"disarm" poems
Mr. handsome stranger
He’s coming after
Desperate like a last request
Frantic delusional lunatic
Unhinged fragile losing what’s left
Self serving sadomasochistic
Easy on the eyes but doesn’t quite fit in
Playing it cool in social situations
His intelligent banter he claims as his own
With somewhat smart comebacks he practiced at home
Trying so hard that the sweat beads down
Onto his stressed wrinkled furrowed brow
the stories he skillfully misdirected
Carefully darting unwanted questions
Mr. Indiscreet can’t blow his cover
Disarm the girl of his unrealistic dreams
How quite average and normal he can be
Mr. Stalker walks over to the Girl
works up the courage and talks to her
Strikes up a witty conversation
With his movie star smile and education
Using the words that he pre rehearsed
Says all the right things and compliments her
Looking past his rather peculiar behavior
And when politely asked gives up her number
He rings her up the very next day
With a romantic scenic picnic date
Under the shade of a lush green tree
Upon a blanket with wine and cheese
Playing the part of the handsome boyfriend
Gains her full trust and faith in him
Joking in a effort to make her laugh
To put her at ease and follow his plan
Jealous of her ex boyfriends
Knowing their names and full address
And when he drops her off at home
Tracks and follows her every move
Knows all her weekly kept routines
Threatens and blackmails all her friends
Studies everyday mundane errands
Unaware of his decent into madness
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
I wonder if you've noticed,
I'm becoming less appealing,
Our conversations are getting very...
Very, boring...
And I wonder if you've noticed,
That I'm becoming less appealing.
You can tell me,
I didn't meant to approach you,
It was a decision made in a split second,
And it seems like my heart's voice was louder than my brain's then:
I'm being honest,
My chest was about to explode,
My heart was a ticking time bomb
And I could only disarm it by giving it a voice,
Converting its electric impulses into sound waves.
But now,
It's been a while since then,
And,
We're drifting apart...
I haven't told you that I nicknamed you zebra because of that cute black and white shirt you had on...
Because,
I'm scared that would just trigger the slow end of our...
Our?!
I mean,
It will make our friendship awkward.
I told my friends I don't like you,
But apparently you like me -
But, I just have a question,
After getting to know me -
Ummm... Have I lost my charms,
Or are you still googly-eyed over the stupid fifteen year old boy that nearly tripped over his own words as he uttered, "You're very pretty"?
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
You say, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”
but I say surely something
must taste nicer than the burning acid
being forced back up your throat.
Why not hug people instead of
toilet bowls? At least they’ll hug back.
Except Mia is your only friend now.
And her cousin, Ana, of course.
And I understand that you never
wanted to die, but this is a thousand ton truck
hurtling towards the edge of a cliff and
Ana took the wheel a long time ago.
There is no strength in this: in you, in a
fear of calories. Even your bones creak
as your muscles sigh with exhaustion -
for this, is not a war you're winning.
This is a battle with only one contender
and I will not be the one to disarm you.
That's your job and it always has been. I know
you only wanted to be beautiful
like all those stars in the magazines
you saved under a file titled ‘thinspo’
but the only stars you ever saw were in
your eyes from the dizziness
and to tell you the truth, you are not pretty.
For there is nothing “pretty”
about the layer of fuzz your body grew
to protect itself from the big bad wolf
when really, the only growl was coming
from inside your stomach.
Or how your little sister is afraid to touch,
let alone hug you, in fear of snapping you in two.
For there is no glamour in having to
remove clumps of hair out of the plughole
at least six times whilst having a shower,
just to let the water run down.
Or that one time you "accidentally”
took too many laxatives. Messy.
There is nothing admirable about the way
you sat shivering on your bed
at night instead of kissing boys,
or dancing, or eating ice cream.
There is nothing to be marvelled at
in dying.
This, is not a life to be lived.
God, this isn't even a life.
This is being a slave to your own body,
a walking zombie, a ghost stuck
between two sides.
You are not alive.
But it was all still worth it, right?
Slowly killing yourself from the inside out.
A small price to pay for perfection,
a bargain for a broken mirror;
for a half-written book
with 97 blank pages,
a camera
that only captures in black and white,
a clock
with frozen hands.
