poisonous.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
The Farmers Granddaughter