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Marrisa Jul 2018
We are strong, correct me if I'm wrong.
We are a work of art with a loving heart.
But once we were pulled apart by those we trusted.
Yes, the same ones that were disgusted
by the mere mention of our names;
the ones who never shared the blame,
whose only aim was to bring us shame.
It was easy to see we did not belong,
to stay would just prolong the torment.
Still, here we are to represent the innocent.
We may have been fragile once, a little too nice..
but that does not justify the slices
staking claim to our bodies,
stealing the territory we took for granted.
There will always be lies planted inside our minds
that are growing into vines, suffocating us..
but it does not justify the inhumane pills taken
to ease the pain that can't help but remain.
The dreams that we dread and run from will come,
but they do not justify the bullet holes in our head,
our wishing to be dead.
There is a way, a reason to survive, to be strong.
But correct me if I'm wrong...
Deb Jones Aug 2018
Hurt isn’t clean.
It’s rot.
It makes strangers
Of everyone
You thought you loved.
Once hurt touches you
You are on your own.
It doesn’t matter
What hurt it is
That leaves a hole in you.  
All that stuff, they say
About emotional damage
Bringing people together?
Forget it.
Hurt surrounds
You with such
A powerful force field
Of misery,
That no one else can enter.  
I know, I have been there too.
You don’t get over it.
If you are doing well,
You get used to it.
You save it for silence,
For darkness,
For three o’clock in the morning
When you can’t sleep.
When you are alone
You feel heavier. As if gravity
Is your punishment too.
That’s the paradox of loss:
How can something that’s gone
Weigh us down so much?  
We only find answers
When we are ready to hear them.
That’s when you know
You are healing.
You will experience hurt.
It’s part of life.
Lessons to learn,
About love.  
There are a lot of people
That get stuck
In misery for years.  
Live lightly,
Live completely in the present
Don’t look back
And when you forget
Take that hot ball of pain
And grieve
I hope it gets smaller
Every time you acknowledge it.
Alice Aug 2018
Adaptability owes you an apology.

For ensuring you adjust to life's turbulence.

For demanding you greet the bad day with a smile.

For declaring that you Must seek comfort

In your pain.

Who is he,
That made you believe
Your pain was worth less
Than the effort it would take to recover?

Adaptability is your poison;
Reclaim your emotion.
It can be hard to regain the inner strength which feeds the soul. Society can make it very difficult to express the depth of your own sufferings, no matter how small. Truest sincerity comes with knowing who you are, and that includes your own pains. Be true to you.
PairedCastle Jan 2018
My heart flutters
I easily cry over just about anything recently
I empathize a lot
Truly, everything is nothing but a plot
I watched a movie, I cried
I watched a movie trailer, I cried
Is it the loneliness I feel of being alone?
Maybe, it is the beach shown in the movie
Maybe, I just want somebody
I want to travel, be somewhere else
I want to see the world
Like in the movie, Lucy... she just takes everything
Do you have any idea how much you make me smile?
Do you have any idea how much I want to close the miles?
I cannot help but smile when I see your pictures
I cannot help but wonder what if I am the one behind your smiles
M Aiman A Sep 2018
May the storm
Drag every inch of hell out of me
Along with the dread of this stupid loneliness
Spin it along with all of the shadows,
of the lovers that went wrong

Let this storm
Cleanse all of the remains
The pile of the endless city
even the fields of flowers and butterflies
That i built for you and wipe it all clean
So i can grow a better one for myself

This storm will end soon
And when it does
you will be as good as dead
And when it does
All that is left of your sanctuary in me
Is rubble and dust
one day all of my friends will start
having their own kids
living in their own house.

their wives prepared the breakfast
their husbands pay the bills
fetch kids from school
buying groceries

but I will still be here
writing poetry
to summon you back
never recover

sweet baby
how I wish I will be able
to be happy
without your kiss.
But I don't want that to happen
Sutherland Oct 2018
Murky water,
Depthless mud,
Drown by chains,
Bound by blood.

Onlooker, the key,
History, the judge,
Neglect, the decision.
Doomed to the sludge.

Filament of algae,
A shaky explanation.
The onlooker runs,
Blood left to damnation.

Onlooker lives,
Lacking of blood.
Drinking away his memories,
Of the murky water, and depthless mud.
This bares substantial meaning to me as I wrote it when seeing drug abuse by my childhood friend. Often times a poem speaks louder than spoken word. I sent him this poem and he is actively recovering today.
Arke Sep 2018
red torii gates separate the sacred
engraved with kana names
I step on the stone tiles
reinvent myself by praying
to every god I have never believed in
donating all the coins I have to shrines
the omamori will protect me
with pretty ribbons, silk, and wood
their birds guide to understanding
converting lies into truths before me
their paper songs a tender kindness
and there is courage within me
even as my voice turns to melody
my words spill out a tune
the temple walls hum
a chorus of veracity, louder
I have come to realize the importance
of moral authenticity within me
your gracious decency, divine
delicate gentleness with my fragility
from shattered pieces I rebuild
recollect myself and rise stronger
the sakura blossoms melt
the tide rises up the torii
compelled by a cold moon
wooden birds take flight away
and I return solid and true
Lyu Apr 7
Letting go of your hands
but it only gets harder.
Look into the mirror, actions speak louder
Falling through the clouds of puff
Having your head in face powder
Laying in flowers
Laying in dust covers
When will I land
In Dreams Of Recover
Alya Adzkia Mar 27
“babe you’re so fragile”

