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Shatter, shatter, shatter
In my mind I dumbly wonder
Shatter, shatter, shatter
Is my heart torn asunder?

Like the broken window
My panes are cracked
My billowing sorrows
In a corner I stacked

Till someone comes
I wait in the twilight
To warm my heart so numb
My heart of glass, in the darkest night
A.D.D. strikes and I saw the word glass
As I suffer and bleed
To the never ending pain
To which once, I cried "yield"
All things in vain, all in vain

I hear them speak
Whispers in the harsh winds
Like a snowstorm at it's peak
The Humans' unmerciful fiends

I bleed once more
My weary, troubled mind
My heavy burned core
In myself thorns I did bind

Thorns of unending Agony
Of Anguish and Despair
Like the endless sea
The deeper it is, the less I care

But for all this Pain and Trials
I stand at Fate's own door
Happiness to myself is in denial
I begged to make all this no more

So once more, we rise
We fall and stand high
Toppling in our own demise
Until we learn to try and try

Deep into ourselves we scarred
For all of this, we alone bore
Even when our faces with grief, marred
There's still Plenty More To Suffer For
Hi, it seems like last night I was suicidal and beyond help.  Yes, true, I tried cutting my wrists at the best. It's my nature, and my curse. I drowned in my own peers' disappointment and scorn last night. And I guess, my half-filled cup of patience and endurance just started to overflow so... I admit to having nearly committed a grave mistake to the ones who still cared. My dear mother most of all, would have her heart broken. And some people did reply last night, to which I have only recently read before this poem. And I said to myself, 'Hey, maybe there are still good people out there. People who can hear my teeny tiny voice,'. To those, thank you for caring. Now, I'm still seeking help with people and medications. And I hope, no I wish, to stand and stay strong till I go to the end of this, and I will do so.
Here lies my last poem
A sorrowful song indeed
In this unjustly world we heed
As I separate from thine harem

I cooked thee thy last meal
For I am afraid you are hungry still
And with ye I share smiles of coy
For my soul tonight goes with the envoy

The never sleeping envoy of the void
The never winking master of DEATH
To him my life, shall he be overjoyed
For he awaits me in his lowest PIT

For tonight I fill my "patience cup"
And this suffering I can't stop
For the sons of Shame hath given
With Depression and Anxiety I was stricken

With the last drop in full
My heart sank low and turned cruel
My mind swimming in despair
My final cut I make in my skin so bare

To all who hears this song
Heed my words and join the throng
Help a friend who needs faith
For if not, he shall suffer my tragic FATE
I'm thinking of having my veins cut open tonight, can anyone give me reasons why I should not? I can't stop the feeling of being alone anymore. With many people so cruel and no one understands what I am suffering. My whole life I felt depressed and alone, they always pass my sickness as to not going to church or some **** like that. But here I ask, why would the cruel GOD above make me this being? Why? Did he want me and people like me to suffer? Where is his mercy and love? Where is his compassion? Am I to feel thankful for what he made me into? I just can't stand it anymore, my mind is swirling with thoughts right now and please, if anyone has a great reason as to why I must continue to suffer, I will listen.
What makes a perfect poem?
Is it the right words?
Or the right rhyme?
Or is it the way it is written?

Is it the twisted contents?
Or the emotions overflowing?
The relativity of it?
Or is it the surrealism?

Is it the way it makes people shiver?
Or just a plain smile in the lips?
Is it the fact that it is read a lot?
Or is it the poem at all?

So, what makes a perfect poem?
Poem Poetry Questions
The sweet sweet pain
Is a luxury still
In this world so vain
Will you stand still?

To feel the cut
Deep in the flesh
Taste the  blood so hot
So metallic and zest

Will you let it slip?
The blade in your hand?
Will you have death’s grip,
Cut your life like flowing sand?

Will you still be happy?
If you have all but burnt up
Will you ever sing to me?
The Art of Giving Up

So that one day
When I will stand still
And my world in disarray
For the pain I want to ****

So that we may join together
In a place of bliss and comfort
In a place full of sweet laughter
In a place...
Just in a place...
Where we won’t let ourselves falter
Where we stood forth
And never our lives not matter

For I am but a human
Born of the world of lies
Of pretentious showmen
Where law of nature he denies

For we are all but humans
Born of greed and lust
Everyone a monetizing businessman
Indeed we lost our faith and trust

In humanity we all but despaired
The kindness we lost in the waves
Can it not be repaired?
The hearts we blackened, we foolish slaves

Yet we still sing
And our heart still pain bring
For we are but kings
In a kingdom of broken things
When it feels like all is lost
I hate you...
I hate you for making me
Fall in love
I hate you
Because I love you
I hate it
When you stare at me
And compliment my eyes
I hate it when
You touch me
And make me shiver
I hate it when
You hold me near
And kiss me all over
I hate it when
Your lips find mine
I hate it when
You cuddle me
That I feel so warm
I hate it when...
You said you were
Falling in love
I hate it when...
You promised
To be by my side
And I really hate it when
You left me far behind
And you...away
Not even breathing
How could you?
I cursed and hated you...
Because no matter
How much I hate
I still...am deeply
In love with you...
I hate you
For no matter how I try
I just can't hate you
I hate you when
You opened that door
And said goodbye
I hate you when
I walked towards you
And you just passed by
I hate you for
All these things
That I hate about you
For I really hate
The way I am hating you
And the way
You made me feel
Loved, cared, cherished,
That I did not learn
How to hate you
At all...
We came from different Tribes
Children of the great Kabuniyan
We came into being
Children of the Bamboo Forest

We hunt, we gather and fish
Living from Our Mother's gifts
The forest and the mountains
The Cordillera we praise

We chant and sing
The Voices of the Gods
Blessings we bring
and Revelations of Warning

The rituals and offerings
Dances of mystical powers
The humble Rice
and the Great forests

From Apo ni Tulao
To the humble Alan
Unto the God Ini-init
and Apo ni Gwani

We came into being
We children of the forest
Children of the rivers
Children of the ever strong Mountain
I am  half Tinguian, a native of the Philippine Islands. I am proud to have such ancient blood in my veins. Currently, I am learning the Ways of the Tribe.
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