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"earing" poems
How dare you feed your shadow and bind your rulebook with the cells of my brain, the tissue of my heart and the calories of my existence. How dare you tear down my home. How dare you throw away the cushions of my stomach, tear down the curtains of my hair, destroy the pillars of my legs. Until all that was left was the cold brick. an empty house. A hollow heart, a bedridden passion for life. You ate my muted screams and my broken dreams. Slower, no slower, chew slower. Don’t eat too quick. Weigh that, no! Weigh it again, the scales could be wrong so round it up, log it, 200 left for dinner. Please just let me eat, please give me peace. Dog-earing her rulebook and breaking its osteoporotic spine. Feeding my life, furnishing my home.
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Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 12:08 PM UTC
Dear Anorexia
~~¤~~ S-weetest ever, sweetest heart W-earing a smile, I love so much E-veryday, everynight E-very moment of my life T-hankful I am for your gift H-eart of mine wants to receive E-very drop of your rain A-sk me now if there is pain R-ead my eyes, my lips, my deeds T-rue love of mine, you're all I need ~~¤~~
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Sweetheart
houses so close you can’t have sunlight without voyeurism but how can one resist this air of night’s invigoration her thick ankles can be seen through the lifted shade next to the beer and rumpled magazines on her coffee table it is 7:30, the kids are in bed, the husband, who knows? it’s pull-tab night at the corner bar, he likes that young girl who sells them flicker, it feels good to sit down how ironic that my long awaited silence feels so lonely flicker, maybe if i bought that he would look at me again flicker, do i even care anymore? *** is more work than it’s worth sometimes flicker, Jacque and Lisa keep me company, maybe i DO want the deluxe faux ruby necklace and earing set flicker, i wanted to be a ballerina when i was little my god this house has awfully low ceilings flicker, all this thinking is making me tired
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
Window Shopping Vignette
before I knew he had. His flight trailed off into a Utah sunrise. He left behind a little strand of thought, and, in a cramped, amber room that saw long talks of topics that soon thinned grey, a set of dog-eared books has been put down. Books that brought nearer to my thought his own, while somewhere Interstate-5 grates ‘cross the ground. I sleep there still, although I left for good. That house to this day asks me where he was. Their smiles, the little comfort that they could give, were emptier than their words. Often I feel the vague pulse of their ragged stares – torn, threadbare they unravel in the air to mask their faces: that inner decree which shades the truth. Where and how’d they ever grow wrong? He must have, as the plane touched the runway, felt the dawn’s shudder fracture his young bones, his thoughts turning to those dog-earing days. The seemingly endless months full of groans, as they should have been, being spent alone. And that set of books, at least it would seem, ignited the wick on which our passions gleam – slate-grey regards. These six years past since they took him away held minutes like a needle in plied dust. There’s something in the spring that brings decay here. The outward beauty of the world just clouds the mind’s loss within the spinning gust that all the blooming flowers usher in. Then the rain comes – in spitters and spats it spins the spire. When gone the white-wick’s still on fire. As the 5’s scratch cracks up the drying earth, I recall Nietzsche, Guevara, Burgess. Famed men who’d not anticipated births inside my brother and I like cypress trees, evergreen and coniferous we drop seeds year-round. The setting Utah sun, barely audible, gasps in the copse. He’s with me now. What’s done is done.
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
My brother left
before I knew he had. His flight trailed off into a Utah sunrise. He left behind a little strand of thought, and, in a cramped, amber room that saw long talks of topics that soon thinned grey, a set of dog-eared books has been put down. Books that brought nearer to my thought his own, while somewhere Interstate-5 grates ‘cross the ground. I sleep there still, although I left for good. That house to this day asks me where he was. Their smiles, the little comfort that they could give, were emptier than their words. Often I feel the vague pulse of their ragged stares – torn, threadbare they unravel in the air to mask their faces: that inner decree which shades the truth. Where and how’d they ever grow wrong? He must have, as the plane touched the runway, felt the dawn’s shudder fracture his young bones, his thoughts turning to those dog-earing days. The seemingly endless months full of groans, as they should have been, being spent alone. And that set of books, at least it would seem, ignited the wick on which our passions gleam – slate-grey regards. These six years past since they took him away held minutes like a needle in plied dust. There’s something in the spring that brings decay here. The outward beauty of the world just clouds the mind’s loss within the spinning gust that all the blooming flowers usher in. Then the rain comes – in spitters and spats it spins the spire. When gone the white-wick’s still on fire. As the 5’s scratch cracks up the drying earth, I recall Nietzsche, Guevara, Burgess. Famed men who’d not anticipated births inside my brother and I like cypress trees, evergreen and coniferous we drop seeds year-round. The setting Utah sun, barely audible, gasps in the copse. He’s with me now. What’s done is done.
