#sorrows - Hello Poetry

#sorrows

PURITY OF LOVE Eyes are like half closed windows, My soul rest in peace in a dark corner, Heartbeat bends, emotion turns slow, I am now absolutely hypnotized by Another mystic love affair like a dream rare! All my goodness is ready to shower like rain, My real aura is a true copy of self ego, My past is that perished time to reason out All my melancholic thoughts are now Hanging in and around my own mind-set, As my ways are strange than your beauty All sorrows are in the full heal of purity. (C) WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

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4d ago

May 30, 2026 at 12:23 AM UTC

williamsji-maveli

PURITY OF LOVE Eyes are like half closed windows, My soul rest in peace in a dark corner, Heartbeat bends, emotion turns slow, I am now absolutely hypnotized by Another mystic love affair like a dream rare! All my goodness is ready to shower like rain, My real aura is a true copy of self ego, My past is that perished time to reason out All my melancholic thoughts are now Hanging in and around my own mind-set, As my ways are strange than your beauty All sorrows are in the full heal of purity. (C) WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

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I ‘ve got my poems no one cares about Got my soul searching in a shadow of a doubt I’ve got my blues, my pains, my regrets Got my mind you couldn’t catch with 50 nets I can zig and zag, twist and turn, then run away Can save all those sorrows for the next rainy day I can cry about it, lie about it, then write all night Can use my spell check for words not spelled right I see the world with its good and bad See the things that make me sad I see what it’s all done, how it changed me See what it says, what it means in poetry 5/25/26

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May 25

May 25, 2026 at 9:32 PM UTC

What it means in Poetry

I ‘ve got my poems no one cares about Got my soul searching in a shadow of a doubt I’ve got my blues, my pains, my regrets Got my mind you couldn’t catch with 50 nets I can zig and zag, twist and turn, then run away Can save all those sorrows for the next rainy day I can cry about it, lie about it, then write all night Can use my spell check for words not spelled right I see the world with its good and bad See the things that make me sad I see what it’s all done, how it changed me See what it says, what it means in poetry 5/25/26

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I drowned in the sea of melancholy but, I will make sure you reside in my heart eternally In the summer our love lingered, no thoughts foresaw our future withered. My eyes blinded me mouth shut my veins cut to bleed my heart out, But your thought in my mind felt like sun’s warmth during wintertime. Though our hearts, minds and spirits broken I regret the words never spoken, we know our love was never fake. I cried you wiped the tears of my eyes, the old him ’n’ her died, love molded us every night we spent together And now I drown in the sea of melancholy my legs caught in sorrow, regret and pain slowly pulled below never to be risen again.

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Mar 23, 2025

Mar 23, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC

SEA OF MELANCHOLY

I drowned in the sea of melancholy but, I will make sure you reside in my heart eternally In the summer our love lingered, no thoughts foresaw our future withered. My eyes blinded me mouth shut my veins cut to bleed my heart out, But your thought in my mind felt like sun’s warmth during wintertime. Though our hearts, minds and spirits broken I regret the words never spoken, we know our love was never fake. I cried you wiped the tears of my eyes, the old him ’n’ her died, love molded us every night we spent together And now I drown in the sea of melancholy my legs caught in sorrow, regret and pain slowly pulled below never to be risen again.

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In a cathedral of stone, stark and white, with a lone statue from long before. It stands in a niche, with a soft spotlight shining on its medieval decor. A ****** Mary, with her Mona Lisa smile, looks down from her pedestal high. In quiet, I stand and gaze at her for a while. Did I just hear her audibly sigh? Her gilded robes are weathered, cracked, the once bright paint’s faded and spare, many scars made plain by shadows cast by a red circle of candles lit by prayers. What crises has this scarred Mary seen? Her sighs echo ours: This statue’s hallowed by the pains the prayerful to her bring. I hail thee, marred Mary, full of our sorrows.