And most importantly, for a peace of mind
you never received.
No refunds.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
Jealousy is a loaded gun,
And you made each of their names
Bullets in my chamber.
The end of the barrel
Kisses me softly,
Between the eyes,
Where you used to.
And as you twirl them all round in a Russian Roulette
My finger quivers over the trigger.
Sweat makes it impossible to grip
And thinking back makes it
Impossible
To think forward...
What next?
You cocked it,
The gun,
So I'm ready to go.
I think...
Until, you reach out and try to save me.
Your hand touching mine
Losens my grip on the gun,
My finger becomes limp and I come back to life as
Your promises disarm me,
Your reassurance unloads the gun and
The bullets become evanescent in your kiss.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
I.
*“You can only fight the way you practice”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
His lessons started late
As always, and as always
What is thrown is a question
You grip tightly
around your fingers
as one would,
as one always should.
With a branch he beckons:
“Come” he asks,
*“if a stick is struck from this angle,
what would your answer be?”*
Always, the old man taught
With each strike, each parry,
Each disarm and lock,
Each time my knuckles
Would hurt. This way
he makes it sure
that my body
remembers.
This is always
the first step.
My mind might forget.
But the body
Remembers.
II.
*“It is difficult to realize the true Way just through sword-fencing. Know the smallest things and the biggest things, the shallowest things and the deepest things.”
― Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings: Miyamoto Musashi*
With him, everything starts
The vague quality of nonwords
Taught from pain, simplified
Through science:
the fulcrum and the lever.
Each joint, each turn,
a pattern to comprehend,
all things work in context:
*A framework of the undeniable
Fact:*
*the world is separate
In only these two words:*
Taub at Tihaya
The colloquial words for
Face down and face up;
This is a pattern
of the body.
III.
*“If you wish to control others you must first control yourself”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
Tihaya
The lesson starts
When he presses
His thumb forward
to a hand asking for alms
like turning a doorknob
too far to the right.
Taub
when I pull back
four fingers
on a giving hand
too far to what is left.
these are the means
for control.
When I know
How much is necessary
To push or to pull,
To teach or to break.
- 18 October 2017
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
My leg hurts
The jaws of this inhumane trap engulf my lower shin
I have the tool to disarm it and free myself
But I muttle in my adolescent egocentric pain
Caught within monotonous routine and self interest I rot like my peers
I've sunk to a level of self loathing, that I enjoy pulling myself down
I
Am
Disgusting.
I
Need
Help.
I cry for things I can give myself but alas I withhold it to feel sorry for myself
Me and my fellow youth
Equally as useful, equally as useless
Although I am free of the crowd I am still blinded by my adolescence
Purpose
Interest
Intellect
Great-fullness
Peacefulness
Generosity
Love
PURPOSE
all I've know is I am here to be a vessel for knowledge and indoctrination
I am here to have an opinion I voice, but does not matter.
I do not matter.
This function is welded to me
However...
The voice of destiny reasons with me again and I hear:
Seek what's within
Garrot it.
Place yourself into the walls of meaning and the murals upon't
Serve others in selflessness. Share with others in selflessness. Learn from others in selflessness. Teach others in selflessness.
Your a pawn in the samsara. Do your duty within its game.
Gain higher consciousness so you can share the path to it. Become a giver, not a taker.
Interest
Intellect
Great-fullness
Peacefulness
Generosity
Love
Six lessons left, define yourself within them. Or perish within your self indulgent pitiful hole.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 5:13 AM UTC
Kindness is not nice.
