"Do you hear the sound of her heart,"
Chloe 

The girl standing in the corner, all alone,
Wearing the face kept in a jar by the door,
Cries silently in the night when she's at home,
And nobody's there to see her fall to the floor.

Do you see the pink lines peeking out,
Under thick layers of cotton, in the hot summer day?
Do you hear the sound of her heart,
Cracking, shattering, with every insult she takes?

I don't think you do, I honestly don't,
From the way you stare with scornful eyes,
To the acid that drips from you lips,
I can tell that you don't know what your words can do.

"but never utter a sound"
Melody W 

October winds always did
make the sparrows
alter their songs;
yet, the deviation
was never great enough
that one would notice

unless, of course,
one were slightly
more in tune
with the subtle tweaks
of the universe on
seemingly ordinary days

Strangely enough,
the least likely person
was always the one
most severely affected,
suddenly trembling in the corner

Once in a seldom while,
(at the least expected time)
when the tide begins to lap hungrily
at pale deformed rocks
encrusted with sea urchins

an odd rustling in the air,
unlike that of the wind
but rather something
different altogether,
can be felt

as babies turn in their cribs
gazing solemnly at
thick starless nights
but never utter a sound

and mothers shiver
at whispers of their own
ephemeral youth reflected
in their babies’ watchful eyes

©MW
"And if out loud it doesn't sound too profound."
April Watson 

I read so much poetry i've started to think in rhymes,
then I start to wonder if i'm good enough to write a few lines.

Always thinking in words that'll get me some kind of verse.
Something that sounds not too predictable and hopefully not rehearsed.

I wonder if it in my head is as good as it is written down.
And if out loud it doesn't sound too profound.

I want to create something that has a hook.
Something that makes you take a second look.

It'll be simple but deep from the heart.
Some one will read it and say "that's fine art".

Ryan Hodges Nov 2012

Elsdorf, Düsseldorf, Erbendorf, Greiz
Gengenbach, Hilchenbach, Kelsterbach, Schleiz
Siegburg, Lichtenberg, Wesenberg, Jülich
Schnackensee, Radensee, Dillensee, Munich

Delbrück, Kindelbrück, Bersenbrück, Sußen
Eibelstadt, Diemelstadt, Glückenstadt, Stößen
Traunstein, Taunusstein, Uffenheim, Zwönitz
Ziegenrück, Innenbrück, Osnabrück, Zöblitz

Wietmarschen-Schwartenpohlerbruch

These are cities in Germany. If you're familiar with German pronunciation, this will flow better.
"The sound of my own breath"
Tessellate 

Save me.
Save me from the
place inside of me that Loathes my
existence.

help, it is pulling me
down.
Dragging me deeper into to this
dark
cold place
full of everything i hate. like
you, and me.
i hate You more than anything on the face of this planet, well
except for me.

i hate me hate me more than a mother hates the murderer of Her
own Child.

this Calamitous pit inside me
like a Rabbit's hole i can
Never escape, no matter how i
scratch at the sides until my
fingers
bleed.

there is a lot of blood
in this place.
It's the poison inside of me, the reason
why i breathe in short, wispy breaths. It's got to be
the answer. i've got to get the poison
out.

i dig and dig.
dig, dig, dig, dig
and not once do i cry
of pain.

i dig and dig. deeper
and deeper.
the Hot Malicious wine of my pain flows all around me and the world turns grey as my head begins to spin. i hear You. i know how much You hate me.

LEAVE ME ALONE GOD DAMMIT

the only colour i see now is the deep red of a rose as i clench my hands tighter around the thorns and then
Drip.

Drip.

The sound of my own breath
shocks me. i lay at the bottom of the bottomless cistern inside of my soul.
the air in my lungs hissing, as i lay there broken. Vulnerable.  
in a pool of my own sorrow, thick and dark. You have left me
to die.

You were the only one i let into this place
You pushed me down. You killed me

please Someone help before the rasp in my chest completely fades.

i just threw this one together. also, i have this thing for grammar where i just make it up as i go.
i never capitalize "i", because i am not important.
"Nothing but the sound of my old self screaming;"
Tessellate 

The world around me is silent.
I can see the leaves floating,
in mercy of the crisp wind.
I see the children playing,
too young to know the pain that
drips from the intentional wounds in my flesh.
I see those who were once my friends,
holding hands and kissing the one's they love.
All this life goes on around me,
still I hear nothing.
Nothing but the sound of my old self screaming;
locked away in that special place inside of me,
to which I've seemed to have lost the key.

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