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Jan 19, 2025

Jan 19, 2025 at 11:02 AM UTC

Our lady of laments

In a cathedral of stone, stark and white, with a lone statue from long before. It stands in a niche, with a soft spotlight shining on its medieval decor. A ****** Mary, with her Mona Lisa smile, looks down from her pedestal high. In quiet, I stand and gaze at her for a while. Did I just hear her audibly sigh? Her gilded robes are weathered, cracked, the once bright paint’s faded and spare, many scars made plain by shadows cast by a red circle of candles lit by prayers. What crises has this scarred Mary seen? Her sighs echo ours: This statue’s hallowed by the pains the prayerful to her bring. I hail thee, marred Mary, full of our sorrows.

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I have titled this collection of ancient Chinese poems SORROWS OF THE WILD GEESE by HUANG E Sent to My Husband by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The wild geese never fly beyond Hengyang ... how then can my brocaded words reach Yongchang? Like wilted willow flowers I am ill-fated indeed; in that far-off foreign land you feel similar despair. “Oh, to go home, to go home!” you implore the calendar. “Oh, if only it would rain, if only it would rain!” I complain to the heavens. One hears hopeful rumors that you might soon be freed ... but when will the Golden **** rise in Yelang? A star called the Golden **** was a symbol of amnesty to the ancient Chinese. Yongchang was a hot, humid region of Yunnan to the south of Hengyang, and was presumably too hot and too far to the south for geese to fly there. Luo Jiang's Second Complaint by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The green hills vanished, pedestrians passed by disappearing beyond curves. The geese grew silent, the horseshoes timid. Winter is the most annoying season! A lone goose vanished into the heavens, the trees whispered conspiracies in Pingwu, and people huddling behind buildings shivered. Bitter Rain, an Aria of the Yellow Oriole by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These ceaseless rains make the spring shiver: even the flowers and trees look cold! The roads turn to mud; the river's eyes are tired and weep into a few bays; the mountain clouds accumulate like ***** dishes, and the end of the world seems imminent, if jejune. I find it impossible to send books: the geese are ruthless and refuse to fly south to Yunnan! Broken-Hearted Poem by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My tears cascade into the inkwell; my broken heart remains at a loss for words; ever since we held hands and said farewell, I have been too listless to paint my eyebrows; no medicine can cure my night-sweats, no wealth repurchase our lost youth; and how can I persuade that ****** bird singing in the far hills to tell a traveler south of the Yangtze to return home? These are my modern English translations of poems by the Chinese poet Huang E (1498–1569), also known as Huang Xiumei. She has been called the most outstanding female poet of the Ming Dynasty, and her husband its most outstanding male poet. Were they poetry’s first power couple? Her father Huang Ke was a high-ranking official of the Ming court and she married Yang Shen, the prominent son of Grand Secretary Yang Tinghe. Unfortunately for the young power couple, Yang Shen was exiled by the emperor early in their marriage and they lived largely apart for 30 years. During their long separations they would send each other poems which may belong to a genre of Chinese poetry I have dubbed "sorrows of the wild geese." Springtime Prayer by Michael R. Burch They’ll have to grow like crazy, the springtime baby geese, if they’re to fly to balmier climes when autumn dismembers the leaves ... And so I toss them loaves of bread, then whisper an urgent prayer: “Watch over these, my Angels, if there’s anyone kind, up there.” Originally published by Borderless Journal (Singapore) The Mallard by Michael R. Burch The mallard is a fellow whose lips are long and yellow with which he, honking, kisses his ***** boisterous mistress: my pond’s their loud bordello! Kindred (II) by Michael R. Burch Rise, pale disastrous moon! What is love, but a heightened effect of time, light and distance? Did you burn once, before you became so remote, so detached, so