‘Nice’ is soft and inoffensive
‘Nice’ is careful and non-assertive
‘Nice’ is easy and effects no change
she’s cotton wool trying to soften the pain
but not stuffed tight, just resting on the surface
ready to be blown away or pressed
under a muddy boot of disinterest
‘Nice’ is a damp whisper
a mouse cowering in the corner
hoping you will blink and miss her
lest she attract your notice
lest she presume too much
and cause a whisker of offence
Kindness is not like that –
Kindness pushes in, quick and nimble
a hero with no mask, unasked
unexpected, dodging the turmoil
leaving nothing unsaid and little undone
in her pursuit of creating a counter-disruption
Kindness defies convention
Kindness carefully aims her weapons of choice
and advances relentless and regardless
of any and all obstacles in her way
Kindness perseveres all the love-long day
Kindness doesn’t delay
Kindness is gleeful for the chance of invasion
ready to disarm with expert compassion
with her regiments of patience
armed to the teeth with gracious
placing tanks of good faith on all fronts
Kindness confronts
Courage is her currency, boldness her language,
trust and hope are her passports to lands long unexplored
happily wearing all-weather clothing
for any and all unexpected storms
Kindness transforms
Kindness weakens all defenses
and challenges all camouflaged pretenses
Kindness pours itself out to fill unhealed wounds
and on shrapnel-seeded battlefields
she - blooms
Kindness is not 'nice'
Kindness isn’t in this for the likes
Kindness bites
She’s a take-on-all-comers, undefeated delight
Kindness never bails from the fight
never fails, never takes flight
Kindness is nothing casual,
nothing incidental
This Kindness is elemental
She is Avengers-Assemble,
End-Game-level
monumental
Kindness is not 'nice'.
Kindness is loving awe-ful.
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC
Blest as the immortal gods is he,
The youth whose eyes may look on thee,
Whose ears thy tongue's sweet melody
May still devour.
Thou smilest too!--sweet smile, whose charm
Has struck my soul with wild alarm,
And, when I see thee, bids disarm
Each vital power.
Speechless I gaze: the flame within
Runs swift o'er all my quivering skin:
My eyeballs swim; with dizzy din
My brain reels round;
And cold drops fall; and tremblings frail
Seize every limb; and grassy pale
I grow; and then--together fail
Both sight and sound.
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What the hell
When I have heaven in my arms?
I see Blake, I see Plath
I see the bike next to the block
Am I good?at your puns?
Spotting these metaphors and sensing
your lust
The Devil himself between these mellowing thighs
Oh, He looked a lot like you Sean.
Undress not your self
But your gown
For me once
Disarm these plausibilities
I know where you're from
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
We look upon each other
Drawing in the attraction
Wondering what’s beyond the skin
Inadequacy is sometimes found
Once we’ve pierced the heart within…
What if what makes us who we are
A total package if you prefer
Gives away our true kind
Decreasing the images’ worth
Creating a change of mind…
A peek inside the soul
Could be all we need to see
Sealing the fate of charm
A face that’s average to the eye
Has the heart to unravel and disarm…
If you look at all the masterpieces artists have created
Whether paint or pen, marble or clay,
Or perhaps the dust from the ground
We see many imperfections
But overall beauty may astound
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Under attack once again
From those who make themselves available to him
By now one would think I'd be use to it
He knows my weakest link
How to distress me
He knows who to send to me and when
Who is vulnerable and who is not
Whoever allows themselves to be used as a pawn
Surely shall get used
No deposit required
While payback awaits
Most are used unknowingly
Driven to say and do as if instructed by an invisible force
Blinded not by the light
But rather by the darkness
However there is a weapon to be used
A weapon that will and can disarm
To master the art of knowing from whence it comes
Then to ignore it
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
streams of salt and H2O leak
down reddened cheeks and condense
in a golden beard. a war-torn nation,
half-a-world-away, crystallizes clear as dayspring
in an insomniac's screaming and fragile psyche
at half-past-three in the morning.
what strength must a seven-year-old posses
to persevere amidst the perversity of cluster bombs?
munitions bought and paid for with the taxes
we fork over to the United States. will her blood one day
stain our hands with crimson? will her mother's?
a girl who just wanted to read, to escape
the tragedy that inundates our surroundings,
to a magical realm of pure imagination.
where we can summon spectral stags
to save us from the misery of humanity
and learn to disarm those who would harm
us with the charm, Expelliarmus!
the bastion where i found the first seeds that grew
into a rebellion opens its doors to you, Bana.
there's a crater where your house used to be,
rubble strewn in Aleppo, Syria. but know that Hogwarts
will always be there to welcome you home.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 4:05 AM UTC
Fading and falling
Why do you seem to not see me anymore?
All I want to do is to be yours .
