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Shirley Antonio Sep 2018
Blood wounds.
Smell of euphoria outside.
Today is Saturday.
I'm here bitting my tongue
And I'm going to listen to the talk of my fake friends.

Why they are you so afraid of getting old?

I will then go downstairs in that room where there are people with hot skins.
And I'm going to dance alone.

These pretty girls are so boring.
Everyone wants to die as heroes.
But people will continue to talk with their white teeth like snow.
I will continue to dance alone.

I'll be my best friend.
I will forget that people were born to die.
But people will continue to talk.


I feel so alone.
At the same time the smell of this feeling was so good.

I'm going to take sleeping pills.
I will continue to bite my tongue.

I never wanted to go back here.
I like to live in romance with my dreams.

I'm lying on the floor listening to their noise from above.

Here seems that no one is good enough.
It's funny and scary but I've never felt so alone.

But I'm going to keep dancing and let people talk.
In the house of a million dreams without fears.

Suddenly everything seemed so beautiful.
So I went downstairs to take pictures of everyone's dreams.
To remember that I'm going to continue a girl without life.
Dreams
wordvango Jul 2015
when I turn my head and look at things
sideways
Consider the edge of light and dark
mathmatically an asymptote approaching
infinity vis a vis the starlight
I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now,
is the past, actually, someday when it crossed
milions of light years,
to be in my telescope,
The closest I can be to now,
is a memory when I percept it.
On a daylight, I think might,
my real no matter how fast or hard I try to
be in it,
is a past forever.
Imagine how much larger cities were
Back when you had to walk through them
Walls and pathways unraveling
Roofs chewing through the skies
It would be the only one you'd see
You wouldn't see it all
And thousands faces everyday
Thousands of doors going their way
And milions of windows
Which would see the world once a day
To each their tired strident noise
To each their tiny room

You would carve your street through your feet
And you would know what its name means
Remember what some walls meant
Or what some would be trying to
Many great things you'd like to see
Were simply built for you to see
By people who died long ago
But meant to show you some nice things
To live around and die under
They wouldn't have bothered
If they didn't think you'd be there

Walls seem to stand against the seas
Of leaves , water, or flying sand
While signs would tell you where you are
And tell you where to go
All around arms dance through the air, try
Looking for somewhere new to build
A place where you could have beeen born
And see what can be done
In that place where grandparents played
Where many grandkids would
Under a flag that stood so close

Soon serenity will prevail
And sky begins to lose its grip
On former people's houses
Gently sinking into the past
Some chiseled bricks
Will lay to rest beneath the silent waves
As forgotten as you
were already long ago
Then nobody more would know
Please do something
Because I haven't seen Venice yet
I've been told old rocks have been pilled up on eachother in a quite meaningful way there
Tijana Jul 2018
I dont want to know if your mother slapped you when you were a child, or your daddys love was very mild. There is NO excuse for abuse. And the fact you're hurting someone, molesting someone, torturing someone  can never be disaproven or made "alright"  just because you had a  "rough"  childhood. Guess what, I did aswell, people that read this did aswell, milions of people did aswell, yet they dont go about strangeling cats or murdering inocent dogs.They dont go about hitting women, molesting them, draining them emotionaly, or even worse ****** them.When will we learn the error of our ways, How can we be so dismayed by these beings that arent even human, but monsters, pure brutal, filthy animals, that if you ask me, have no right to live...
Not a poem, just something I need to get out of my system, because Im sick and tired of these abusers that think can get away with anything they want.
Elihu Barachel Dec 2014
People scurry to and fro, oblivious of Doom
You were warned you were warned...death most certainly does loom
-
World War 1 is history, 37 million dead
World War 2 was somewhat more, 60 million bled
-
Another World War, the last one of 3 planned
It is coming soon! The flames of War are fanned
-
Atomic Bombs and Poison Gas, the Wrath of God poured out
Millions millions milions die, this without a doubt
-
Pretend it isn't so, keep your head stuck in the sand
You'll be killed and sent to Hell, not the Promise Land
Jay Oct 2017
why on earth did we need the feeling of pointless to survive milions of years ago?
gabby May 2020
the heart gets used to coldness.
those butteflies feel frozen.
and you realise
a brainfreeze is better than
milions of burning thoughts.
had this poem in mind while eating ice cream.

— The End —