coldly, inhumanly lustrous, before you were able to assume the very pallor of love itself? What is the dawn now, to you or to me? We are as one, out of favor with the sun. We would exhume the white corpse of love for a last dance, and yet we will not. We will let her be, let her abide, for she is nothing now, to you or to me. Hangovers by Michael R. Burch We forget that, before we were born, our parents had “lives” of their own, ran drunk in the streets, or half-stoned. Yes, our parents had lives of their own until we were born; then, undone, they were buying their parents gravestones and finding gray hairs of their own (because we were born lacking some of their curious habits, but soon would certainly get them). Half-stoned, we watched them dig graves of their own. Their lives would be over too soon for their curious habits to bloom in us (though our children were born nine months from that night on the town when, punch-drunk in the streets or half-stoned, we first proved we had lives of our own). Breakings by Michael R. Burch I did it out of pity. I did it out of love. I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove. But gods without compassion ordained: Frail things must break! Now what can I do for her shattered psyche’s sake? I did it not to push. I did it not to shove. I did it to assist the flight of indiscriminate Love. But gods, all mad as hatters, who legislate in all such matters, ordained that everything irreplaceable shatters. Habeas Corpus by Michael R. Burch from “Songs of the Antinatalist” I have the results of your DNA analysis. If you want to have children, this may induce paralysis. I wish I had good news, but how can I lie? Any offspring you have are guaranteed to die. It wouldn’t be fair—I’m sure you’ll agree— to sentence kids to death, so I’ll waive my fee. Like Angels, Winged by Michael R. Burch Like angels—winged, shimmering, misunderstood— they flit beyond our understanding being neither evil, nor good. They are as they are ... and we are their lovers, their prey; they seek us out when the moon is full and dream of us by day. Their eyes—hypnotic, alluring— trap ours with their strange appeal till like flame-drawn moths, we gather ... to see, to touch, to feel. Held in their arms, enchanted, we feel their lips, so old!, till with their gorging kisses we warm them, growing cold. Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague" by Michael R. Burch THE PLAGUE has come again To darken lives of men and women, girls and boys; Death proves their bodies toys Too frail to even cry. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Tycoons, what use is wealth? You cannot buy good health! Physicians cannot heal Themselves, to Death must kneel. Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty’s brightest flower? Devoured in an hour. Kings, Queens and Presidents Are fearful residents Of manors boarded high. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! We have no means to save Our children from the grave. Though cure-alls line our shelves, We cannot save ourselves. "Come, come!" the sad bells cry. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! faith(less) by Michael R. Burch Those who believed and Those who misled lie together at last in the same narrow bed and if god loved Them more for Their strange lack of doubt, he kept it well hidden till he snuffed Them out. ah-men! The Cosmological Constant by Michael R. Burch Einstein the frizzy-haired claimed E equals MC squared. Thus all mass decreases as activity ceases? Not my mass, my *** declared! Ass-tronomical by Michael R. Burch Relativity, the theorists’ creed, claims mass increases with speed. My (m)ass grows when I sit it. Mr. Einstein, get with it; equate its deflation, I plead! The Hair Flap by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition" The hair flap was truly a scare: Trump’s bald as a billiard back there! The whole nation laughed At the state of his graft; Now the man’s wigging out, so beware! Salvation of a Formalist, an Ode to Entropy by Michael R. Burch Entropy? God's universal decree That I get to be Disorderly? Suddenly My erstwhile boxed-in verse is free? Wheeeeee! Keywords/Tags: Chinese poetry, China, sorrow, sorrows, geese, rain, heavens, hills, winter, trees, rivers, mountains, books, birds, spring, springtime, baby, babies, pray, prayer, angels