Time won’t stop to bare us another kiss
And in you is where I find my bliss
Falling and falling
Harder and harder, what will goodbye bring
I am trying to prepare for the sting
But, every time I try to push you away
You give me a little reason to stay
Fading and Fading
Deeper into your charm
What will it take for you to disarm?
And take me
Into your arms and never let me free
For here is where I want to be
Fading and falling
You seem to cause me pain
Though, you never seem to leave my brain
What is there left to do?
When all I want to fight for is you
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Melting madness and shimmering isles
The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles
Let's teach the East to love Western style
We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles
The rest of the world watches their watches
People keep saying we're at hour eleven
We're changing the design on our gold lockets
From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven!
The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics
And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened
They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot
Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened
That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts
They want everyone else in the world to remember
That they did exist on some scale of importance
Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans
Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems
So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens
It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover
You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other
We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!)
They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man
Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps
And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution!
I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions
We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content
We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best
Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan
Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean
Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda.
I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception
So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
When will this suspicion
Go into remission?
Splitting like nuclear fission
Is their miserable mission
So they poke and ****
Claiming I'm a fraud
Thinking they're my god
Which seems kind of odd
Because they know so little
And I know so much
I play them like a fiddle
Then eat them for lunch
For when it comes to raging rhetoric
I prove myself to be the better *****
They turn suspicious
So I become vicious
And treat them like *******
Because all of their wishes
Are of being capable witches
So they can morph me into a frog
Maybe then I'll hope on their log
And live the limited life they want
But they'll always tease and taunt
So my sensitive secrets I'll flaunt
To disarm their negative notions
Yet that's a never ending ocean
We live in a world of suspicion
With a hatred ignition
We live in a world that's a prison
A world that's sad to envision
Where everyone's a guard
And everyone is charred
By the judge
Who throws sludge
At the fragile mirror
To make hatred clearer
We must break the lawyers' locks
And sell their suspicious stocks
For when we fear one another
We don't hear one another
Communication goes
Suspicion grows
That's the flow
While we sit in our vaults
Hoping that this halts
But it never stops
In a world of cops
A world that's continually turning
While suspicion keeps burning
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC
When I'm with other people
Their mere presence reflects my character
Their strength validates me as an individual
Friends sneak away and doubt creeps in
Who am I without my companion justifiers?
Nobody
So I'm going to build an army
And we're going to storm the walls of hatred
They'll throw their bombs
****** ****** ****
Usually more specialized weapons appear as well
All trying to use shame to strip us of our very humanity
We disarm their shame with pride
Not pride in the way one is born or lives
But pride in the face of those who tell us we should feel ashamed
Those hate filled walls will be trampled by our friendship
Once we've infiltrated the pitch black city
We'll seize their holy temple
And find me
Naked, crying, alone
We'll pick me up and dust me off
After all, I have an army to build
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of ****** is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
2.7k
It’s not the type of ugly, like the bruise on your arm.
It’s the type of ugly is meant to disarm.
It’s brutal, and gut wrenching, and it hurts.
It makes you feel as though you’re constantly trying to avert.
It’ll make you feel numb,
until you’re don’t even recognize who you’ve become.
Once you’ve experienced this ugly, it takes over your life,
reminding you constantly of your strife.
Your failures seem to look you in the face,
with every step forward you seem to take.
It’s got you questioning if you’re taking two steps forward, or back,
it’s got your calm, unaffected, beautiful façade about to crack.
Once you’ve experienced this type of ugly, it’s hard to believe you deserve the beauty
and you start to come off as snooty.
Once you’ve experienced this type of ugly, you’ll think there’s no going back,
that the past will never just be in the past,
but in your future too
stealing your happiness, ruining the true you.
Once you’ve experienced it, everything takes a backseat
even when you want something so bad you can hardly speak.
Once you’ve experienced it, and let yourself suffer,
you have to decide if a second time around is worth it, knowing it’ll be tougher.
You have to see that somehow, when you accept it,
the good times make the bad memories fleeting, even though it’s hard to admit.
This type of ugly will ruin you, but only if you continue to let it.
So fight, because if you’ve experienced this ugly, you’ve already taken the worst hit.
Let yourself believe,
there’s more than just an ugly side, don’t continue to misconceive.
