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At dawn I found a hollow girl,
fair, with metal in her veins.
She spoke of narrow hallways,
with dew upon the doors.
She warned of fading quickly,
        her soul poured upon the floor.

She tugged and knotted at her hair,
as she spoke of horrorful woes.
She huffed, and sighed; it wasn't fair.
Then she felt cold water on her toes.

The shocking sting stunned her at first,
yet the needles slowly rised.
She hoped it wouldn't be the worst,
but still the needles rised.

They figured they couldn't mend her,
leave her broken on the floor.
There was nothing they could do
before she'd pass through that door.

"What else?" they'd ask the actors,
"What speech could we write next?"
They'd give her a special one
and for this she'll be blessed.

As they molded plaster
and preened her oh so nice.
They painted her a smile,
and emerged her into ice.
SELORM DEKU Jan 2018
With how sharp and deep you pierce, I'm sure you must have the sharpness and height of Goliath's spear.

No matter how many horrorful stories about you are told, nobody understands it until they have a personal feel of you.

Even when we tell them how we feel when you hit us, we remain the only ones who know how it feels to be crushed

You are almost like death - unknown until we cross the line.

Blessed are those who never met with you. But I wonder how much they would know about this life without an encounter with you.

Maybe every young man and woman must meet you sometime because if they choose well, they'd not leave bitter but better.

When you pass through a life,  it feels like drinking a full keg of cold liquor mixed  with broken glass pieces and more

Even chocolates are tasteless and love poems become meaningless once you arrive.

Your power can **** love, hope and joy and leave those who believed in them with momentary emptiness.

Though you once in a while  give the hint that you'd be passing, you mostly come unexpectedly to do your worst.

You are like the night that replaces the sun and feels our eyes with tears so we can't see the stars of night.

You see, those who are dead know they are dead but those whose hearts are broken never know exactly what it is they are going through.

Broken hearts don't heal, even when they come together, the scar remains like a tribal mark under makeup.
Membis Okorie May 2016
If men can for a tick
Link minds
With the Necessary part of the Society
Men can share
Sweet aim of terror
To change with destruction
Horrorful black sultan of the Map
With sacrificial blue-blood
Aware of approaching emptiness and dry up

If men can strike so hard
Exploding anger of joy
On the necessary part of the society
Why can't men be still to live?
To allow Anthem decay
Since the Crown is deaf and Blind
And embraces living dead

If men can clamour; men can call
The Necessary part of the Society
Opening comic mouth wider than walls
Who wouldn't be entertained?;
By the Necessary voice of the society
As tiny as the last key on Keyboard
Who would hear them?
Yet, willing to berry _
Exposing colourless set of frustrated teeth

Chord chewing thirty-two.
Terrorism

— The End —