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May 19, 2024

May 19, 2024 at 7:54 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

SORROWS OF THE WILD GEESE by HUANG E

I have titled this collection of ancient Chinese poems SORROWS OF THE WILD GEESE by HUANG E Sent to My Husband by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The wild geese never fly beyond Hengyang ... how then can my brocaded words reach Yongchang? Like wilted willow flowers I am ill-fated indeed; in that far-off foreign land you feel similar despair. “Oh, to go home, to go home!” you implore the calendar. “Oh, if only it would rain, if only it would rain!” I complain to the heavens. One hears hopeful rumors that you might soon be freed ... but when will the Golden **** rise in Yelang? A star called the Golden **** was a symbol of amnesty to the ancient Chinese. Yongchang was a hot, humid region of Yunnan to the south of Hengyang, and was presumably too hot and too far to the south for geese to fly there. Luo Jiang's Second Complaint by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The green hills vanished, pedestrians passed by disappearing beyond curves. The geese grew silent, the horseshoes timid. Winter is the most annoying season! A lone goose vanished into the heavens, the trees whispered conspiracies in Pingwu, and people huddling behind buildings shivered. Bitter Rain, an Aria of the Yellow Oriole by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These ceaseless rains make the spring shiver: even the flowers and trees look cold! The roads turn to mud; the river's eyes are tired and weep into a few bays; the mountain clouds accumulate like ***** dishes, and the end of the world seems imminent, if jejune. I find it impossible to send books: the geese are ruthless and refuse to fly south to Yunnan! Broken-Hearted Poem by Huang E loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My tears cascade into the inkwell; my broken heart remains at a loss for words; ever since we held hands and said farewell, I have been too listless to paint my eyebrows; no medicine can cure my night-sweats, no wealth repurchase our lost youth; and how can I persuade that ****** bird singing in the far hills to tell a traveler south of the Yangtze to return home? These are my modern English translations of poems by the Chinese poet Huang E (1498–1569), also known as Huang Xiumei. She has been called the most outstanding female poet of the Ming Dynasty, and her husband its most outstanding male poet. Were they poetry’s first power couple? Her father Huang Ke was a high-ranking official of the Ming court and she married Yang Shen, the prominent son of Grand Secretary Yang Tinghe. Unfortunately for the young power couple, Yang Shen was exiled by the emperor early in their marriage and they lived largely apart for 30 years. During their long separations they would send each other poems which may belong to a genre of Chinese poetry I have dubbed "sorrows of the wild geese." Springtime Prayer by Michael R. Burch They’ll have to grow like crazy, the springtime baby geese, if they’re to fly to balmier climes when autumn dismembers the leaves ... And so I toss them loaves of bread, then whisper an urgent prayer: “Watch over these, my Angels, if there’s anyone kind, up there.” Originally published by Borderless Journal (Singapore) The Mallard by Michael R. Burch The mallard is a fellow whose lips are long and yellow with which he, honking, kisses his ***** boisterous mistress: my pond’s their loud bordello! Kindred (II) by Michael R. Burch Rise, pale disastrous moon! What is love, but a heightened effect of time, light and distance? Did you burn once, before you became so remote, so detached, so coldly, inhumanly lustrous, before you were able to assume the very pallor of love itself? What is the dawn now, to you or to me? We are as one, out of favor with the sun. We would exhume the white corpse of love for a last dance, and yet we will not. We will let her be, let her abide, for she is nothing now, to you or to me. Hangovers by Michael R. Burch We forget that, before we were born, our parents had “lives” of their own, ran drunk in the streets, or half-stoned. Yes, our parents had lives of their own until we were born; then, undone, they were buying their parents gravestones and finding gray hairs of their own (because we were born lacking some of their curious habits, but soon would certainly get them). Half-stoned, we watched them dig graves of their own. Their lives would be over too soon for their curious habits to bloom in us (though our children were born nine months from that night on the town when, punch-drunk in the streets or half-stoned, we first proved we had lives of our own). Breakings by Michael R. Burch I did it out of pity. I did it out of love. I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove. But gods without compassion ordained: Frail things must break! Now what can I do for her shattered psyche’s sake? I did it not to push. I did it not to shove. I did it to assist the flight of indiscriminate Love. But gods, all mad as hatters, who legislate in all such matters, ordained that everything irreplaceable shatters. Habeas Corpus by Michael R. Burch from “Songs of the Antinatalist” I have the results of your DNA analysis. If you want to have children, this may induce paralysis. I wish I had good news, but how can I lie? Any offspring you have are guaranteed to die. It wouldn’t be fair—I’m sure you’ll agree— to sentence kids to death, so I’ll waive my fee. Like Angels, Winged by Michael R. Burch Like angels—winged, shimmering, misunderstood— they flit beyond our understanding being neither evil, nor good. They are as they are ... and we are their lovers, their prey; they seek us out when the moon is full and dream of us by day. Their eyes—hypnotic, alluring— trap ours with their strange appeal till like flame-drawn moths, we gather ... to see, to touch, to feel. Held in their arms, enchanted, we feel their lips, so old!, till with their gorging kisses we warm them, growing cold. Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague" by Michael R. Burch THE PLAGUE has come again To darken lives of men and women, girls and boys; Death proves their bodies toys Too frail to even cry. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Tycoons, what use is wealth? You cannot buy good health! Physicians cannot heal Themselves, to Death must kneel. Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty’s brightest flower? Devoured in an hour. Kings, Queens and Presidents Are fearful residents Of manors boarded high. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! We have no means to save Our children from the grave. Though cure-alls line our shelves, We cannot save ourselves. "Come, come!" the sad bells cry. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! faith(less) by Michael R. Burch Those who believed and Those who misled lie together at last in the same narrow bed and if god loved Them more for Their strange lack of doubt, he kept it well hidden till he snuffed Them out. ah-men! The Cosmological Constant by Michael R. Burch Einstein the frizzy-haired claimed E equals MC squared. Thus all mass decreases as activity ceases? Not my mass, my *** declared! Ass-tronomical by Michael R. Burch Relativity, the theorists’ creed, claims mass increases with speed. My (m)ass grows when I sit it. Mr. Einstein, get with it; equate its deflation, I plead! The Hair Flap by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition" The hair flap was truly a scare: Trump’s bald as a billiard back there! The whole nation laughed At the state of his graft; Now the man’s wigging out, so beware! Salvation of a Formalist, an Ode to Entropy by Michael R. Burch Entropy? God's universal decree That I get to be Disorderly? Suddenly My erstwhile boxed-in verse is free? Wheeeeee! Keywords/Tags: Chinese poetry, China, sorrow, sorrows, geese, rain, heavens, hills, winter, trees, rivers, mountains, books, birds, spring, springtime, baby, babies, pray, prayer, angels