When push comes to shove,
you have to fight to see past the ugly side of love.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
*She's there, suddenly noticed, woman from the dream
Above the dance floor, red hair fire falling down around a moonlight face
All others blur in the sea of bodies and burn on the sidelines of tunnel vision as the freckles of stars
Cerulean eyes vacuum the dark within a frame that illuminates and
I'm struck, suddenly pulling a name from ether*
Julia,
I whisper
Gunshot
rings, three drinks in
reach to the rib to feel dress wear for which metal was traded
Gunshot
bartender dead
one stray bullet punctured his head burst through the back and then popped
a fifth of Jameson.
Kick
Punch
Elbow
Motion slicing and justified
Neck
Snap
Disarm
Violent crash when pacified
Autonomy engage,
Bang, bang
Enrage
She
A
Knife
Gunshot
nine times in row
nine suited men dropped still in tow, two more take employees' door
Gunshot
following fast
upstair sprint with empty clip, K.O. with strong arm hefty throw
She leaves safe with escort
Up one more flight to the rooftop
This isn't the first time Julia's run away
This is the first time she's been chased by wanting legs
Who otherwise stood still on the platform watching a present face
Depart when maybe just maybe there was a chance in three words, sure
In three words
Violent crash in memory
Autonomy engage,
Retrace the pain
and follow
dream
A
l
i
g
h
t
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
A stubborn heart is deadly. It has the ability to short circuit the brain, exhaust all the sanity in you, crush your spirits, exhume every bit of sanity from the deepest recesses of your body. It can wipe out dreams of fairy tale endings, change your views on life and love --- turning you into this most cynical person alive. You tend to expect more...to your utmost disappointment in the end.Nevertheless, it brings about an exhilarating kind of joy that makes your being come alive. It brings that ultimate enjoyment of loving without hesitating to give your all. Bottomline, it feels good. It feels **** good.Oh if only the latter would happen more often --- forever if possible. Wishful thinking, yes. In the meantime, I'll just nurse this stubborn heart. Might be all it takes to disarm that stubborn man in his own makeshift loveless world. - Feb 25, 2010...for a dear friend
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 5:24 PM UTC
There are crickets in my room
Somewhere not reached by my broom
They keep chirping
To alert me
Of what hurts me
They’ve made a mess
In my nest
But I can’t find it
To confine it
Like I’m blinded
Mistakes were made
Hurting my name
Bringing me shame
So I live in a grave
Where crickets lay
They can’t be slain
So their noise remains
The crickets are beckoning
Bringing my reckoning
With a sound that’s threatening
Because it’s so deafening
The crickets infest my home
So I’m never really alone
They live in my basement and attic
Chirping until I’ve finally had it
I jump out my window like a rabbit
To avoid their noise so emphatic
But out here the crickets sing prouder
With a chorus that’s even louder
The crickets buzz like an alarm
Reminding me of my harm
They’ll sing for me to disarm
Until I change or wither
So I’m a plagued sinner
Who’ll never be a winner
Wrestling with damage inner
I eluded their noise
So nukes were deployed
And my nation destroyed
By a sound that annoyed
Me until I couldn’t avoid
Not being conscience devoid
I ask for forgiveness
All I hear are crickets
And cops giving tickets
In this concrete thicket
That I need to picket
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 9:55 PM UTC
The canvas on our walls,
help me remember you,
our story sinking into mesh
ink captives speak in hues
Can I shelter your barricaded soul?
or disarm you with my words?
following the path we’re making,
and paint, our greying skies with birds.
Or break down your paper barriers,
fading words in and out,
ill follow your heart anywhere
of that there is no doubt.
So colour me in with our truth,
and walk me through life’s gate
because this is our story my dear,
and our truth is our fate.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
she writes on her arm
as a physical method to disarm
she believes this way she can fix the problem
she doesn't think she is awesome
"the words will sink deeper" she tells herself
she's putting the true conflict on a shelf
the words she wrote are just material
she doesn't know her true issue is spiritual
she needs to look deep inside
stop letting her demons hide
they will destroy her slowly
she won't know where her mind is going
suffering on the inside is the worst
one day soon, she is going to burst
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC