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Nikki Danilov Mar 2019
who gave you the right to give me life when I never asked for it??
and who gave you the right to cry when I stopped wanting it...
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Pain brings out the best in people
And somewhere in between
In the middle of good and evil
Is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
She radiates on golden airwaves
Among the valleys of time
And halfway down heaven's stairway
She blows your doubtful mind

There's dishonesty in honest men
Somewhere beyond the grave
And when they get lost in it
There's no woman they can save
If falling for you is wrong
Then I don't want to be right
Sing with me, uncertainty
And stay with me tonight
Melissa S Nov 2014
She has her own star
Down on the boulevard
Where they all line up to see her
Welcome to her life
Welcome to her world
Her life did not go as planned
She thought the whole world was in her hands
She craves intimacy in the worst way
But has to settle for whatever the fellows are paying for that day
She parades around on her concrete stars perfumed and sprayed
Hopeful that someone will find her desirable rather than doubtful
Wears tons of makeup
Smokes two packs a day
She thinks the sooner she leaves this world the better
She had a plan she had a path
Before that monster stole her soul and caused her wrath
Now alcohol and drugs help numb her pain
Nothing but a ghost girl remains
The other girl shed herself just a pile of skin left on the floor
This new person is all anyone will see anymore
She does have a good heart
but rarely uses it
too many people have let her down
No one ever tries to see the person that she is
they never stop to hear her story
They say it's hard work to look that easy
Some may even call her ******
But not me
Mitch Prax Oct 2019
The problem isn't you,
in fact, there's nothing
wrong with you.
Stop blaming yourself
for things that others did
or things you could not control.
Do not question your worth
by the way others treat you
or making comparisons.
Do not second guess yourself
just because others choose to leave
or because they choose to lie.
You are doing well,
do not doubt yourself.
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
We are a puzzle with missing parts
That is why we make art
It is a healing start

We are all dream chasers
Until pencil meets eraser
Until boat meets glacier
Reality we must face her
When we sacrifice imagination
For societal integration
We search for placation
In lonely play stations
And through vacation
We experience migration
When the results are doubtful
And the response a drought mold
Because people are skeptical
Until there's a shiny scepter sold
Then you're put on a pedestal
And have your pecker pulled
By various industry tools
Loading you like a mule
With expensive jewels

Art must be the only motive
Not climbing any totem
Because once you're dead
Your art can still be read
Audiences may still be fed
But there's a frivolous influence
So you must be vigilant and prudent
To cut that from your life
So art may be your wife
That works to end strife
Yet that kind of help
You can't put on a shelf

I strive to make my art timeless
Though my pockets are dimeless
We live in a world of depression
That carries the risk of regression
My art could help push past it
Now that would be classic
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
Take my hand
hold on through the quicksand
of my expressed agony
for I’m trying to bring us past the vanity
and the demonic hailings I paint
can as swiftly change to angels sailing past the hate
my words can take you from a pearless white night
with only the moon in sight
then twist that light back to
the sun’s beaming might
surround you in a blizzard
with imagery so vivid
it cuts through the snow
like a rock in a rivers flow
bring you from the crumbles of earthly ruins
to the humble pearly white gates of heavenly viewings
invoke you in anger & apathy
a firery rage bellowing
until you hear a fazed echoeing
pulling you from the depths of mind
to the paradise I envisioned for
corrupt you with illness of doubtful hate
then present a panacea of a
hopeful fate

I know I’m just a man,
but take my hand
and I’ll show to your there’s more to us than a monotonous plan
Alike to Twin Minds with Hands and Feet possess
Perform their own Stage and make a Good Score
With such Lyrics does their Rhythm address
Defined in the Air; As once did before
Which, in some Ardent but Doubtful Degree
Would deny the Advice handed down in Print
Since they are a Pair submitted to Belief
That to answer those Charges was far too Mint
Much for their Lifted Chins to Cower in Shame
Knowing the Goals they defer would spell their End
But why would they Work so much for a Name
When in Wrinkles are their Numbered Values spent?
There is Reason why the Pool is cleaned Within
To drain-in the Lust; To blue-out the Sin.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
logan wade Apr 2019
the chalice itself had called upon me,
and i brought the poison
which i had poured for myself,
hoping for relief and understanding -
to my lips. they ached
with unrequited apologies
and a curse of madness,
there since my first dawn,
and dusk.

if only i hadn’t decided
to conjure up my doubtful spirit,
and its counterparts -
riddled with doubt and arrogance,
and silent agony -
perhaps i wouldn’t be me anymore.

at first, the venom pleased my taste buds,
fulfilling my curiosity for those thoughts
i’d hidden.
some sweetness.
some reluctance,
but inevitable interest.

if only i’d switched my mind off-
and felt truly present and unfazed-
when infusing the mixture with
all sorts of tempting parts:
dark berries and such…
perhaps if i hadn’t thought so much,
i’d taste the poison as it is.
damaging and threatening
and darkening
as i accommodated my vision
towards it…
but i’d built a strong idea within myself.
fell in love with an idea of the poison,
swam in it like nothing mattered.
formulated it, dishonest with myself
and everyone else.
dissociated myself from everything i once knew,
just for a taste.

i leapt away from my own values
towards the ocean, whose waves
understood my undulating self-image.

i write now, in critical condition,
having realised: my solutions
are all the more powerful,
when i pour the problem myself
Nivine Nahli Mar 2019
I'm dubious,

I will never know what life brings for me.
Some days, I believe in my abilities and
Moments later, my other mind will interrogate me.
Who am I and what do I bring by existing?

I will never know since I'm so doubtful.
Doubtful of all the beautiful things in life.
Especially love, since I don't exist
To love anymore.  

If we're not here to love, what are we here for?
If we can barley live, why are we living after all.
Maybe one day I'll find my path,
But for now, I'll continue to be in a quandary.

changing, shifting, wondering.
I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated

This poem is about how unattached I am from myself. I hope it makes sense
Well then I've lost it again.
It's all gone,
nothings left to find.
There are no reasons
for time,
to unwind,
to be blind
to anything you find
that's helpful.
you see everything in me.
From my malice
to my chi.
You feel it quick
and it resonates your soul.
Like the sound you get,
when sliding wet flesh
on a glass of water.
Your energy fluxuates,
in such wavelengths,
that my heart must beat along.
To a song of your love.
Of which
i have never felt
anything above.
You can tell,
whether I'm
or quaking,
Your what I want most
but whats hardest to keep.
You're in reach of the stars
but won't let yourself see.
I've been waiting for you,
and I'll wait for eternity.
ryn Aug 2014
Hold my hand
And lead me through
Traverse this land
Together we two.

Over unknown terrains
Under weeping skies
Through unforgiving plains
Through pain and lies.

Between grieving mountains
And screaming valleys
Feeding fevered delusions
Fraught with delays and tarries.

Beyond the hills and knolls
Hopeful of salvation
Surviving pits and falls
Not knowing the destination.

My hand still in yours
An arduous odyssey
Must stay the course
Must complete this journey.

Bright skies up ahead
Or so they promise
Soon shall pass they said
Soon will come release.

Still in this; still walking
Not soon expecting the end
Still in this; still trudging
Round this obscured treacherous bend.

Doubtful mad endeavour
I dragged you with me
When this finally is over
We'll look back and see.

Glad that we were together
Glad that together we came
Never cease from being near
Keep holding my hand, just the same.
Classy J Feb 2019
Trying to figure out why a ***** tried to stunt on me.
While my homie fronts on me.
Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly!
Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly.
Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly?
**** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses.
My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless.
Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches.
While society bides their time by tying nooses.
Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses.
So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches.
But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises.
Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses.
Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances.
Some people can be such nuisances.
Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses.
Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting.
Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting.
Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening?
However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle.
Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people.
Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle.
Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible?
Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols.
With their heads so far up their own ***. That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
Little Bit Mar 2017
my legs are closed now
so it's all through to you

you say:
what a night
you're fantastic
that was fun
while it lasted

I say:
oh yeah
go on now
get gone

but despite my efforts
to deny it
to hide it

my young heart
is ripped open,
in two
it's through

wondering your answers
to the questions
left behind
in my mind

what's your middle name?
where do you take proper girls
on a first date?
am i just a flake,
full of hate?

do you have a favorite
cursive letter?
if you loved someone,
when would you tell her?

how will you make a living?
(certainly not by drinking)

does your mother know you're
a lying lush?
do you know that you're
a lousy ****?

will you remember me?
i hope to forget you soon
although it's doubtful
but i have to
to get my soul full

wondering the answers
until I indulge once more
and my heart is torn
into 4, then 8
until it disintegrates

I say:
go on
get gone
don't make
me late
written 1/31/17
city of flips Sep 2019
your children not to do what I have done

long has this phrase from that old song,
to wit, to which,
we all knew it complete,
that phrase

and this one too,

teach them well their father’s hell will slowly go by

any parent,
knows instantly their secret experiences
validating these pregnant phrases to
combination and definition

our looking face down
on the children unafraid,
our looking back
at the mistakes we ourselves made,
that no one could have warned us of in advance

can we warn them well,
dare we tell,
make our lore their history,
make them
too careful and too afraid
not to repeat our mistakes,
but be not fearful to
make their own?