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At times I wish I didn't care and didn't feel anything too deep but if i refused to care at all I wouldn't be here, I wouldn’t be me. Many things I see, I find pre-defined A darkness is left, the kids aren’t alright Yet within the chaos, the shot of hope gleams A chance for redemption, before the final dream. My love unveils both joy and sorrow A kaleidoscope of emotions for today and tomorrow Even in depths of despair, resilience rises Shadows and trials end with silver-lined surprises. To feel deeply is my way to truly live A tapestry weaves the stories I have to give For even in shadows, my light does grow My heart guides me to what the truth knows. So I seek to embrace the highs and lows Through my rivers of tears, a garden grows In vulnerability, I find a reality Worthy of bonding with all humanity.

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Dec 17, 2023

Dec 17, 2023 at 1:18 AM UTC

At times I wish I didn't care and didn't feel anything too deep but if i refused to care at all I wouldn't be here, I wouldn’t be me. Many things I see, I find pre-defined A darkness is left, the kids aren’t alright Yet within the chaos, the shot of hope gleams A chance for redemption, before the final dream. My love unveils both joy and sorrow A kaleidoscope of emotions for today and tomorrow Even in depths of despair, resilience rises Shadows and trials end with silver-lined surprises. To feel deeply is my way to truly live A tapestry weaves the stories I have to give For even in shadows, my light does grow My heart guides me to what the truth knows. So I seek to embrace the highs and lows Through my rivers of tears, a garden grows In vulnerability, I find a reality Worthy of bonding with all humanity.

Continue reading...

