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#phantompain
I miss the days when we were together. Are those days truly forgettable? No, I'll remember them forever. Losing you was regrettable. But why did we even sever? I thought our bond was unbreakable. I believed you'd leave me never. So why did you go? It's unbearable.
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Jan 6
Jan 6, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
The Unbreakable Break
What a strong grip that you've managed to keep so long How does it still feel in this moment? Realize now that the grip was too strong It's gone too numb to feel if it still constricts Emboldened by the lies that cross the threshold of those lips You get what I give and I give you what I deserved You reap what I sow, but I know what you think I don't Believe me, you know you've deceived me You seem baffled as I start to roam away from your reach Wondering where went the chain you've anchored What of the lessons you've attempted to teach To keep me guilted, controlled and manipulated So you can seek all you want from the others you've lied to You take what I give but I get what you deserved I've reaped what you sow and you know that I don't Believe you, I know you've deceived me So come clean to me Bare all your guilt Set me free You've already abandoned me Still you don't resist To continue so disrespectfully You keep your secrets disappearing So what is it that you still want from me? So come clean to me (come clean, come clean) Bare all your guilt (what you hide from me) Set me free (your cage no longer fits) You've already abandoned me So why should I stay by you? ©July 2024 Neal Emanuelson
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Jul 2, 2024
Jul 2, 2024 at 6:40 PM UTC
Phantom Pain
Here I am bleeding again Taken aback by mortal fear. Staring at faith Staged by hope-- Pouring rain on visceral cage– The sound of deep Calling to deep. Repressed feelings buried by Time. Epitaph reads on the forgotten Grave: "Here lies the child now grown. His hopes and dreams Dashed to pieces. This is where the child died." I often hear the Mystic Keeper Calling from night And tradition calling from Artificial light As I run through scorched Barren Fields of doubt, Walking barefoot over these Coals Crouching low To hide my eyes As I run And as I hide From what has already been revealed-- The tombstone says it all. When I am out on the water Lost in the Channel fog I often see fleeting glimpses of White cliffs of hope Like the white cliffs of Dover Shining on the edge of Melancholy Sea. But they often turn out to be Withered white Seeds of religious platitudes. And then there is the ready Reflection Of the looking glass That often tricks the Beholder. For in it truth is not seen. What is seen is graffiti of soul Hiding the crumbling Cracks of age– The threshold where Sanity meets its end. Isolation has become A shining steel blade Cutting deep Into the heart of hearts. Nothing lives after amputation. Depending on emotional Prosthetics-- Phantom pain When nothing is There. But in the midst of these Devastations I am learning to take-- Howbeit reluctantly-- The hand of trust and grace; Allowing Hope to build A fortress for dreams… Set boundaries better Than no control at all.
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
Phantom Pain
Here I am bleeding again Taken aback by mortal fear. Staring at faith Staged by hope-- Pouring rain on visceral cage– The sound of deep Calling to deep. Repressed feelings buried by Time. Epitaph reads on the forgotten Grave: "Here lies the child now grown. His hopes and dreams Dashed to pieces. This is where the child died." I often hear the Mystic Keeper Calling from night And tradition calling from Artificial light As I run through scorched Barren Fields of doubt, Walking barefoot over these Coals Crouching low To hide my eyes As I run And as I hide From what has already been revealed-- The tombstone says it all. When I am out on the water Lost in the Channel fog I often see fleeting glimpses of White cliffs of hope Like the white cliffs of Dover Shining on the edge of Melancholy Sea. But they often turn out to be Withered white Seeds of religious platitudes. And then there is the ready Reflection Of the looking glass That often tricks the Beholder. For in it truth is not seen. What is seen is graffiti of soul Hiding the crumbling Cracks of age– The threshold where Sanity meets its end. Isolation has become A shining steel blade Cutting deep Into the heart of hearts. Nothing lives after amputation. Depending on emotional Prosthetics-- Phantom pain When nothing is There. But in the midst of these Devastations I am learning to take-- Howbeit reluctantly-- The hand of trust and grace; Allowing Hope to build A fortress for dreams… Set boundaries better Than no control at all.
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When I first admitted To loving you A seed was planted in my being It grew with every rain of love It somehow became a part of me And when you left My body ached You are like A phantom limb My body cannot Accept your absence Some nights I feel it all again I relive the moment I did not give consent for Such great a amputation Though I knew the risks Of keeping a dying limb You cut yourself off And months later I'm stuck With my phantom pain They took me to psych Told me I'd gone insane But after the sunshine of our love what's there to expect But cold weather and rain?
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
Phantom Pain