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Tatiana Jan 3
I agree to things i'd rather not do
because i'd rather die than have to lie to you.
Yet what I do for you, I don't agree.
Why the **** can't I just be me?

I just want to be appreciated,
but it seems my value is depreciating.
With every decision I make to fall in line.
Every decision I make to just seem fine.

I play these bad decisions off like they're jokes
because if I don't then I will choke.
On the shame of it all, I can't stand tall.
I deserve the greatest of falls.

These thoughts can't linger anymore
and though it's difficult, I will endure.
The pain inside will no longer hide
and i'll get some help this time.
© Tatiana
I want to start therapy is the theme of this poem
River Reed Mar 12
tHE bEAST lIES dORMANT.

You stumble upon a cave.
Cool breath purges from its mouth;
Waves producing shivers—
Shadowed by curiosity?
Cremating all doubts.

And for one last time,
Reason dictates how you behave.

“Come in, oh ripe blood.”
tHE bEAST’S vOICE tRICKLES oUT.

Amalgamated teeth—hung above,
Saliva drip-drops unto the ones below.
Under your feet,
A tongue of damp-dark snow.
Although... last light lies within,
Hence who’s to claim it isn’t so?
Eyes strain—a distant glow.

tHE bEAST lICKS iTS lIPS.

Slight stumble—
If only you could sense these ***** tricks!
Again steady…

aS tHE bEAST iS tOO.

Desperately you reach for the light,
Blinded by its cathartic might,
You grab tight.
Oh!—how the cave grows darker than night,
Depreciating sight.

tHE bEAST’S hUNGER iS sOOTHED.

Relentlessly you paw for a way out,
But the beast’s mouth has long since shut;
Infinite rut—you scream and shout.
elisabeth Jul 1
Foolish
Really how did I not know
Every feeling I have towards you is a reflection of something within myself

Of course I don't trust you
I have nothing but doubt for myself
My own thoughts contradict one another
I'm afraid to be proud

I can't remember the last time I felt unabashedly proud
I can remember silently rejoicing straight faced after scoring a goal in a soccer game
Brushing off my teammates cheers and shouts

I can remember trying to let my friends know
I'm just a good test taker
That good grades don't equate to intelligence
Subtly depreciating my own source of pride

Too afraid to have ownership
Of any talent or skill
I'd rather halt progress than be granted attention
I'd rather lose all my skills than have superiors with high expectations

So you shouldn't expect me, really
To be capable of loving you
I'll give too much or too little
But I'll never quite be sure you really love me
Yenson Aug 3
In your depreciating Cabral of the putrid collectives
where the poisonous oxygen sears your hackneyed minds
and the history of your undesirable stations colors your visions
painting thoughts in rediffusions of psychopathy tuning whimsical
casting the agitations and hysterics of your fractious diseased sights

Know this for nothing, he who dared show your malignancy
In stance laissez-faire, you erupted unfair troubles, chaos, strife
spurred by knaves, armoured by the green-eyed monster and deceit
boiling with historical wounds, none of my doing or from my habitat
In devious lying tongues you rout my knoll, my name, my heart et al

Now, know this, hate a'fore unknown to me, but not any more
despise will not do, detest and arbor not enough, loathe still not near
a man of peace I trouble you not but in raging madness you pillaged
You paid an army, you conned a town for the bravest it overwhelmed
Now you post your wenches and sell a fable of teasing and confusing

From this heart I do declare, this man can never turn in ***
but no ***** regardless fair or fetching who in your game, I see
that ceaseless passions burns and holds nowt but abominations for all
nurse my soul for pitiless, cruel wicked and witless snakes is too far
say what you may, pen what you will, I see you and all in contempt

I know of time and I know of age and I have known pleasures
but now I also know what hate can do and how evil blackens hearts
save your time and use your cancerous energy elsewhere as you do
to hold I want to share passions with your vacuous wenches untrue
Me see no beauty no more, only mindless effigies and sadist puppets in slime

— The End —