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#harmed
There is a place on the edge of town, It's small, it's dark, it will bring you down. People go there when the clock strikes twelve, Never again will you see them alive. It is an old hospital, For the asylum seekers, Abandoned and neglected Just like the reapers, People will tell you of the screams that can be heard, From all of the patients that died here. You will want to run, But the walls will close, Keeping you there, In the asylums doors, But don't be scared, and don't be alarmed, You've joined the group, Of mentally harmed.
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
The place on the edge of town
When people are talking conflicts are erupting even when everyone appear calm some feelings are harmed Using the most cutting weapon we do not know how to control The tongue has the most victims no one considers at all careless whispers and the screaming match hurting all those who matter deeper than mere scratches Resentment stays as the words replays and the distance grows even if it does not show.
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
D i s t a n c e
Poets are quite useful and should not be harmed per the Per-con-fessor (silent H)y’all, M.A., BS (not a degreee) like the opossum, a frightfully excellent scavenger of nature’s successful (s)excesses, should not vacuumed up, intoxicated, sprayed or splayed with harsh chemicales, less their output ‘die on the vine’ (or summertime hammock) let them create, let them pro~create,(oh yeah) let them be et, juicy and delicioso speaking from very personal know-(less)dge while the species is no current danger of being eradicat[et], there are editors, propagandists, censors and sneering sensors, A-holes, B-holes and M-holes, even T-holes & Z-holes, ready willing enable to remove all poems from the general lexicon of human possessions (and poets into giant pre-fabulous custom built warehouses) i therefore encourage you to start this date, by kissing your fav po-et, and thus strongly encourage, hims and hers, to out-put put-out suggest you start with me, as a test pest case and not Thomas Case, who gets plenty affection
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Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 7:55 AM UTC
Poets are quite useful and should not be harmed
The American Library Association implores cognoscenti tubby alert impersonators, who call themselves Ernie and Bert took a page from Sesame Street Playbook oft times accompanied by a Soundcloud of dirt, boot none other then Pigpen, (who worked for Peanuts), and pay-dirt, though dismissed, cuz he did not exert true grit, plus more seriously scandalous sordid details suppressed kept from press, (which scurrilous breach of conduct involved said scallywag violating more than flirt discovered in prurient compromised activity, where his skin flute encircled, with an ambrosia girt transgressions possibly affected public television station benefactors, and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly to make a profit sounding proper sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes, asper faux expected by a "FAKE" trumping prophet, sans motley crue comic stripped of more'n motion picture PG ratings, hence future lurid, graphic, banal, ampersand (&) dressing room banter muted, disallowed, and banned so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz, (who passed away prior to near canned aforementioned indiscretion debacle) returning amidst fanfare hoopla much as possible grand jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed glory and apple pie order land ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic easy to digest bookworm feed which unexpectedly, inadvertently, and horrifyingly brewed ferocious breed on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm, whereat armed guards strategically stationed at libraries entrances indeed aware voracious young readers, would pay no heed to any obstacle, and such unstoppable ravishing knowledge hungry kids did exceed capacity security details dashed away, faster then Clifford the big red dog speed!
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Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Avid Bookworms On The Loose
The American Library Association implores cognoscenti tubby alert impersonators, who call themselves Ernie and Bert took a page from Sesame Street Playbook oft times accompanied by a Soundcloud of dirt, boot none other then Pigpen, (who worked for Peanuts), and pay-dirt, though dismissed, cuz he did not exert true grit, plus more seriously scandalous sordid details suppressed kept from press, (which scurrilous breach of conduct involved said scallywag violating more than flirt discovered in prurient compromised activity, where his skin flute encircled, with an ambrosia girt transgressions possibly affected public television station benefactors, and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly to make a profit sounding proper sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes, asper faux expected by a "FAKE" trumping prophet, sans motley crue comic stripped of more'n motion picture PG ratings, hence future lurid, graphic, banal, ampersand (&) dressing room banter muted, disallowed, and banned so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz, (who passed away prior to near canned aforementioned indiscretion debacle) returning amidst fanfare hoopla much as possible grand jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed glory and apple pie order land ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic easy to digest bookworm feed which unexpectedly, inadvertently, and horrifyingly brewed ferocious breed on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm, whereat armed guards strategically stationed at libraries entrances indeed aware voracious young readers, would pay no heed to any obstacle, and such unstoppable ravishing knowledge hungry kids did exceed capacity security details dashed away, faster then Clifford the big red dog speed!
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Sky! Lift me gently up as an infant bruised by life's measure & forgive my Spirit for it aches by the fire by the brimstone of Life hard experienced of Life unforgiven to the end Sky! Your graceful colors are brilliant be regal by air rarer than Cherub-breath be held by no earthly governance breathe! breathe! life is the glorious battle! battle! life is the gift for all victors! :: 03.06.2020 ::
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Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 7:30 PM UTC
SKY LIFT ME UP
How it feels To be judged As someone else Because of someone else How it feels To fear a doctor But need a doctor How it feels To not be seen Or be seen a fraud How it feels To live in fear Of those in power How it feels To take medication To be able to function How it feels To feel like a criminal, Abuser, addict...criminal How it feels To ask for medicine Always treated with suspicion How it feels To have no choice If to have a life How it feels To fight through life One battle after the next How it feels Not to trust From childhood, a must How it feels Under suspicion For taking medication How it feels To be on diazepam Because, it was given How it feels To be unstable Thrown into prison, To have the worst label How it feels To give your all Only for others to let you fall How it feels To be failed From the start By Doctor Hart How it feels To try to trust, In authorities, To help me How it feels How hard that is, And why it's rare That I trusted your care How it feels To have to explain My pain Over and over again How it feels One moment respected, The next considered addicted How it feels To be forced With zero words To spiral, downwards How it feels How long it took For me to trust you To believe in you How it feels To be able to trust, Because clearly you don't, Yet, for your job it's a must... How it feels, The deep pain, You've inflicted in me, Again and again How it feels, The edge I reach Your careless actions Making me weak How it feels How much we care, About conversation, Or trust is not there How it feels, How deep you hurt me, May be small to you, But you repeated my history And that is why I have no trust left I was so close to the edge, Sometimes,.....its safer to be dead. I must protect myself.....respect is earned.
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Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 2:26 PM UTC
You will never know....
How it feels To be judged As someone else Because of someone else How it feels To fear a doctor But need a doctor How it feels To not be seen Or be seen a fraud How it feels To live in fear Of those in power How it feels To take medication To be able to function How it feels To feel like a criminal, Abuser, addict...criminal How it feels To ask for medicine Always treated with suspicion How it feels To have no choice If to have a life How it feels To fight through life One battle after the next How it feels Not to trust From childhood, a must How it feels Under suspicion For taking medication How it feels To be on diazepam Because, it was given How it feels To be unstable Thrown into prison, To have the worst label How it feels To give your all Only for others to let you fall How it feels To be failed From the start By Doctor Hart How it feels To try to trust, In authorities, To help me How it feels How hard that is, And why it's rare That I trusted your care How it feels To have to explain My pain Over and over again How it feels One moment respected, The next considered addicted How it feels To be forced With zero words To spiral, downwards How it feels How long it took For me to trust you To believe in you How it feels To be able to trust, Because clearly you don't, Yet, for your job it's a must... How it feels, The deep pain, You've inflicted in me, Again and again How it feels, The edge I reach Your careless actions Making me weak How it feels How much we care, About conversation, Or trust is not there How it feels, How deep you hurt me, May be small to you, But you repeated my history And that is why I have no trust left I was so close to the edge, Sometimes,.....its safer to be dead. I must protect myself.....respect is earned.
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