Listening to your silence, I heard: Songs and prayers Tranquility and music Tears and smiles Laughters and cries Despair and hope Sorrows and joys Loathing and longing Passion and peace Whispers and loud voices Hussein Dekmak

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Aug 13, 2023

Aug 13, 2023 at 5:44 AM UTC

Listening to your silence

Listening to your silence, I heard: Songs and prayers Tranquility and music Tears and smiles Laughters and cries Despair and hope Sorrows and joys Loathing and longing Passion and peace Whispers and loud voices Hussein Dekmak

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I see you looking back at me, but I have no memory of you, no name or event to link us as kindred soul. There's a sun playing expressionless games about to fall from the shelf, my feet may burn, but never my heart. My mirror is a broken window, the broken window, a city, and a man and woman are crossing into it, —crossing my mind, fused together. Their laughter like claps of thunder, bursting forth in a sky devoid of any signs of me...

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Nov 21, 2022

Nov 21, 2022 at 6:40 AM UTC

The Whipgraft Delusion

I see you looking back at me, but I have no memory of you, no name or event to link us as kindred soul. There's a sun playing expressionless games about to fall from the shelf, my feet may burn, but never my heart. My mirror is a broken window, the broken window, a city, and a man and woman are crossing into it, —crossing my mind, fused together. Their laughter like claps of thunder, bursting forth in a sky devoid of any signs of me...

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Sky of sooth broke into rain Fell upon me Drowned me deep Deep into grief

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Mar 21, 2021

Mar 21, 2021 at 2:03 PM UTC

Sky of sooth broke into rain Fell upon me Drowned me deep Deep into grief

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In the rain out with an umbrella black, Standing still with the weights on your shoulder. Passes by the passengers of time, Leaving footprints of moments enclosed in your mind. Traveling and meeting eyes, With strangers you may never find Again in this lifetime... Lost in the sands of time. Feeling broken and the heart heavy, Hurt in ways never imagined. Drifting down the window pane like rain, In solace you find your stay.

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Nov 1, 2020

Nov 1, 2020 at 5:35 AM UTC

Bad Nail Coffin

In the rain out with an umbrella black, Standing still with the weights on your shoulder. Passes by the passengers of time, Leaving footprints of moments enclosed in your mind. Traveling and meeting eyes, With strangers you may never find Again in this lifetime... Lost in the sands of time. Feeling broken and the heart heavy, Hurt in ways never imagined. Drifting down the window pane like rain, In solace you find your stay.

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_Vellichor (n.): the strange wistfulness of used bookstores._

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Oct 20, 2020

Oct 20, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC

Obscure Sorrows

_Vellichor (n.): the strange wistfulness of used bookstores._

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We believed in our own sorrows, and drunk the last sip of relief until the reigns were lost in the forest. Now, we are deserted to the realm of the ocean’s abyss, left to kiss the lotion smoothing the desert on my skin. I abandoned all hope, including the ship in the saving grace of preventing my loss of a superficial fantasy. Shackled, left to roam freely in our thoughts, breathing for freedom is impossible in the last stages of cancer. When my body gives in to cells eating away my life, I too, will say goodbye to my long-standing dreams that were aboard.

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Oct 18, 2020

Oct 18, 2020 at 6:09 AM UTC

ValentineVampires

We believed in our own sorrows, and drunk the last sip of relief until the reigns were lost in the forest. Now, we are deserted to the realm of the ocean’s abyss, left to kiss the lotion smoothing the desert on my skin. I abandoned all hope, including the ship in the saving grace of preventing my loss of a superficial fantasy. Shackled, left to roam freely in our thoughts, breathing for freedom is impossible in the last stages of cancer. When my body gives in to cells eating away my life, I too, will say goodbye to my long-standing dreams that were aboard.