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41
Inspired by Judy Blume, inside Jokes with Liz and the poetry of Alissa Grams (https://alissagrams.wordpress.com/2017/03/06/an-open-letter-to-god-from-an-eighteen-year-old-girl/) ~ God, it's me-- jade. I must admit, I've never read Judy Blume or the Bible, for that matter (I could never make it past Genesis). I am not well-versed when it comes to scripture-- I am fluent in tragedy and tragedy alone; then again, is there really any difference between scripture and tragedy? I was never one to pay attention in church, unless the hymns were of a minor key, the sermons imbued with woe and melancholia. Coincidentally, as I write this, it has only just occurred to me that Lot's Wife was never given a name of her own-- it was destroyed with ***** forgotten amongst the flames and the ash. God, you were wrong to punish her the way you did. Have you never felt the sting of salt against an open wound? Have you never watched as all the familiar intimacies you once knew dissolved to cinder? (I know you have). Do you not see that, if home is where the heart is, then the heart must surely perish with it? God, has anyone ever broken your heart? (I think you know heartbreak as well as I do; it is the very matter of our existence). So I guess my real question is why? (and, no, this time, it is not rhetorical). Truly, I'd like to know why you would ever think to hurt your people the same way the archangel hurt you. You say I sin against you, but did you not create me in your image? (Like father, like daughter, I suppose). god, I do not think I believe in you. At least, I do not believe in you like I believe in other things. I do not believe in you the way I believe in the beauty of Van Gogh's sunflowers (his starry nights, too); or in dog-earing the pages of my favourite books. I do not believe in you the way I believe in magic; or in the integrity of polaroids photographs and listening to vinyl. I do not believe in you the way I believed in my love during the final moments before his betrayal; or in the lingering sensation of my past lives-- Ophelia. Mary Queen of Scots. Frida Kahlo. Sylvia Plath-- and now, dare I feel it, dare I say it-- Lot's Wife. (With her, I shall share a name). I do not believe you are my saviour because I do not believe in you the way I believe in Poetry. god, it's me-- Jade; this poem is my hallelujah, but it does not belong to you (not anymore).
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Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:56 PM UTC
Hallelujah (It Is Mine To Keep)
Inspired by Judy Blume, inside Jokes with Liz and the poetry of Alissa Grams (https://alissagrams.wordpress.com/2017/03/06/an-open-letter-to-god-from-an-eighteen-year-old-girl/) ~ God, it's me-- jade. I must admit, I've never read Judy Blume or the Bible, for that matter (I could never make it past Genesis). I am not well-versed when it comes to scripture-- I am fluent in tragedy and tragedy alone; then again, is there really any difference between scripture and tragedy? I was never one to pay attention in church, unless the hymns were of a minor key, the sermons imbued with woe and melancholia. Coincidentally, as I write this, it has only just occurred to me that Lot's Wife was never given a name of her own-- it was destroyed with ***** forgotten amongst the flames and the ash. God, you were wrong to punish her the way you did. Have you never felt the sting of salt against an open wound? Have you never watched as all the familiar intimacies you once knew dissolved to cinder? (I know you have). Do you not see that, if home is where the heart is, then the heart must surely perish with it? God, has anyone ever broken your heart? (I think you know heartbreak as well as I do; it is the very matter of our existence). So I guess my real question is why? (and, no, this time, it is not rhetorical). Truly, I'd like to know why you would ever think to hurt your people the same way the archangel hurt you. You say I sin against you, but did you not create me in your image? (Like father, like daughter, I suppose). god, I do not think I believe in you. At least, I do not believe in you like I believe in other things. I do not believe in you the way I believe in the beauty of Van Gogh's sunflowers (his starry nights, too); or in dog-earing the pages of my favourite books. I do not believe in you the way I believe in magic; or in the integrity of polaroids photographs and listening to vinyl. I do not believe in you the way I believed in my love during the final moments before his betrayal; or in the lingering sensation of my past lives-- Ophelia. Mary Queen of Scots. Frida Kahlo. Sylvia Plath-- and now, dare I feel it, dare I say it-- Lot's Wife. (With her, I shall share a name). I do not believe you are my saviour because I do not believe in you the way I believe in Poetry. god, it's me-- Jade; this poem is my hallelujah, but it does not belong to you (not anymore).
