"implanted" poems
Feel empty in your post apocalyptic City of Angels,
Where not even your pets are real!
An electric android, a sheep or a frog,
The whir-flutter of micro-electrical wings of a butterfly.
Good, and so you ought.
Now grab the handles of your empathy box,
And in a shared virtual hallucination –
Feel: empathy, depression, pain, delusion and despair,
The outré myriad gifts of consciousness.
Billions of discombobulated and disconnected wrecks:
Adam's sons; Eve's daughters,
And among them simulations too,
Fakes! androids!
A phony circuit of implanted semi-conscious memories,
A hive of neural malaise!
Welcome to our world;
know how dead inside I am.
You, yes, you:
Need a pet to make you more complete?
Maybe you can afford
A Fake Fakir Flake like me who looks like Jude Law,
Sounds like Richard Burton,
And silently romances you like Rudolph Valentino.
Come and stick what’s left of your mind,
In here,
In hair,
Hear her:
har, har, har…
A box of lies...
A voice, Mercer's,
With texture from an age you neither lived in nor dared in:
Al Jerry's, a TV actor,
Droning on in pre-selected tones.
The real thing, the men, the women, the children - their animals -
Made in the wild, wild desert,
In the green pulsing savannah,
On the open crusted sea;
Now too, washed, choked, and drained,
Too many spliced and diced mutations,
Iterating your image:
The thing that was my heart,
My Child, now its imitation.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
Blood is thicker than water as youth we were told,
But families are divided and their veins run so cold.
Funerals seem to be the only time they gather or talk,
Hard times are the only time on your door they knock.
From birth was taught family values and love implanted,
Feeling alone, unappreciated, and so taken for granted.
Could it possibly be they are feeling the same as me,
A visit, phone call, or text message could be the key.
They say I love you and to please call if ever in need,
Love from family is what my heart desires indeed.
Oh, how I miss my grandma cooking in the kitchen,
Always a blessing to gather and see everyone pitch in.
We shamefully have not carried on the traditions,
Of our loved ones gone before us full of ambitions.
Pride was instilled to honor thy father and mother,
To stand behind and support your sister and brother.
Neighbors and strangers did our family they make part,
Love not based on material things but from a true heart.
So get off your high horse and get over your ego trip,
It is time to pull together and bring back the kinship.
Love to you all and may you pick up the phone,
Don’t wait, they can not answer once ashes and bone.
VLK
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
I never knew what caused the truck to crash into our car that morning. Perhaps it was the rain and the road was slippery, perhaps it was yet again another case of “do not drink and drive”, or perhaps the man behind the wheel was not at all to blame, and that it was the fault of the engines.
The crash and screech of metal on metal was deafening. It happened so fast and when I woke, I looked to my side and saw a face I knew so well, except this time I could not see her beautiful features; her skin was covered in blood, like red paint splashed onto a plain white canvas. And in the red I could see glistening shards of glass, like diamonds proud to have finally found an owner. Then I heard in the distance, voices and shouts. I could not make out the words they were saying, as if I was trying to hear someone underwater. I looked up outside the window, and there stood a man shouting at me, a foreign face. I feel my tiny figure being carried out of the car window, as the door decided it would not open.
We waited on the terrace of an old lady’s house for help to come. The shock made me feel numb and so I just sat quietly, with the cry of my nanny in the background, her body hugging my sister and my mother, who are unconscious and have yet to know what had happened.
Then, I did not how, but I arrived at the hospital where I saw my dad run past me into the room. I remember mostly the smell of disinfectant and finding little pieces of glass in my hair.
I lost my ability to speak for a few days after the incident, and I feel now that it impacted me more than I thought it did.
