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and i, i ask why
my life goes on and on
and i, i ask why
i'm alive
                                                                                          - g.w
dichotomy. i was doing an acapella freestyle.
the moon asked the crow, why.
they didn't tell you
you would still feel empty
with a crown on your head
 Oct 2016 Taki Kumiko
tl b
She dancingly sways,
a tree, grown old,
draped in amber, in gold.

And while the wind wracks,
her skirt holds tight
until she deems fit,
losing her gown to Jack's
choice linens of white.

Now standing,
bare, taut skin,
a woody skeleton.
I am a prisoner,
without being confined.
I am a hostage,
Within my own mind.
No walls or wires,
No bricks to detain.
No bars or cuffs,
But still I'm in chains.
Thoughts of you,
Grip me tight.
Throughout the day,
Throughout the night.
I'm in solitary,
Alone as I wonder,
This punishment
I'm under.
You're not my punisher,
But rather my light.
Am I wrong,
Or am I right?
Are you my letter?
My glimpse of home?
Or just a dream,
Inside this dome?
I'm being held captive,
Inside my head.
My mind is racing,
But heavy as lead.
I wait for my freedom.
It's fleeting at best.
Only when you're near,
Is this prison at rest.
She walks upon the glass
Forced to maintain a smile,
With the spectators on the sidelines
Chanting mile after mile.

Every step grows
More painful than the last.
Her soul slowly draining
Through the wounds of her past.

Nobody ever told her
The road was paved with glass.
All they ever said was,
"This too shall pass."

That's not a fair warning
And she's too far to turn back.
So she just continues to bleed
Letting her heart turn black.
For my daughter and all of those that suffer from depression.
 Oct 2016 Taki Kumiko
curlygirl
the hardest
part of
letting someone
you love
go is
making yourself
stay away
Atoms as old as stars,
Mutation on mutation,
Millions and millions of cells
Dividing yet still the same,
From air and changing earth,
From ancient Eastern rivers,
From turquoise tropic seas,
Unto myself I came.

My spirit like my flesh
Sprang from a thousand sources,
From cave-man, hunter and shepherd,
From Karnak, Cyprus, Rome;
The living thoughts in me
Spring from dead men and women,
Forgotten time out of mind
And many as bubbles of foam.

Here for a moment’s space
Into the light out of darkness,
I come and they come with me
Finding words with my breath;
From the wisdom of many life-times
I hear them cry: “Forever
Seek for Beauty, she only
Fights with man against Death!”
Thank you for stalking me.  
You are my number one fan.
Thank you for stalking me and changing my poems on the internet.
Would you like my autograph?
Thank you Hacker you hack my poetry pages and change my poems around to let me know you're stalking me.  I feel so important.
I don't know why I reopen old wounds.

I guess it's because I just want to
Feel Again.
Wound me,
Again.
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