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When a person is drowning or struggling through life , he doesn't make a sound ! You'll see him laughing his heart out . A man with great humor . A man is sweet a suger blend with others just like suger blends with water . You'll see him shining Blowing conversations with home's Cheering other's . But there always a other side of a coin , There always a dark side of the moon . Let's forget about his hidden depression , sorrows his tears... What about the little things we miss out ?? When he asks i need you ? When he left the party after everyone's left ? When he talks deeply to cheer other , where is this comes from ? When he Post's something sad online and everyone mocks him around . When he spend hours in bed , sleepless ..? Have you noticed his playlists '" where the light in your deep dark room '"...... Have anyone noticed his health shrinking ? Have anyone notices he's offline for days ? Please notice . Please be there

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Sep 8, 2020

Sep 8, 2020 at 12:01 PM UTC

The girl who is tired

When a person is drowning or struggling through life , he doesn't make a sound ! You'll see him laughing his heart out . A man with great humor . A man is sweet a suger blend with others just like suger blends with water . You'll see him shining Blowing conversations with home's Cheering other's . But there always a other side of a coin , There always a dark side of the moon . Let's forget about his hidden depression , sorrows his tears... What about the little things we miss out ?? When he asks i need you ? When he left the party after everyone's left ? When he talks deeply to cheer other , where is this comes from ? When he Post's something sad online and everyone mocks him around . When he spend hours in bed , sleepless ..? Have you noticed his playlists '" where the light in your deep dark room '"...... Have anyone noticed his health shrinking ? Have anyone notices he's offline for days ? Please notice . Please be there

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‪I tried existing truthfully;‬ I made one and a thousand mistakes Some of them alike white lies, Yet most of them are tragic. I asked for forgiveness, I beg. I lay down on my knees ahead My heart, I heard— screaming, praying Devouring for merciful hands. To seek the face of God, I no longer wanted to suffer for They see me brave, but nothing of a dolor And I ask Him, hear me out once more In the midst of midnight confusion, I no longer wanted to fight anymore; I wanted to end the pain in galore— And for people to find my name buried in store.

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May 22, 2020

May 22, 2020 at 8:51 AM UTC

Midnight Sorrow

‪I tried existing truthfully;‬ I made one and a thousand mistakes Some of them alike white lies, Yet most of them are tragic. I asked for forgiveness, I beg. I lay down on my knees ahead My heart, I heard— screaming, praying Devouring for merciful hands. To seek the face of God, I no longer wanted to suffer for They see me brave, but nothing of a dolor And I ask Him, hear me out once more In the midst of midnight confusion, I no longer wanted to fight anymore; I wanted to end the pain in galore— And for people to find my name buried in store.

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In the bed the thorns out Piercing through my skin The red liquid flowing, peeling My body hollow. I want it, I need it I don't want to stay so I'm going Save the blessings for your sins You don't owe me nothing. Escaping the purgatory As the heart bleeds out Bones shed the skin Overcoming the impending doom. Slowly the world fades As my eyes turns black My soul subtly rise To reach the depths of hell. The last time I breathe in To fulfil my last wishes Grant myself death As it offers me in its cold palm.

0

Aug 3, 2020

Aug 3, 2020 at 6:25 AM UTC

In the bed the thorns out Piercing through my skin The red liquid flowing, peeling My body hollow. I want it, I need it I don't want to stay so I'm going Save the blessings for your sins You don't owe me nothing. Escaping the purgatory As the heart bleeds out Bones shed the skin Overcoming the impending doom. Slowly the world fades As my eyes turns black My soul subtly rise To reach the depths of hell. The last time I breathe in To fulfil my last wishes Grant myself death As it offers me in its cold palm.

Continue reading...

I have been listening to you. To all your worries and pain, your sorrows and tears, your brokenness and shame. I've witnessed everything, held you heart and loved you all the same. But when my time came and all of me became broken, why did you throw me away?

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Jul 29, 2020

Jul 29, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC

I have been listening to you. To all your worries and pain, your sorrows and tears, your brokenness and shame. I've witnessed everything, held you heart and loved you all the same. But when my time came and all of me became broken, why did you throw me away?

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my nightstand is full of unread books, lavender candles and leather journals. i like to keep books beside my bed because i would like to read someone else's outlook on life instead of writing about my sorrows.