The shock and horror are no longer, but it is strange now to remember what had happened. When I close my eyes and recall the accident, some details are so vivid and clear. Yet at the same time, I feel as though it all never happened, like it was some sort of false memory implanted in my head for no apparent reason.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
*Wildflower 'neath a
giant weeping willow,
comforted by the shade
her fragrance wafting darkly
whispered into the wind ~
she'd been 'betrayed by the sun',
frail tendrils blistered
of indiscretion below
burning discrimination,
fallen neath the cracks
suffocating a delicate essence,
she could no longer bear the
deep-rooted superficiality
of seeds buried within *****
little implanted secrets*
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Nov 2016 - The Fall Line
~
*all the lines of man-made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting,
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution,
remaining hopelessly empty,
defining the watery soluble
inequality of null*
~~
The Fall Line
first heard the phrase months ago in Argentina,
standing before the c-shaped Iguazu Falls
the fall line
where the crystalline basement rock
erodes away the oncoming soft sedimentary,
there, where,
a waterfall is nature-gifted
so intuitive, so obvious,
what else to call the water's owned edge,
line of demarcation,
where we grow captivated,
mesmerized, knee weak,
traumatized and tantalized
knew that instant when spoken,
The Fall Line,
saw inarguable symmetry to so many lives,
would be a someday poem
selective service phrases stored and
someday up recalled,
a thousand, maybe more,
waiting for the confluence of
time and place,
to be a mother
letting my fluid sac burst,
giving birth to a concoction symphonic,
the emotions waterfalling, cascading,
the precision, vision seconds,
when words
pour, gush, surge, spill,
stream, flow, issue, spurt
~~~
silently crafted in the weeks and months prior,
the unconscious drowning in ache and pain
of suffocating drudge sludge of everyday living
*all the lines of man made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution remaining empty, defining the inequality of null*
the vision infection of the majestic fall line,
so accessible in an instance of overwhelm,
cornea implanted, the sounding call of sweet blissful
whatever
one more additional addiction unshakeable,
jumping from fall line to fall line,
it's the game I am played,
but the controller
is not in my possess
**for the joy stick that drives my actions,
toys with me,
the human fool jumping
from fall line to fall line,
unsure of what he desires,**
salvation or saving
11/26/16
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
Left, right, straight ahead.
You are in the Labyrinth.
They want you. They will get you.
Their ice cold eyes are haunting you.
Blacker than the darkness clears a shadow every light.
Can you feel the hands reaching out for you?
They have implanted themselves into your head.
You're crawling away. But even if you would run..
Left, right, straight ahead. You are in the Labyrinth.
You can keep crawling.. lurching.. running away..
But deep down inside you already know
Nobody will ever see you again.
Nowhere are you really safe.
Never will you get out of here.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu
Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere
Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king
Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere
Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere
Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere
Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere
Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty
Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad
Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans
Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals
Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak
Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd
Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show
Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched
Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale
Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted
Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged
Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving
They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest
They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans
Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money
Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay
Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?
Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution
Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers
Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals
Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists
Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists
Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution
Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake
Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere
Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs
Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf
Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu
Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?
If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu
First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu
Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:28 AM UTC
you in quail feathers means
that your red is my red
and the way that you taste pizza
is the way that I taste it
our
homogeneous brains
hard mother
hard father
the states we were raised in
melt running through
area 41 where the nefarious
Rolando implanted
our splitting
branches
qualia
what it means for you
to have mental states
pure consciousness
perceiving you there
in the corner
your toenails still painted
purple
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
by
rgpage.
..his feet implanted steadfast
in the pessimism of his soul.
his wandering is for naught
lest he fall short his final goal.
arms made once for reaching
hang lifeless at his side.
hands once firm and strong
now weak through injured pride.
eyes which scan horizons
for good which lay ahead.
now scan the barren waste of life
so fruitless and so dead.
a heart once big enough to house
the world so innocent from birth.
let not this heart partake in now
love's merriment and mirth.
his mind his final touch with life
the leader of his soul.
now weak or dead through inner strife
can't reach a single goal.
is there a God so cruel
to make this jest of life?
man is God's finest tool,
if this is so than why?
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
infliction-
pain
could I have asked for any different?
your pierced skin and deviled eyes
rippled tears
drag across the blood on your skin
its over.
where are your scars?
you've done too much damage
or so you say-
naïve thoughts
you implanted false lies
floating in mind space.
did you think of how you would die?
your purpose
and your prose
what has it all come down to?
give me more than a reason
to spare your shriveled self
prove your worth.