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121
Without you here, I've been able to name stars after myself And ***** my fingers on roses that I've planted in my own garden I've read and written poetry because I have identified myself with confidence and happiness And the throbbing constant ache is at a dull hum I'm foliated sketches and the dog-earing of my favorite pages. I am the prayer I say at night before bed and the gratitude I feel in the morning And without you here, I am still all of those and so much more Without you here I am so much more
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 5:01 AM UTC
it's 2 am and I'm okay
Air making leaves dance Do makes my earing ****** Birds hopping and popping on woods Always ready to mingle Down goes a labour To steal every grain Little lilliputs adorned as ants Try to fill their banks before rain Chubby caterpillar all set to fly Effervescent butterflies auditing all flowers A flower having opened their umbrella Seeks out for their sun lover This warm sunshine takes away my pain Fulfils my body and enriches heart Large white bubbles aimlessly float And draw themselves up in vivacious art A home so good Is all I want Where love is sown In every being and plant
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Apr 4, 2022
Apr 4, 2022 at 5:31 AM UTC
HOME
Flandres, the flag of agony in thee I raise The bravest scapes thy land survails In me seek the darkest and the mad man The sad crab cracks its nest Against a backdoor saloon chest My avenue stew mind philanthropy Resolutions crust signs in my sight And by my side Rosemary glinks and blides Preparing my bedroom earing for The day of the land lord sore And than again the boots are crooked The spirit is fulled and dream ain’t no avenue Scooped you will feel and your brain got to be in a grill While your smile resents some breakfast lamb When the door doesn´t call you hence Your feet ain’t gonna lick the garden  fence Standing there the man and his black cloak A shield spelling what spells seen to sell Glasses clink telling whatever you ain’t bring To the ceremony that makes you feel lonely Chain your pony slowly for it’s holy Now hear the voice in a big bang noise Shooting swords like darts of joke Seeking and begging thrilling candies Whispering the grace, listen Sam, the grey taste It’s your blamed race and it's you the same.
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Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 4:42 PM UTC
The city of holly spirits or Redemption gloom makes the saddest rooms
1. Stop looking for constellations in people who don’t even have a star in them 2. Just because your veins Just because your head Just because your lungs Feel like they’re about to explode They aren’t 3. Loneliness is normal so if it at anytime it pierces your skin Buy an earing 4. Your sanity is not determined by all the times You screamed in your mind and no one listened 5. Putting your heart in the hands of people Who only crush it isn’t brave It’s foolish 6. Stop acting like a spoiled brat Clean up the mess you made and apologize no matter what its always your fault 7. He isn’t an ocean You can’t drown But neither can you swim Stay away from him 8. Sunsets and rainbows Weren’t created so you Could enjoy them But look at them Like they were 9. The walls you built Around your kingdom Will one day be knocked down Sometimes it’s okay to surrender 10. Even though Most people don’t have the answer It’s okay to keep questioning 11. Your insecurities will eat you from the inside out be sure to order fries with that 12. No one is better or worse than you We are all skin And bone And flesh One day all of us Will have to give back The stardust we took Don’t forget everything will end So will you (k.s)
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
12 things I would tell my younger self
It seems that no matter what I do, Nobody seems to see me through. And yet I am still so far, Far away from what I am trying to reach. Fearing that I would lose everything, Existing in my own eyes as not being worthy enough. Can you not see that I hurt? Too late for your sympathy... I thought I had grown weak. Over and over I couldn't see, Never realizing what happened to me. I am a stronger person now! Never give up! Always do it your way. Forget what they think, For they were only try to bring you down! Everything that you worked for, Came from your diligence and determination. Time will tell you once said, It's finally time to shine! Only you can make a difference. Never look back at the past.... It's history now <3 Thank you for reading my 2 sided story. Inaffection - A word I made up. The definition of inaffection is the opposite of affection. Definition: A feeling of disliking or hatred. Synonyms: aversion, hate, loathing, abhorrence, pet hate, bete noir, displeasure, disinclination, distaste, disgust, repugnance, antipathy, animosity
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Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
Inaffection - Hurt
Piano playing in the background. The same earing tune. It's gray. Too gray. Might rain. Stomach starts to grumble. I don't know why. I'm thinking about us on that bed. Just sitting. I kiss your cheek. My pants are so loose. They have rips on them. On purpose. My shirt is so tight, I like it. TEST TAKER! They scream. My basketball sits out on the front porch. Wet. Dewy in the grass I feel you watching me sometimes, I wonder if you think of me.
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Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
The Smell of Chilis.
August 15, 2013 Loneliness is a heavy burden. Like an elaborate hoop earring; weighed down with to many beads; attached to my heart. It pulls me down. Stretches me as far as I can go. Always there, my most faithful companion, insistent. Shadowing my every step. I crave touch. Love. Something other then this solitude I have been drowning in. A wet cloth gagging me. Suffocating me. Everyone seems more beautiful. Yet more distant. Every touch, a little sweeter. More welcome. I see the potential everyone has as they touch my life. I watch it as it builds, and rises, and breaks like a wave on the emptiest of beaches. I can feel their arms around me. Their lips on mine for the briefest of thoughts as our eyes connect. These fleeting day dreams serve only to again remind me of the hoop earring piercing my heart. They vividly highlight it. As if it were a splinter in my hand that I could remove. Except, only with the help of another, could I manage to rid myself of it and its persistent, prodding pain.
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
The Hoop Earing
My big sisters made every mistake in the book A big book I know because it was like a manuel that I received at birth Slid under our doorways They gave out copies They reprinted chapters They drew out maps They sketched out the details We flipped through the pages Turning each lesson ******* earing the good ones Like the time my sisters got so mad they kicked in the door Or the time my sister tried a creaky houses old pipes Leaning over "It won't flush" Swoosh a wave of water Or the lesson about heartbreak Reminding my brother Joel and I to look with our eyes closed But hearts open Because they said that's how you know the difference And don't settle down to quickly They whispered between hallways and bed sheets Because marriage is forever And people aren't gaurenteed My sisters authored pages and pages Roads leading to roads to new roads And the book grew older The book came out! This time celebrating parenting Remember to lock the front door Because that toddler with the wild red hair will try to Houdini escape everytime Or sometimes softer Remember that this life is yours And you are steered by your choices Said the sister with the bright blue Eyes And midnight colored hair And she said sometimes You will have to trade in your ballet slippers For bare feet Just so you can truly have your feet on the ground And listen said the other Sometimes resolving and letting go Is easier than holding onto tightly As she shows us her bruises. And be yourself Lael And don't try to hard Joel Because the boy with broken heart can't be fixed And the girls with the wild sides can't be tamed And make sure you both stand tall But not looking down Look straight ahead at the horizon Because we've already done it like that And the sun will always guide you back to blue skies. And I if it doesn't they said We sure as hell will.
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Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Hermana
My big sisters made every mistake in the book A big book I know because it was like a manuel that I received at birth Slid under our doorways They gave out copies They reprinted chapters They drew out maps They sketched out the details We flipped through the pages Turning each lesson ******* earing the good ones Like the time my sisters got so mad they kicked in the door Or the time my sister tried a creaky houses old pipes Leaning over "It won't flush" Swoosh a wave of water Or the lesson about heartbreak Reminding my brother Joel and I to look with our eyes closed But hearts open Because they said that's how you know the difference And don't settle down to quickly They whispered between hallways and bed sheets Because marriage is forever And people aren't gaurenteed My sisters authored pages and pages Roads leading to roads to new roads And the book grew older The book came out! This time celebrating parenting Remember to lock the front door Because that toddler with the wild red hair will try to Houdini escape everytime Or sometimes softer Remember that this life is yours And you are steered by your choices Said the sister with the bright blue Eyes And midnight colored hair And she said sometimes You will have to trade in your ballet slippers For bare feet Just so you can truly have your feet on the ground And listen said the other Sometimes resolving and letting go Is easier than holding onto tightly As she shows us her bruises. And be yourself Lael And don't try to hard Joel Because the boy with broken heart can't be fixed And the girls with the wild sides can't be tamed And make sure you both stand tall But not looking down Look straight ahead at the horizon Because we've already done it like that And the sun will always guide you back to blue skies. And I if it doesn't they said We sure as hell will.