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Jul 13, 2020

Jul 13, 2020 at 11:22 AM UTC

my nightstand is full of unread books, lavender candles and leather journals. i like to keep books beside my bed because i would like to read someone else's outlook on life instead of writing about my sorrows.

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Broken mirrors Broken hearts Broken minds Like shards of glass The patterns forming a work of art Shrouded by demons of the past The black cat saunters over Tipping salt as he alludes To the bad luck I can’t dispose of Rubbing salt into my wounds. I see an Orthodox priest A ***** blonde with blue eyes The people murmur as he passes by Garlic, they cry, To fight the psychotic presence In order to eliminate This demonic essence. He blessed an expectant mother In flat #43 He doesn’t recognise her folly And leaves her in glee. A young soldier One among 3 Died after his cigarette was lit From the same matchstick As the clock struck 4 A constant reminder Of its incessant tick-tock In spite of the woe The woman- pregnant no more Comes to the cemetery threshold Wishing her late husband And stillborn boy cheerio. I look at the sky There they glide, the harbingers of evil Thick billed ravens and crows A symbol of one’s sorrows Flying over the dead In search of a feast of despair. Leaving my new shoes on the table I kiss my love’s forehead And point at the rainbow outside While thinking I’m the luckiest woman alive.

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May 24, 2020

May 24, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC

Broken mirrors Broken hearts Broken minds Like shards of glass The patterns forming a work of art Shrouded by demons of the past The black cat saunters over Tipping salt as he alludes To the bad luck I can’t dispose of Rubbing salt into my wounds. I see an Orthodox priest A ***** blonde with blue eyes The people murmur as he passes by Garlic, they cry, To fight the psychotic presence In order to eliminate This demonic essence. He blessed an expectant mother In flat #43 He doesn’t recognise her folly And leaves her in glee. A young soldier One among 3 Died after his cigarette was lit From the same matchstick As the clock struck 4 A constant reminder Of its incessant tick-tock In spite of the woe The woman- pregnant no more Comes to the cemetery threshold Wishing her late husband And stillborn boy cheerio. I look at the sky There they glide, the harbingers of evil Thick billed ravens and crows A symbol of one’s sorrows Flying over the dead In search of a feast of despair. Leaving my new shoes on the table I kiss my love’s forehead And point at the rainbow outside While thinking I’m the luckiest woman alive.

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You are forever gone, leaving me to do nothing but mourn the death of someone held so dear, made by the world to seem so mere. As if you were just another statistic, By the next day, they'd forget And be having a picnic. Whilst my mind struggled to comprehend, how to deal with the loss of such a close friend. How to honour your name, in a way it would feel you were here, just the same. People die every day, bringing more pain than words can say. Every day, people are forgotten, as their corpses rotten, by their loved ones like the world taught 'em, to grieve and forget, forget they ever met. Your death becomes another story, Even though you meant much more to me. Your memory fades, by the passing of the days. I worry that I will forget your face, I worry someone will steal your place. As the days pass by, they expect be to accept your death and be okay. But my heart still aches for you in every way. I vow to grieve for you every day. For acceptance would mean saying goodbye. Acceptance would mean taking away what's left of your life.

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May 11, 2020

May 11, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC

You are forever gone, leaving me to do nothing but mourn the death of someone held so dear, made by the world to seem so mere. As if you were just another statistic, By the next day, they'd forget And be having a picnic. Whilst my mind struggled to comprehend, how to deal with the loss of such a close friend. How to honour your name, in a way it would feel you were here, just the same. People die every day, bringing more pain than words can say. Every day, people are forgotten, as their corpses rotten, by their loved ones like the world taught 'em, to grieve and forget, forget they ever met. Your death becomes another story, Even though you meant much more to me. Your memory fades, by the passing of the days. I worry that I will forget your face, I worry someone will steal your place. As the days pass by, they expect be to accept your death and be okay. But my heart still aches for you in every way. I vow to grieve for you every day. For acceptance would mean saying goodbye. Acceptance would mean taking away what's left of your life.

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