but there is nothing.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
you swallowed prunes as if your life depended on it, and to your mental state, they were better than any gateway drug or needle implanted into your muscles
the rough exterior cracked and ripped apart your lips unforgivably; tearing down your esophagus with the force of a peach pit
you rubbed dried apricots onto your skin as if that could cure you of all your sadness; as if it could take the need to get away and drown yourself
until you were buried deep into the soil and there are flowers nestled into the crooks of your bones and you tasted of sweat, ***** and tears
when at night you sit on the edge of your bed contemplating life or death between sobriety and a drunk that lingers for days on end clinging under your nails
and to all the people who roll their eyes at you and say ‘you’ll get over it’
tell them to **** themselves; tell them that when they see apricots, they see sunshine, but you see death to infinity and beyond;
you see all the broken promises that were whispered into the knots in your back
you see the lily pads of roses that dripped with regrets and words that were never said
words that gripped your lungs like a vice in the back of a car
when you thought of love, you thought of apricot kisses rubbed against your lips;
of rolled up aluminum foil
of lighters drained of their fluids in a week time
of the close to boiling water that invaded your personal space and reached the tip of your nose
and of peach kisses from Georgia that dug its way into you; promising another day
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
*
I stared into the shadows
of a lover’s distant past
Heard whispers in the darkness
of the spell her heart did cast
As it raked across my feelings
and I cried out in the night
When this smile I was wearing
fit a little bit too tight
With her painted nails of crimson
like the color of my blood
She clawed at my emotions
as the silhouettes did flood
This morning found believing
that our time is filled with fate
Where I find my voice is screaming,
please don’t tell me it’s too late
She collected every promise
on the worries I did call
For she wanted me to know that
I could never have it all
Still I crawled into the silence
with my eyes so open wide
And together we were drowning
in the motion of the tide
In her arms now spun the seconds
of the minutes I could spare
Like a clock that’s steady ticking
darkened rhythms sent to share
Drinking thirsty from the fountain
as her finger it did press
On the chrome implanted wishes
of an early moon confess
For her smile was infectious
as it hid her ***** deeds
When I fell intoxicated
still to stagger in these needs
Tried to gaze off in the distance
but my vision could not stay
I was trapped in her seduction
and I could not look away*
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
I remember that day,
That faithful day.
The day I fell in love with you.
Right under that cherry tree,
The petals falling on our heads,
That day I looked into your eyes.
That faithful day brought about many moments of sorrow.
Some people chose to move on from us,
Like petals floating away with the wispy gusts of wind.
Those who chose to stay
And support us,
They are truly special.
Like rare flowers only found in the Spring.
But even if no one was left,
I would never leave you.
For we are a flower that never dies,
A tree that is never felled,
An unending embrace.
So even if there are no petals left on the sakura trees,
And all the flowers have been plucked,
We will still stay,
Our love unchanged.
Throughout the harsh winter
And the drought of summer,
We will never die.
When tests of strength are sprung upon us by the gods of the Earth,
We will stand firmly,
Implanted in the soft soil.
In the field of battle you are the sword,
Strong and courageous,
And I will be the shield,
Protecting you with the strength of my spirit and at your weakest points,
Even if blood were to rain from the sky,
And the tall, creamy pillars of this world were to crumble and fall to the ground.
Together, we are one with everything on this Earth.
We hail to no one but ourselves,
And we respect ourselves and the land around us just like any flower would.
But what the average onlooker doesn’t know,
Is that we are no ordinary flower.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
We are told looks are important.
It is implanted in our mind from day one. No one can tell the pain you're in if you look nice.
They can't kiss the mental scars withheld in your mind.
Dress to impressed it will help everyone stay blinded to that fact you are depressed.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
I stand before the mirror, circling everything I wish I could change.
Before long, there's more marks on my body than freckles on my face.
It's funny how you could tell me I'm beautiful, and I'll quickly forget.
But a simple 'you're ugly,' will forever be implanted into my head.
I keep my gaze down in front of strangers, terrified they'll see what I see.
My eyes are two open windows to the doubt and insecurity.
Maybe if I just smile, play along, pretend I'm alright,
nobody will suspect those are my cries they hear at night.
And I can't help but wonder what it's like to be pretty.
To make guys stop and stare, tall, tan, and skinny.
To throw on anything and walk with confidence out the door,
instead of trying on 13 different outfits and wondering why you try for.
Why doesn't God listen to me when I beg him to be someone new?
Just live in another's skin, is that so hard to do?
For a day, that's all I need, I want to see what it's like,
to not be the one who stares at her reflection and cries.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
I’m a lone wolf
howling in the woods
drawn into darkness
blinded by mere mysteries
I am that I am
because you are of what you made me
you’ve dispersed me into wilderness
you’ve made my soul as hollow
as a ill-treated tree of life
you are my weakness
you are joy
you are a demon implanted in me
I’m somewhere between psychotic and ironic
misunderstood by defiants ...
sometimes I don’t relate to my thoughts, my skin, my walk, and smile
sometimes I don’t know freedom;
is it reluctant obedience towards a fiend or constant countless breaths of a new life?