I am a young woman, and pappy says all parents have eyes in the back of their heads, and it still don’t help much
once privileged Oct 2014
The sun has risen.
Another night past.
Staring at this blank box
Wondering what to write
Doubtful as I am you will find this,
It needs to be right.
The truth seems to lack in taste.
A story seems ill in good faith.
My poems too blunt,
My words too vague.
Years spent in search of words.
Yet I've found none worthy.
I'm a victim of time.  
It just never stops
I think I'll find the words,
If you're patient you'll see.
Maybe by our next life,
I'll be a master of words.
Words spoken over again.  
I'll be more prepared.
For that I'm sure.  
I hope some time you'll know,
Just how far you pushed me to grow.
You were important to me.
And forever you'll be.
On my death bed,
There will be thanks to you.  
And if I may pass before you,
Maybe I'll have had the time to find the words.
Surely in my will.
If not then the next time we meet.
Candis Soul Oct 2018
I don’t think I will ever have the courage to tell you how I feel. I am just going to write it to myself right here. Last I gave my heart to someone it fell through, I was so sure of it I bet my life. I put it to the test and found out just how bad were for each other. Then another and another. Time is hasty and I feel my time nearing. I am not sure what is going through your mind and I am not going to pretend to know. I can only guess. The events that have been happening have lead me to feel this way. I believe in my heart there is something in your heart for me. I am your friend day maybe more. I don’t know if you want this for a brief moment or for a while. I cannot do a brief moment with you. I think that would destroy me. I have not felt this way about a person in a long time. Maybe I am babbling maybe I am imagining all of this. I feel like this has been going on for a while. Here and there. Please tell me what you are thinking....feeling?? Help me understand so I can understand these feelings or give them up. I don’t want to say I love you but I do I feel the words pressing against my lips as I suppress them from coming out. I don’t want to freak you out but I truly do love you. I am having a hard time admitting this to myself because I have been heartbroken a couple times which has made me doubtful and jaded. When I am with you those feelings disappear and all I feel is warmth and real love. Or is it my imagination. So many feelings all over the place. I feel like I am a chaotic mess because I am entranced and spelled by you. I know of the current situation and it is killing me. I stayed away so long but I can no longer do it. Breath me in or breath me out. Let me in or let me go. I wish to always be your friend if anything but I don’t ever think I can stop loving you
In love with the impossible...praying there is a possible solution.
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
The cruelty of loves sting penetrating the heart,
deep and doubtful; longing to be whole both in love and in life.

You’re the gin in my tonic,
The taste in my mouth,
The fire in my belly,
The north in my south.

The wind in my sails,
The silk in my thread,
The tear in my eye,
The sheets on my bed.

You’re the sun in my day,
The days of the week,
The D in desire,
The tongue in my cheek.

The space on my page,
The gold in my dust,
Beautiful Sara,
The love in my lust…

And together we would scheme and we'd, walk and we'd play.
We'd talk and we'd pack all life's troubles away.
Then we would gaze at the stars and you'd say.
I love the bones of you love.
I love the bones of you love.

Song link:
And together we’d scheme and we’d walk and we’d play,
We’d talk and we’d pack all life’s troubles away,
And then we would gaze at the stars and you’d say,
I love the bones of you love.
My inner state is awful
i bleed  from my soul  
I' m doubtful and  it goes on
sure it  bothers  
i am in that nothingless
which has no name
a state of brain torture
who knows when it ends
see people dying  daily
injustice as it were a norm  
that is the cause of my troubles
that's an absurd world
while i'm incapable to react
against that state of events
makes my life awful to death    
that's an absurdity to live
in such an awful  world
Uncrowned King Jul 2018
She's not made for this world
She deserves nothing but love
But she's already full of it—
She's gold-flowing!
Too soft to be touched,
Too fragile to be held,
And too transparent to be seen.
Her self-love is doubtful
Though she's overflowing with love,
She care too much
For the wrong people
Only if she could see
What she's made of
Only if I could make her see
What her worth is
She could devour her remorse and escape,
Runaway and save herself from this unworthy world
Even if it means not being with me
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