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60
F earing what's on the other side           E veryone turns around and takes the longer route E ven those who we see as hero's           L ying is all they do and what we hear I nventing new ways to go on with life N umbing the pain is what we try to       do   G oing too far just because of what we fear
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Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
Feeling
Did you pen this in a depleted moment Indiscriminate to your heart waning desire. Everything I did was for you, our life was To be a unity of majestic significance. Over again did I think about those syllables Greeting my mind in a confused state. Either I was yours or no one else's, The tears that fell, like fake snow meaningless Hearing you understand what we had to do Every occasion we shared culminated in this Real declaration of love, two shots and our hearts stopped.
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
Our Hearts Were Full Of Lead
Steam rises from the coffee mug Sunshine peaks over the mountains Smoke begins to fill up my lungs I exhale what will never last. Bearing marks of heartache he comes Branded by the thought of concern Barb-wire scuffed belts meet our hips I release all that's left of hope. Fields of yellow surround the road Flowers that once bloomed in the rain Faith so young in red lips so warm I leave your still blue eyes waiting. Combing fingers through your course hair Caressing toes in sheets heavy Cold noses on one another I don't want to fall in love again. -z0
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
cowboy's cry
Ominous tides control my mind Killing me on the inside Ageless hurt boiling in the pit of my soul Yearning to be set free from the eternal prison I have made in my head Ineffectually think of my impending doom Fearing the person that I am slowly melting into Equally hating myself for my sinful crimes Eloquent words flowing off my hateful tongue Leaving behind the once pure little girl inside Deranged voices talking to me Expecting me to comply After death and before lie Depression is my only truth Nightfall arriving, perishing my once boisterous being Opening the demon in my soul Who will not leave me alone
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
OKAY I FEEL DEAD NOW
She is nobody's angel She doesn't have a prince. She has a beautiful family to love ever since. Her dreams are not as of pinky girls.. She never liked her hair open with curls.. She doesn't paint her nail her lips never touched those coloured sticks.. She never pouts on selfie clicks... The beauty is hidden in her mischievous smile. . That can hold any body's feet for a while.. She makes the same plait everyday.. Like she has taught her her hair how to stay... She doesn't have time to mingle her finger with her hair... She doesn't think that she needs any body to take care.. She loves black not pink.. by this she conveys the message I think.. She never tried to charm anyone. She is a daughter playing role of a son I never found her wearing.. Neither nosepin nor earing.. She is different from others people say.. She doesn't care even becz she knows the way She made her a war hawk not a dove.. That is y she is not ready to love.. Her mother is also concerned about her.. But she proves people wrong who doubt her.. She has a dream to live and die for.. Everything she has but still Striving for more. She is adventurous an explorer always ready to grow.. She is a learner this is what I know.... She is a queen of every trait.. She has written her own fate.. She wants wings to fly... She wants to touch the sky.. She is one for all.. Waiting for her dream call... Everybody who liked her tried to convince. . But she is nobody's angel .. She doesn't have a prince...
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Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 2:26 AM UTC
She is nobody's angel
You had your life figured out, Just barely 12. Are white lies Still white When they lead to Darkness? And thats exactly where you went. Tossed into the darkness, Thrown roughly by cold hands. At first, You tried to box up the little things. Fold them neatly into squares, Push them aside. But soon, Too many squared troubles. The squares led to boxes, boxes to crates. Finally so many that you Shoved them into the dark, Slamming the door and leaning tight against it To prevent the monsters inside from escaping. And the piles and piles of unsolved misfourtune With that tiny silver earing and A little white lie Turned to darkness, And you were thrown in with your piles, Left to rot alone Nobody to hear your cries now.