I’m not death
for I live in the presence of life
you were almost the death of me
but my artistry became the saviour -
the saviour of my soul, my mind, my heart
I’m a lone wolf
howling in the woods
where darkness was drawn to light.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
Connection
From the past just a voice memories come strong and fast the school its walls doors and windows dissolved they live still
They were an integral part you can’t interact daily come to know them how ever wide the divide extends over years
They were life then now in shadows they still command your imagination never very far from the heart quietly they thrill
Sometimes alone you deny and go but you can’t leave them they were implanted ingrained in your life always they exist
Difference opposite levels vary the constant going and coming a circle one in front one in back this defines grows character
The rubbing and friction goes beyond outer circumstances it reaches inner reality from this constant exposure an unbreakable bond
This is not mundane life these are core components we cheat and allow failure if we close ourselves off our own worst detractor
You will change yourself forever when stimuli and good will is rebuffed there pulsates defenses more than we know in past friends
A prison we make when we choose isolation brick by brick we wall ourselves in close out the sunlight that shines out of other hearts
Mix words with action and then allow yourself to be moved images possess power they can forcefully carry you to unequaled heights
Those long ago days hold seeds from a harvest that can be birthed again and of all times now is crucial the time is now get ready start
The sun at your back the future ahead speak without faltering you are the guiding light of all that is to be shared and made brand new
How strong the future will be is determined by how willing you are to reach into the past being selective you draw on all that is good
Fellow students your parents their history and victories all are your guideposts unerring unwavering their spirits lead a guiding star
Many battles long has been the fight discouragement drags your smile down enlightened others beat fear now you have understood
Yours and their quality is like timbers tested in great sea storms you have come into your own now masterful owners of life now give
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
The simplicity of complex
The pattern of disorder
As the thin line between love and hate
Between reality and dream
Are vulnerable, corruptible
The free will is a dream
The absence of submission is a dream
A dream of spontaneity of a rational mind
Conformity seen as a synonym of happiness
Nonconformity seen as a synonym of craziness
These paradoxes of synonyms and antonyms,
Of simplicity and complexity,
Of dream and reality,
Makes life seem to be already written,
As if reality were just a story
With all this characters not living, but acting
According to rules implanted.
WE LIVE IN A CAGE WHERE DREAM IS THE ONLY ESCAPE.
The advertising of sensationalism
Or might I say:
A distraction of the cage,
A seduction for conformity,
A beam of war and poverty to keep us blind,
Drunken of sorrows of others
And to thank the Lord for what we have.
These are some of the bars of the cage
Bars to be broken with science and art and knowledge
Or as some may say: with craziness.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
As low as nicknames go,
I chose the worst for you,I chose this as your position,
your time,
your place to me,
even if you're my third one,
you're all I can see.
You're my third one,
the third person to make me swoon,
You're my third one,
Though the first to make me feel torturingly alive,
You're my third one,
and you know what they say,
Third time's a charm.
I still feel guilty calling you Third
When you're my first
right now,right here,
Open or close,
My eyes,
They see your cheery white teeth
in your amazing smile,
My eyes,
They stare at your confident lazy eyes
coolly seeing,hiding your emotions in it's golden brown depths,
My eyes,
They appreciate your Greek-like,straight nose,
long with strength and sharp with confidence,
My eyes,
They see your mouse-like ears,
keen to casually hear
conversations you may not seem to care.
;
My eyes,
They see your fine build,
veins running downs places,up and over your tiny muscles.
My eyes,my heart,
they don't see your personality,
they only see the cool outside shell you've built around it.
Yes,occasionally,
you let go of that cool aura,
you goof off,you laugh,you act silly
with your friends.
And I'll stand there,
not even ashamed to stare
your perfection a glare
like your sun rays bear.
You like your sports,
your music,
your Dota 2.
I want to know everything about you.
That's the sad part,isn't it?
For me at least,I don't know about you.
I DON'T KNOW (ANYTHING)ABOUT YOU
YET I'M CRAAAAAZY
For you.
Get a hold of yourself,self.
The audience aren't here for screaming.
