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Jessica H Oct 2012
Left with traumas that are immensely heavy, too frail to keep dragging them along.
To flee is not an option
my woes have quick legs to chase me,
I fall to the ground in exasperation,
to wait for an able-bodied hero that will never come
cait-cait Jan 2015
can hearts be heavy like
the bags under my eyes,
or is my
illusion of gratitude
just stronger than
my effort to stay awake
im so tired i hate working and i hate being alone***, and now i have to write more for class ugh ****
PS Rowland Jan 2015
Pressure to conform
I will never be enough
My spirit is crushed
© All Rights Reserved P.S. Rowland
RCraig David Apr 2013
From my "Bestifreadaloud" series about a girl that got away that Spring because I waited too long.

Part 1 The Past
A case made now faded of a simple place, a time, a space,
a perfect moment let pass in haste.
Clasped in clashes,
brash in passion,
rose from ashes,
desire fires every second's essence as it passes,
a ton amasses.
Fast bloom,
Blast!! Boom!!
The past relapses.
Notably lesser song notes float hopeful, emotional ends and remember whens.
Sent us spinning, then spin adrift again.
Sprung in spring, we fell,
Some are reasons to recall.
Summer's season breaks, we fall.
Flocks fly down and fallen callings fade to Winter's south.
How fate related still debated.
Re-Sprung the next Spring' rise, chance misses fate this date.
I weighed and debated and waited too late

PART 2
Still all these years alone, the "one", the "purpose" unsought.
Capturing thoughts,
The ones I caught and tossed,
Things I was taught and lost.
Proof framed and embossed for a cost.
Coping through the unabashed hopes to one day cash in on all this stashed trash I clash with.
"Smash it?" ...the thought crossed.  

Unimpressed by my evidence of self-less requests,
pursuit of self-evident truth proves a most ruthless abuse.
Even less are my skewed protests for “selfish quests" at the behest of the very strangers I sought to impress.
I digress.

The years compound, bossed around, kicked down but soundly employed,
I turn cold, blaming Freud for defining my non-violent, intolerance threshold on page 23 of some textbook I should have resold.
I go silent. Grow old.
"While your whining and shunning your shinning,
They're sinning and winning." Bad timing.

Girls come, go and follow this shallow, hollow fellow on the run.
While preyed upon...I paid a ton. I play.
The sum never more than the cost of rented fun.
Without insight but consent forthright,
my 30 years of intent were spent in a fortnight.
Still bent on shedding every pound of one first-moment's ton I lost not won.
Can't buy happy for less than the cost of your one-ness.
While prayed upon...paid a Son, they say.

part 3

Ohh the wait....
Ohh the weight...
My set-adrift-soul's mending depends solely on tossing
lost cause cost-spending into thrift.
Well it's a beginning.
All the amassed notes, quotes, boat-floaters,
and sailboat hopes spun in one 1-ton loss moment sprung that one Spring.

Now and again, it creeps in,
like slowly growing stinging nettles around a squelched,
once steaming scorched dream kettle.
Still stays packed away in my heart's darkest parts.
Blurred by time and place,
this burning, misplaced furnace space lays in wait.

Such compiled cold-case denial files from other life trials, lay piled in haste on my proverbial, "less pressing" messy desk of "not ready to face."
Too scared or daring to date, try to relate or contemplate
how to best equate this great weight.
Wait?... Wait.
Elation brewing from pursuing future fruition or ensuing
pure ruin gates these fates from moving, year-to-date.
For the sake of trying or dying forsaken,
another day awake is another day gained or taken.

I found her again,
the town's she's in
but she is taken and then
She learns of my wait, it's weight, my fate, she's shaken,
another ton amasses again. I pretend.
Lay down.
Drown the score of sounds surrounding.
Furthermore, slow the pulse-pounding abounding your core.
Fill your breath.
What is less is gone, tomorrow more.  

by R. Craig David-Copyright 2012
I felt it crumbling
I felt it falling with the rain
The invisible
I felt it falling
Bits and pieces
Shreds and ribbons
The clothing of my wings
As *** unpacked the wraps with haste
Like a restless child
Tearing down the gift
Together with the wrapping

I felt it falling
Scorching on the skin
Of frail reveries
Soaking wet I felt the taste
Of gasoline
And drowned the rain
Into my eyelids
Night Feb 2
sometimes, I fall into deep despair,
plagued with thoughts
and
remembering every moment,
and second
that hurt.
I feel like a failure for every moment
that I cause anger,
that I cause you to get lost,
that I cause a change,
sometimes for the worst.
Maybe its true
that I everything I touch
with my heavy hands,
shatters at some point,
and
it is what I end,
picking up.
Its why I always end up with
broken
and
bleeding hands.

Only this time,
I swear,
this too shall pass.
connor Apr 2
There's a burning feeling in my gut,
A heavy feeling in my heart.

I have no title for these feelings.

I may just be hungry,
Or am aroused.

But I don't believe myself to be.

They say a heart's a heavy burden,
especially when you're in love.

I wonder if that is what I am experiencing?
Its five minutes past midnight, and I can't sleep. Thank goodness for poetry!
Amanda Jul 24
Heavy-chested, I try to release emotions,
The moon shakes its head in dismay,
Seasons unwinding, heartache in slow-motion,
And in weather hides words I can't say.

In the thick sincere compliments
Concerns flail, attempt to get out,
Bang on barriers, will not budge,
'Life consumed, hopeless doubt.

Mind enveloped in fear,
Shackled by trusting nature,
Wings clipped, self-made prisoner,
I wonder if you sense restraints stir.

Certain only one choice allowed,
A crowd of disapproving eyes stare,
Maybe stars can take me far from this place,
They twinkle, dreams in night air.

Want to shine with a similar light,
**** areas stand in protest,
Hold back the glow, I seem dimmer,
Searching for a spot to rest.

Weakness planted in crevices,
Rosebushes bearing thorns blooming,
Learning to love myself even when no one else does,
I'm hard to be with, I am only human.
Love me when i least deserve it, because thats when i need it the most.
Zell Mar 2
My ankle is chained.
I gripped on the railing of my sinking ship, hoping i could pull myself out of the water.

As i waited for rescue, rain poured down and waves grew bigger.
The chain attached to my ankle was too heavy that my hand was already slipping. I had to let go since it felt like i was being torn in two as i was being anchored down the depths of the ocean. I was sure my ankle bled from the chain's tightness and the weight that was pulling me down but i couldn't feel the pain. All i felt was the freezing cold water and my heavy chest.

It was as if my heart carried my whole weight.

I never wanted to drown but i felt like i no longer had enough strength to resist. I gasped for air one last time and yet even the air felt like poision.

Now i felt the physical pain. It stung.
My throat was on fire as i allowed myself to be dragged further down. I closed my eyes as tight as i could and clenched my teeth while my body trembled in pain and my chest felt tighter.  

This. This was the only time i hoped my heart would stop beating. but no matter how i hard i wished or prayed, it wouldn't stop. It felt like an hour of drowning and yet i was still conscious. It's my fault. I built it like this. I built it with hope and faith for years. Now i couldn't understand whether it was for good or bad. To hold on to life or hold on to the pain?

Slowly, i was being pulled deeper down the ocean. I tried to open my eyes but i couldn't see anything anymore. There was nothing but the color red.

I never knew i had this amount of blood. Enough to build an ocean which only *** can make.

I'm still alive. I can move.
But i am stuck underneath this ocean of blood with my chest still tightening, unsure of when the pain would stop or if anyone could find me at this depth.

You said you'd come visit. So I left a note on my desk hoping you'd find it. I went cruising even if i hated the waters. I brought an anchor and a chain with me but i left its key on the desk too. I had no idea what it was for or why i brought it. All i knew was i was watching the sunset and it was suddenly chained to me when darkness came. I didn't know how my ship sank or how i got in the water. Maybe it was not in good condition. But then again, i knew you would check it everyday because you told me so.

Where are you? Have't you read my note yet? Did you come visit? Are you on your way?


I'll be here waiting, holding on, and hoping that your hand would be the first one to pull me out of my misery. Even if i know you'd never read the note in the first place.
© 2017 D.A. Barreras
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