Behold the my face, so serene, I'm every part of the scene;
the crucified, the prosecutor as well the chorus.
When I breath my chests cage shows gaps ,the focus.
Here you are again my parade of pestilence my imbalanced state showing as ailments.
My sides tearing, stress penetrating my skin. Tragic,
Oh how the spear of reproach entangles and dives deep,
Piercing my belly and lets it noxious poison seep.

I beg 'No please do not twist', he then spoke of my dying dreams and loses to the soul.
The knots bind my thought and any move in conciseness has it toll.
The darkness strives for my sight but he knows how to not give it room.
The poisoned tip barley nearly missed my heart , I thought it the end, I relaxed too soon.
The tincture of doubt burns my open sensitive soft non-flesh.
Am I not one of the blessed, where is my place of rest?

The jury spectate from its pedestal, good for nothin but blaming.
His aim was never my life only that which makes it worth living.
His aim was the spark, my soul, the light at the end of the tunnel showing it all, so you don't stay down when you fall.

The earth knows me from My hands, feet and knees.
I rarely pray only spoke if it preceded an action, I fell a lot you see.
Now I walk with caution but my legs can barely take the weight.
My breathing and steps were heavy. you wouldn't have know my pain by my face
This has been my truth I believed it fate.
Early I realized wherever I sat was a throne.
Hubris led me to take on the woes and faults of the world as if they were my own.

The jury clamor great hollow truths, to lessen the sentences existence.
As much as they are valid and grand I see them only as excuses
"You will pain those who you love and love you"
"You will forsake the hopes and dreams in your view"
"You are good, only want the best for everyone "
Was it that ambiguity that lead to my current "wrong"
Seems if you aim to give others happiness you will never win
I know this but I still hurt: it's all starts and ends within.

Woe is me
Been on the darker end of melancholy, A discription of my anxiety/depression attacks recently
It's the blend of black and white
The collapsing of good and evil
Like parallel universes becoming one
Like the pull of an angel to the dark side
Or of a devil redeemed
Or like two children at play
rolling down opposite sided hills
Until they meet in the middle of a valley
But gray is not just two colors combined
It is a feeling too
Like an uninvited dark cloud
Looming over head
Crowding you in an empty room
Gray can even be a sensation
A feeling of breathlessness
Despite knowing that your lungs work perfectly
It is the color of numbness
Of no personality and "I don't care"
Its the color of not having an appetite
And a lack of social interaction
Gray is the black and white feeling of a panic attack
When the lights start to blend together
But that slowly turns black as you start to disassociate from the world around you
And you only hear your ears ringing and your heart beat

Heart beat...

The one thing that makes us real
The one thing that we all have in common.

BUT we have more than just hearts
We have minds

Minds that make the human race diverse

Gray is the color of diversity
It represents the complete blend of black and white

To think of the world in black and white would be a crime
Not because there is never a right or a wrong
But because when you see the world in gray,
You witness a world of beauty, pain, error
Emotions that don't exist in clean margins

I love the world that I see in gray.

Can you see it too?
Sara Kellie Jul 9
She's a new born under
protective cover,
with a shield like no other from her
umbilical Mother.
Covered from head to toe by the
artists jacket.
In clear polythene for you to admire,
not attack it.
Or the mobster paid in Lira to stop
anyone going near her,
when all that she needs
is the unconditional love
from the bosum that
feeds her.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Written by Kaydee,
a woman with no womb.
AS Mar 2
Don’t condemn those different from your expectations and functioning in this world.
Passers-by,
isolators,
strict doers,
routine goers,
chaotic minds,
oblivious but kind,
paths and pains unknown.
Their differences not an attack,
survival in fact.
Disconnecting to explore and grow more.
Striving to find something to adore.
To find comfort in their selves,
acceptance to move on.
Everyone lives life at a difference rates.
Experiences and mourns past tragedies at a different pace.
Life is not a race,
not a place to pass judgement.
Do feel what they feel,
have you seen what they've seen and felt their desperation to feel serene.    
Felt their fight to end the endless night.
Have some grace that everyone has no yet found their place.
Wash off that mace upon your face!
Do they inflict pain or malice?
Don’t be a disgrace,
judging things you do not know.
Don’t be cruel to those who presence creates discomfort.
Smile,
be polite and then just be another passer-by.
As no one has the right to rain down on those fighting to survive.



© 2018
Abigail Sheard
AS Jan 23
When you think you’re finally free, all want to do is see and thrive.
Wandering around curiously like a child, questioning everything here and there.
Then a boundary crossing monster appears with malicious intent.
The work done to undo the pain, all seems to be in vain.
Worried and still, afraid to witness others judgement and stare.
Reduced to old habits of isolation and numbing.
Being smothered with an egotistical painful air.
Stirring anxiety of a person who’s worked tirelessly to mend.
An angry boy!
Reflecting his manifested discomfort onto people who struggle and recently found the courage to begin to speak.
No excuses for anyone, but the person in the mirror.
Domineering, loud and thriving off creating an uncomfortable crowd.
Behaviours of a bully, lashing out in his own obvious anguish.
But really what is there to gain?
Oblivious maybe?
Ignorant?
Or not to giving a shit!
That venom he spits, even when begged to restrict.
Offended by reducing a girl to tears, who is recovering from some traumatic monumental years.
PTSD that is her shame, the highest highs and the lowest lows.
Spiralling back into the black hole, which is on the brink of destroying her soul.
Triggered flashbacks constantly every day!
To those days you take the steps, plunging into the extremes.
Feeling that you can no longer breathe, feeling there is only one answer.
No energy or sanity left, you come close many times to taking your last breath.
So, remember when someone asks, just to stop and let go.
Don’t carry on and on and on….
Until someone see’s there is no point to carry on.
Look at the words you say, do not take their agony as an attack and the social ways they lack.


© 2018
Abigail Sheard
193
Heart attack, Falling flat
Getting shot, in the gut
Lethal injection, in the vains
Facing rejection, feeling pain

None compare to your heart being broken
By the one who promised
You everything
Dan Beyer Jun 26
I leave the strong weak
I stop many in their tracks
My presence is contagious
I'll give you a heart attack

Give me an invitation.
Yeah, you can be the host
I'll eat you up from within
Looks like you seen a ghost

Parasitic emotion
Only care if I survive
Surround you with commotion
Hypothalamus joyride

Adrenaline is pumping
Breathe in and out fastpaced
Heart begins a-thumpin'
Muscles staining just in case

I treat many on their deathbed
And some I give a high
Others I make drop dead
So tell me,

What am I?
____ is a parasite and I, it's host.
Bella 1d
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see things
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while

sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside

maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton balls in my throat

maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin

have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
and your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word

maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, organ, and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me

can you imagine the feeling having something so utterly gross on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleaned
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine every muscle organ vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your outer layer of skin disgusted you
imagine all you wanted to do was GET
IT OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off

imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking into your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
As I resigned my eyes to bidden sleep,

Cavorting with the prelude to a dream,

I heard a voice, so baritone and deep

Resound and force from me a girlish scream,



Imperious, a figure stood in black,

No more than sixteen inches from my bed

And holding something awful in a sack

And through that cloth I saw that 'something' bled,



"Identify yourself!" I said in fear,

Pretending to assume a righteous stance,

The interloper drew its shadow near

And spoke in tones of doom and dead romance:



"Bestill thy beating heart, you harried fool,

For time, much like a criminal is sly

And whilst your life is precious as a jewel,

The years, my friend will leap and pass you by"



A thoughtful pause and then the ghoul declared:

"I have with me a most important tome,

Considering you wish your penance spared,

You'll take this book and write for me a poem."



Contentious with the quarrels of the grave,

I took the gift and then it passed a pen,

Within the book the dark insurgent gave

I saw a space to write a specimen:



" I mean no rudeness, sir but this is weird,

To write a poem while fearing for my soul,

My artists rationale has disappeared

Into the pit, the anxious rabbit-hole",



The spectre drew itself to frightening height,

It's eyes, a pair of molten-metal cores,

I passed a shriek, a squeak of mortal fright,

The spirit spoke, its voice now cold and hoarse:



"You'll write if life is valuable in worth

Else death will be your ultimate reward,

My time is sparing here upon this Earth,

Now write! - or feel the malice of my sword."



I cowered as a ghoulish scimitar

Appeared, it's edging drawn against my throat,

I caught the window, saw the bright North Star

And filled with slipping sanity I wrote:



"A star may burn but deep inside it's dead,

The glow emitted, like a skin is shed

To fall upon the upturned eyes below,

But life not death is all those people know,



They ponder on cadavers of the stars,

Make myths of mighty Jupiter and Mars,

They do not see discorporate decay

But rather kneel below that light and pray,



To those immersed in starburst, comfort calls

And horoscopes are read with crystal balls,

The dead-lights of the dormant filter through

With wishes made, perchance they may come true



The act of dying never seemed so fair

As supernova starlight everywhere."



The book began to float up to its host,

I felt that phantom cutlass-blade withdraw,

I dared to cast a look upon the ghost

And as it spoke, its voice was grave no more:



"This sonnet is a rarity to find,

A thing, I'd say of fascinating form,

So why then, fool would talent be resigned

To lay down dead and never to perform?



These thoughts you catch, these images you write

Are something special, needing to be shared,

Instead you claim you hate the very sight

Of every poem and story you prepared. "



The ghoul then hoisted up his bag of blood,

I jerked, afearing now a heart-attack

But saw the beating bag and understood

My coward's heart was trapped within that sack,



The spirit, nodding opened up my prize,

I screamed and tried to turn away my head

But something dragged my unaccepting eyes

Toward that throbbing avatar of dread,



I wept and shook in fits before the wraith,

It took away the sack and sternly said:

"You gave your heart away through lack of faith

And now it's mine to terrorise instead,



You know of me, no doubt you see it now,

I am the institution that you built,

For everything you do and disavow,

You feed the hungry demon of your Guilt,



Your death, my friend will make you very rich,

Your letters will achieve a cult embrace

And as your corpse lies rotting in that ditch,

The world might recognise that dead-man's face,



Your final words will be of harsh regret

For all the ones you kept away inside,

I'll own your heart completely, claim the debt

Accrued by your remorse and rusted pride",



I clutched my chest and looked to where my palm

Lay pressed against a neatly sutured stitch,

Above it all, I tried to keep my calm,

Addressing my intentions to the the Lich:



"I want it back, that heart is mine not yours!

You get enough to eat from daily grief,

I'll never die regretting in remorse,

I'll never give surrender to a thief!



I'll tell the world what misery avails

Within this head, this heart I cannot hear,

I'll vomit up my erudite entrails

With only something soulless left to bare,



You say you see the beauty in the grim,

The contours of a sculpture made of pain,

I'll take that bet and go out on a limb

If only so I own my heart again",



The spectre chuckled, throwing back its hood,

Its laughter hollow, full of scornful spite,

And what I saw was something no man should,

I saw my own visage upon the wight,



It threw my captive heart upon the floor

And smiled, a grin of sarcasm and hate:

"Until we meet again when you're no more",

With that, I watched myself disintegrate,



My bedspread bore no load aside from mine,

The heart, the sack, the blood; an empty space,

I checked, my chest redundant of a line,

Of surgery and scars, there was no trace ,



My heart, I found was thumping in my breast,

I threw the quilt aside and sprang awake,

Without a thought for even getting dressed

I seized my pen and wrote until daybreak



And as the sun was cresting for the dawn

I stilled the flowing ink and broke the spell,

I looked to see what wisdom had been born

And this is what my conscience had to tell,



That flowers only blossom in the sun

And lack of it will only make them wilt,

The dreams we shun like laces left undone

Will leave our hearts torn out, consumed by guilt.
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