They want sadness ,tragedy,romanticism.
But damn,I can only give you guys 2.
There's no romance but in my head,my dreams,
torturing me with false hope and implanted feelings
No sadness but in my heart,
I can't have him,
I know,
I'm slowly tearing apart.
We don't talk,we don't speak,
we look,we glance,we sometimes take a dare and stare,
but
that's the only tweak.
There's no tragedy but in the non-romantic relationship between his friend and me,
I was called a stalker,
my best friend rudely rejected for small favors,
that's a tragic crushing history.
There were chances I could've taken,
if you,my Third One still sat on the bus,
when your sister wouldn't be between us,
but day after day
It slowly became a bust.
More sadness?
Well,summer's here.
I can't see you no more,
you didn't show the last week of school or the few days before.
I admit,I'm stalking you.
But I need you to stop stalking my mind,taking over my thoughts,my vision,
making me blind.
Maybe I'll forget about you the next 2 months.
It'll be hard but I'll try.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
People of cotton minds.
Implanted with chips of different sizes.
Shaken and stirred is what makes their thoughts...our thoughts??
Floating around in defiance of truth.
Floating around with uncouth language.
"I Don't Care"
That's what you write of fountain pens of sugar-coated darkness.
Floating around in an abstract, broken glass world. A world of a glass maze.
You think that by closing your eyes you can see better.
Open up.
At least then you can see the pain the world.
At least then you can see the problems of the human heart.
At least you can see the shattered glass on the floor.
At least you can learn how to love.
A loveless life is such a loss.
Such a misery of a life.
Without love. There is no life.
Floating around in fluff and wool.
Obliviously in destructive symphony.
Floating around once in a while.
To avoid the problems of the soul...
To avoid the problems of the heart, the world. . .
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Amputated from man
Amputated by man
Implanted to the outside of a wall
A foreigner refused entry into the family
The patern is as such: evrey need I fill
Opens up another two in me
One morning I awoke an amputee
And so it continued the whole life through
"How sincerity made a mad man of you"
If I ever face the mirror that's what I would say to thee
But me and my reflection have gone our seperate ways you see
Half a coffin for the amputee
I know they blame me and say how it's all my fault
Just cos I don't have a hatred for others
Which clearly they have got
Selfish to the core...vanity pride and greed..
Trick a poor stranger for an extra penny
Charge an arm and a leg from an amputee
God has unlocked my heart
But not the padlock on his gate
Heaven may be within reach
But hell is on a plait
So shall I DIE now??..is that what it will take ?
To make happy those so called "near to me"
To beautifie the amputee.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
Blows the lines of the white powder
Feel your body implanted in the fire
Your mind hits euphoria
The rush of drowning
Its heavenly
No man can stop the addiction of love
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Sad to say
Hope wasn't enough,
there was a thousand words battling in her mind
but her tongue remained numb
Deep into the late night hours
She hugs her pillows
and paint them wet
Realizing her existence in this world is inane and all her ways are complexed
Yet,
She was forged this way
An unbalanced scale of life
She was forced to stay
Agony of her loneliness brought penetrating pain
She cried even through the sunshine
Lived depressed during the rain
Whips from life's battles instilled on her frame
Perfectly tattooed on her skin
Innocence robbed from her before the age of ten
Those hands exploring her body never got approved
Scars and words of abuse was all she was accustomed to
From minds of the ones she loved
Grew extreme curious
Too see what lies inside of a woman for deliverance
Nights she cried tears that refuse to come
Glands denying the tears and sufferings that attempted to form
Rejected
The torture and sorrow in the glass of her reflection
Taught her venom which she perpetually spat at the girl in the mirror
Her thoughts was her MRSA, constantly eating her away
Rug burns implanted on her knees from all the nights that she prayed
Her life felt more painful than being engulfed into flames
Disgust boiled in the bottom of her stomach, just from hearing her name
No one understood her pain
No one even knew
Of all the dirt and infidelity her poor soul was drug through
Knives met her hands
Many nights she felt tempted but was too weak to stand
She'd rather fall
Full possession of her extremities but,
She rather crawl
into a deep dark cave
Than to reside in this World and become its slave
She was just a little girl
Dwelling in purity
A lost wandering soul
No form of security
For those who are believers and have even only a mustard seed of faith
Please
Pretty please
Remember her in your hearts
When you go to God and pray
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC