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Deeee Jan 2018
I don't want to be here.
Yet I am

No chains on my wrists
No shackles on my ankles
Yet I am here
Where I don't want to be

There's no gun to my head
No knife to my throat
Nobody watching me,
Holding me captive

So why am I here?
**When I don't want to be?
Lizzy Nov 2016
I don't want to be this way,
Scared and on edge,
With my heart
And my mind
Locked far away.

But what can I do?
I'm battling with
Logic and love
All while trying not to bleed
In front of you.

I'm sorry
That I'm not brave enough,
I'm not strong enough,
To leave behind
My defense mechanisms.

But if you just stay,
Maybe soon I'll stop
Being so afraid
Of what I have to say.  

If you keep holding me,
Maybe the chains
That bind me
To this weight of fear
Will dissolve slowly.

If you keep loving me,
I'll rip my heart out
And let you keep it.
Sorry if that's too gory.

Please keep loving me,
Because I can feel
The darkness
Beginning to recede.
I can feel myself
Opening to the love
I've been dying to receive.
Peter B Mar 2018
Would you
swap yourself
for a hostage,
that you may die
and that there may be
no reward,
no Heaven,
no afterlife?
Would you?
Would I?
Would anyone?
Poem inspired by Col. Arnaud Beltrame, French hero officer who swapped himself for hostage and sadly died in a terrorist attack on a supermarket in Avranches, western France, yesterday. R.I.P.
Sarra Jun 21
You say
I'm a live river
Quenching your needs
showing you the road
Melted bronze
mending your cracks
filling your shallows
I'm a burning flame
guiding you home
reviving your soul

I say
I'm a dead ocean
poisoned with your delusions
murdered by your conceptions
Shattered Jade
crushed under your repression
grinded by your avidity
I'm a dying star
drained by your vanities
****** into your darkness

I say
Set us free.
Ola Gia Aug 2018
Close me off, and stare me down. Please tell me this is it.
Beggar true, and free me from the bounds.
Hands are locked together, as they plead, whilst you sit.

Are you okay? Not too tired from when you hit
again, and again, my existence into the ground.
Close me off, and stare me down. Please tell me this is it.

I ache for the solace, and solace here you ripped
me away from the choir of all sound.
Hands are locked together, as they plead, whilst you sit.

Cling to me, and leave the bruises of your grip
for all to see, when soon I want to be found
Close me off, and stare me down. Please tell me this is it.

All those screams are left hanging, bury them quick.
Let them stay hidden, leave them underground.
Hands are locked together, as they please, whilst you sit.

Wave goodbye, and farewell. But first I must rip
the mask from the face that is mine, as it looks down.
Close me off and stare me down. Please tell me this is it.
Hands are locked together, as they plead, whilst you sit.
Caged inside of my ribs
She is the inner child in me
Holds my heart as hostage
In return, for her to be free
How do I satisfy her
A wild child, is she
True freedom and happiness
Cannot be given entirely
As she rattles my heart
Against my ribs so violently
Causing my chest to ache
Reminding me indefinitely
I have neglected her for too long
I pay the price regretfully
For as long as I am alive
She is trapped within me
Kimberley Mar 23
i can finally breathe again,
no longer does my love for you
restrict the breath fighting to escape my lungs
like a killer's hands
to his victim's neck
Pulse Apr 3
i miss the days when i was little
i miss thinking i had a home
home is safety and love and i miss that
i miss thinking i had something safe, something loving
ignorance is bliss until it swallows you whole.
because i never had a home.
i had a trap,
one that covered all its sharp edges and malicious nature,
with honeyed words and sugared actions.
one that hurt me and tore me down
while in the same breath giving me just a big enough shred of love to keep me pliant and obedient.
to keep me blind.
to make me become my own destruction

this is a poem of hiraeth my dear,
it is an acknowledgement of something i miss and something i want and something i have never had.

this is a poem of longing for a place that i can call my home,
a home where i need not worry for my safety,
where i need not be scarred.

