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Thomas Holzapfel Dec 2015
She believes she is dirt
Just the dust of life.
Jumps from the bridge
To rage from the deep.
To feel a beat from inside.
Rapes what was love
For a feeling to rise.
Thomas Holzapfel Dec 2015
Persecuted of voice
Feet split open
On screaming glass.
Movement incarcerated,
Pain wrenched inside the gut
Breath becomes sharp.

You say you love me
Yet your tongue
Tears us apart.
Thomas Holzapfel Dec 2015
She keeps sorrow to herself
Night too day.
Whispers to the wind,
Defenceless to hope.
The senses tingle
When the needle slides in.

No sun will rise
For her broken eyes.
Her body surrenders
To the pale evening sky.
Thomas Holzapfel Dec 2015
I am a psychopath

My morals are limp
My mouth speaks trash
****** appetite is wild
I crashed the car for a laugh

I am a ******
.                   path.
Thomas Holzapfel Nov 2015
Spring harbour lights
Wash the face
Coffee screeching
From departed bars.
Morning erupts
From the burnt embers
Of yesterday
  Nov 2015 Thomas Holzapfel
ThePoet
They don't know how it feels

to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

They don't know how it feels

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

They don't know how it feels

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken

They don't know how it feels

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open

©
Thomas Holzapfel Nov 2015
Her smile lost
In a crowd of make-up
Endangered suffering,
Alone.
Whispers of history
Carved to the skin.
Cursed by the waters
Cursed and loved
By the wrong hand.
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