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Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Still Gone
what if one day we found that some one pressed fire on all the nuclear war heads. im not ready to be vaperized for little to build my survial gear im afraid cause i willlove every i loved in life what do we even do do if we even survide every thing is gone. every thing makes me fear causeit could be a accident set off war head killing every one in the thousand yard blast. im not ready to die i want to do as many things as possible. i just am not ready to lose everybody i have my tears when i watch the news earing them talk about war. i dont think i can handle much more i have the list of gear to survive what is going to see mean my family. i am scared to dye cause i just want more time to enjoy the littel things then enjoy things im not reat to be vaporized ,
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
fear of dyin from nuclear warfare
~ The morphine undissolved upon his dry and cracked tongue Mother frantically grabbing and sobbing asking 'why' even though cancer had been devouring him for years I slid a silver ring off his cold finger feeling the thin and frail culture I thought back to massive hands holding wide leather belts who would be able to discipline me now More pills swirled around the toilet bowl everything that wouldn’t get mom or I high sank and disappeared I think I flushed my feelings that day too Fading images play in my mind his braided hemp cord necklace woven around a tiger’s eye the black heart earing that I lost almost the same moment they wheeled his body out into the day mom collapsed like a dying balloon in dad’s chair her red watery eyes looking up at me still holding the same questions   /
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Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
The Same Questions
W-ounded she was scarred ,she still feels the pain O-h the pain she couldnt bear one that drove her insane U-nderestimating the damage,Now she weeps for her bane N-ever had she imagined ,the sorrows that would stain D-istorting images that would strain ****** her brain made her sane T-he sounds torment,twisting her veins H-arsh realities those which never wane A-nd even still ,she cries in vain T-he past still whispers like a weeping swain N-ever object ,never complain E-teched and carved but she couldnt explain V-ulnerable wound ;forever remains E-nraged her soul which drenched in  rains R-avens flew;she stared them through ;the window's pane H-earing the echoes,forgotten arcanes E-agerness betrayed her she was never fain A-che still lingers so she drugged herself ******* L-unacy drove her mad and now she was dead and lain A-nger burnt her alive but she still couldnt complain M--adness made her demonic and now she wears her chains I'-ntricated with restrictions she holds herself abstain S-eculuded in her solace a fear she still contains E-mpathy she had lost, one she never had to gain R-efrained the sentiments inside just so she would retain Y-et she still sobs; behind that old chayne T-he anguish she lives with while being still and plain H-ear this message dear i beseech and constrain A-gony strips and rips her but the clearity she maintains T-he porcelien smile ;one for which she trains N-ot letting it show; the misery she obtains E-legance she tries to mask; beyond her domains V-engeance bleeds inside ;mascarred and slain E-rupts from her bones until it sprains R-an and ran forever; and now she holds her cane E-nd her pain forever let her rest and lain N-ested in some peace a peace that she disdains D-ie and demise she sings with the cranes S-epulchural wounds and agonies For always would be her deign                    _____tsuki no ume~
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Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 2:19 PM UTC
"The Pain that Lingers~"
W-ounded she was scarred ,she still feels the pain O-h the pain she couldnt bear one that drove her insane U-nderestimating the damage,Now she weeps for her bane N-ever had she imagined ,the sorrows that would stain D-istorting images that would strain ****** her brain made her sane T-he sounds torment,twisting her veins H-arsh realities those which never wane A-nd even still ,she cries in vain T-he past still whispers like a weeping swain N-ever object ,never complain E-teched and carved but she couldnt explain V-ulnerable wound ;forever remains E-nraged her soul which drenched in  rains R-avens flew;she stared them through ;the window's pane H-earing the echoes,forgotten arcanes E-agerness betrayed her she was never fain A-che still lingers so she drugged herself ******* L-unacy drove her mad and now she was dead and lain A-nger burnt her alive but she still couldnt complain M--adness made her demonic and now she wears her chains I'-ntricated with restrictions she holds herself abstain S-eculuded in her solace a fear she still contains E-mpathy she had lost, one she never had to gain R-efrained the sentiments inside just so she would retain Y-et she still sobs; behind that old chayne T-he anguish she lives with while being still and plain H-ear this message dear i beseech and constrain A-gony strips and rips her but the clearity she maintains T-he porcelien smile ;one for which she trains N-ot letting it show; the misery she obtains E-legance she tries to mask; beyond her domains V-engeance bleeds inside ;mascarred and slain E-rupts from her bones until it sprains R-an and ran forever; and now she holds her cane E-nd her pain forever let her rest and lain N-ested in some peace a peace that she disdains D-ie and demise she sings with the cranes S-epulchural wounds and agonies For always would be her deign                    _____tsuki no ume~
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40
Life is a series of circles, That's why we don't like it as much. Because it's only back and forth, Around the course. It's getting better for a while, Then going back to where we were. We can't accept who we are, It doesn't work like that. There's too much piled on, That makes us want to rot. It's something better, Then the same. I only like one loop, It's the flashy earing, On the girl I want so bad, Sometimes. Because she's exactly what I have in my head, Though I understand I could never have her hand. I was made to fight in this broken place, She was made for better things.
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Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 1:48 PM UTC
Loops