maybe one day—
for now, the hiraeth settles into my bones and keeps its grip on my heart
in a house that is not a home,
and an empty feeling in my soul
hiraeth:  A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.
Trauma tried to mold me
Hiding away I developed phobias
Shrinking into myself  
He planted the layers of  youth with deceit
While I held the truth
Dissociating and unfolding mentally
My clothes,  my body felt foreign
His lips tried to instill shame
I'm weary and shy now living with anxiousness
Why did not anyone see this? I often ask why
Blinded and fooled or just ignored?
I want to be secure again and begin to heal
Seize the moment to have control
No longer a hostage in my own mind
Emma Howard Jun 10
Were you a victim?
Were you held captive?
What was the ransom?
How deep was our bond?

Were you in chains?
Forced to be bound to me?
Or is that the way
You want to be seen?
Short verses I’ve been tweaking. WIP.
Alaina Moore Aug 2018
I'm starting to think it's me.
Maybe I ask to much,
though, admittedly,
maybe's it's because
I don't know what I am asking for?
I am starting to think, it's me.
Maybe I am the problem.
Or maybe that's just the voice in my head,
like a vice,
crushing any minor thing,
like an atom,
until it splits with the force of a thousand suns.
Or maybe it's everything else,
me included.
Maybe I just say it's me,
because I am my biggest bully,
and easiest target.
I thought I was asking for simple things,
but nothing seems simple anymore.
I just want these ropes untied from my hands.
Trapped in my own mind like a hostage,
who doesn't care if they make it out.
There is no greener grass on the other side,
I just wish this grass wasn't wet.
Sticking to me like feathers and tar.
I'm starting to think that I am just coasting along,
waiting for someone to help me fix my boat for me, before it sinks.
Andrew Nov 2017
You're an inspirational exciting jolt
Like an invitational lightning bolt
I'm suddenly shocked by the results
When I am blocked by your revolt

You have my beating heart in your hand
Holding me hostage where I silently stand
Staring at your ****** butcher's cleaver
That morphs me into a landlocked ******

You're a two-hander
Like a sledgehammer
Or a radar jammer
I start to stutter and stammer
When I see your weekly planner
And the lack of my presence
Because I'm incessant
You hold a pencil and an eraser
You delete when I become a tracer
And start to draw a better replacer

You hold the scales of justice
Though I claim you're unfit
You say add that to the list
From the throne where you sit
And there's no avenue for any recourse
When your other hand holds so much force
I must deal with your actions
So I can stay in your faction
For my heart's attraction

I am never right
So we never fight
And we never might
Understand each other
When we're taking cover
From exposing vulnerability
An exploding soul is filling me
Because the cold mist killing steam
Between us until you are only a dream
And my mind starts bursting at the seams
Until there's a monster barely mentally caged
But the bars shake when it is constantly enraged
When your saccharine emotions are cynically staged
My bustling brain will unfortunately always be plagued
By your neutral reactions which I'll never be able to gauge

You hold two hands behind your back
Will it be an attack?
Our two hands should meet
Instead I'm trampled by feet
ryn Aug 2014
Hold my heart for ransom
In exchange for your sweet whispers
Kisses and sighs in tandem
Along with moonlit midnight capers

Take my heart as hostage
A willing one it would be
Deep within its bony cage
Working up into a frenzy

Hold my heart at knifepoint
Incised upon I've already bled
Over cracked notions and disjoints
Chasing after hope that hasn't fled

Brand my heart with your seal
Press into and make your mark
Folded within is all I feel
Behind your insignia so stark

Choose my heart for blackmail
Ask of me whatever
Hope to accomplish without fail
Hopes of us do not sever

Play my heart like a toy
Adore me and hold me tight
Handle me with child-like joy
Share with me, squeals of delight

Mould my heart of clay
Wrap your fingers, twirl me round
Make me worthy of another day
To celebrate your sight and sound

Lace my heart and tug at it
Pull me closer so I could be near
Bind me tight so I would fit
Coveted spot beside you, dear

Enslave my heart on all fours
Lead me through your universe
Close behind us, lock all doors
Subject me to love's greatest murmurs

Place my heart next to yours
Let me be enamoured to the brink
In due time, and on laboured course
Perhaps we would finally beat in sync
Even sweetest muse
cannot carry the burden
which singing of you
drops on pearly gates.

Given the choice between
heaven or hell,
you have chosen the path
that leads to a better place
for everyone involved.

Demonic swathes attempt to
steady themselves
for the barrage of good fortune
that sight of you brings
to the condemned and their kin.

I hate it when you do that;
the way you dissolve a
malignant thought
with some melodious sentence,
whatever it may be.

Your voice
is the judgement in my mind's courtroom
that breaks the shackles
holding my ego hostage,
where flowers do not bloom
and hope is six feet from reality.
(wasted breath)
Remind me again love,
What was our situation?
Was it effervescent love,
Or a hostage negotiation?

;Dedication defined: "The way I looked at you even in our worst moments"
What is, Stockholm Syndrome?
I know
a room
holding a soul
hostage inside it.

among other bones,
it indexes my ribs, there,
on the other side of the drywall.

I, bound
by knotted knowing wires,
writhe along its dividing line:
dissecting the silence
that forever ticks
our timedlines
as such.
Chasing a statue, and it's getting away.

Waiting for the sun in some desert lands
as the weightless yacht sails through the sands.

My mind has gone rouge
and it's taken me hostage.

Wave to the slaves,
You've nothing better to do.
Give me your mouth,
I've something to show you:

Strobing images flow
to form a sea of subtly,
veracious emotion;
The black and white chequered tile floor,
In a baby's pupil, iris and more.

We are the greatest threats
to the fabric of society:
Terrorists, drug dealers, hackers and poets.
The drones of humanity tremble at the mention of our true profession.
Are they alive
or merely undead?
The difference struggles to comprehend.

Paper bullets fly through the air like locusts
as a torrent of words enfolds upon us.
"Did you think to **** me?
There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to ****.
There is only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof."
Love the feeling as it falls apart;
When the chaos breaks into a line and gives birth to art.
-Line Twenty Four, Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six from V For Vendetta by Alan Moore.
L B Sep 2017
My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to

...the remnants

Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....

This-- chair
is his

I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
I fear--
his mind....

I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--

Paradise is Lost....

This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared

Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...

Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine  
quaking quiet in her corner

Aunt Nell,
as blind as smart-*** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale

Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl
Both of my grandparents died a year apart in the midst of The Great Depression, leaving four of their kids below the age of twelve.  The family struggled through it and WWII that followed.

My Grandfather was a police officer as were a number of his descendants.

The house enfolded them, sending their stories like flares across the generations.
Carter Ginter Sep 2015
I am darkness
a souless being trapped
within a world of expectations,
where we live for nothing
aside from our need to please
whomever we deem fit to be
worth suffering for.

Death looms around every corner
sneaking and leaking through
the walls and into the cavernous slits
dug deep into the unstable barriers of my
demented, sickened, disturbed mind.

I see nothing but never-ending black space
spanning for miles in every direction
but, sometimes, a flicker of light illuminates
a single line across my path
scratching through the key holes of
the hundred of doors, always locked,
protecting the world from my wrath and
holding me hostage
until Insanity offers its hand
to lead me to my only escape.

She is light
the brightness I've seen so rarely.
Her world, one of complete coherence
where everything serves its destined purpose
a cold world I know not of
but she is always so warm
so happy
and knows nothing of
the torment caused by that
blinding, taunting ray
trespassing into my world
my darkness
my home.

Sometimes, though,
it breeds hope of a better future
where her purity and
my evil nature can collide
morphing into an electrifying New
and it can be ours, together.

Then the beam dissipates
and I am alone,
until my nightmares welcome me back
and devour my soul until I drown
in my own destiny.
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