I know am

sharp edges
and pointed parts
might shatter me

and I’ll still crash myself more
to avoid me from dragging you too

but you’ll have me
wrapped around your warm arms
whispering me that
everything’s gonna be alright

— time can’t heal,
your existence recovers.
CK Baker Jan 2017
In time you’ll recover and absolve
push those scorned impressions aside
hammer down the jaded edges
and sing
that delightful commoners song
the one you sang so well
in what seems a lifetime ago

You really had it you know
that fiery disposition and nimble cunning
those butter chords and derelict style
we could see it -- we could all see it
it was all it took to turn the evening tide
(and rile that buck fever)
heads bashing
tongues lambasting
middle fingers high
and raising Cain on those may fly statesmen

There were no rules
when it came to your survival
no textbook rally or common bond
no structured songbird or bravado stage
you either made it, or laid it
“life by the *****” Mr. Poppy would say
a kaleidoscope of dreams
with rich colored imagery
hardened artisan seams
in a carefully woven motif

But something got lost in the needle point
something sinister and distorted took hold
the quirks and street genius
that were your lifeline
gave way to grunts
and squeals
and chilling night crawlers
the colors faded quickly
to a cold confining grey

There was no grace in the new world
no retribution or switch back
no salvation or accorded finale
only edged platforms of blackened steel
that kept you cased
in a silent vanquished cell
shivering cold with fear
night without day
all in the shadow of death

But time heals all
and the polish sneakers
and open sores are long gone
(though the roman nose and shallow cleft remain)
indeed the falconer beat the widow maker
this go around
and I’m hopeful it won’t happen again
and if it does you’ll see me
standing hand on heart
with that old verse in hand:

he ain’t tainted
or silly,
and most certainly
not forgotten…
he ain’t loony
or fixed,
or a product of his self-doing…
he’s just a straight shootin’ guy,
who had the most of it
figured out
Where as one told me a Girl so Beloved
Whose White Soldiers fought hard to overtake
But Bless her River-Red Defense involved
Un-sully her Soft-Flaming Mind does make
Grateful for the Favour you volunteer
Though Shy, Cross-Country we can still befriend
Souls like you, Countenance; And in Best Cheer
The Angel whose Healing Hands recommend
May I know your Name? So that I Sponsor
At least in Spirit Common Bonds reveal
Hands clasped, and pray for Hope in your Honour
Dear Sweet Maple from Mountie's Duty - HEAL!
I'll let you Rest now. And Mum take over
To Pepper your Dreams on Light's recover.
Verily, Twin Hearts in Friendship conceived
Is the Right Way to have Interpreted
When Shows like these make Public and Perceived
To give a Selfless Like un-expected
These Humans like me have a lot to Learn
To Grow what such Loyalty requires
Arthur in his Regality gave Concern
For Guinevere to foot what she desires
That is how a Follower must behave
When the Squire works best under the Light
Though empty in notice still carries to stave
For his High Lord to shine with all his Might.
You are that Peaceful; Such I discover
The Heretic in me I must recover.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Audrey Sep 2018
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover

It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
Alec Astaire Nov 2018
I finally tracked him down: the person within me who could live without you
So I made him a cup of tea and he began to prattle
About the demonic conductor of my symphonic heartbeats,
And the chthonic tranquility you once deposited into my life stream.
He sniggered at how, even now, I still attempt to draw from that diluted reservoir
In an attempt to discover anything more glorious that a utopian delusion,
An unwarranted euphoria derived from what someone might call the “good times”-
If I gave you the benefit of the doubt and admitted there really was a time your love wasn’t fictitious.
But, I digress
Because I wish you the best
Even if the good times discarded are times I should regret
There was a time when you uncovered my covert capacity for unexpurgated bliss-
The likes of which I had dismissed
As myth or at the very least unrealistic to attain.
Even if all of the solace I find in our memories is disingenuous,
I still thank you for way you fooled me.
And that’s why I screamed at him.
After the nightcap, I chased him out of the house for even flirting with the idea of his own existence.
For I have not the fortitude to meet with him for more than just a few moments.
Right now, I choose to cherish our memories until I forget that I love you,
Until the day I’ll be ready to unite with my harbinger of recovery.
Why in Baste Eyes my Form checks expect
Yet cast my Security for his Expense
Which, I suppose, that Report I prefect
Was a File un-welcomed for my Good Sense
Though, I assure, was all to contribute
For his Sweets added to his Nationed Chest
That, to chillax, take Tidbits absolute
And brisk the New Day for his Talent's Best
Now this, resolved to wax Slime and Conflict
Thus put my Loyalty to Terms reset
More fruitful, more pruned, from Pride's Tome inflict
Then this Orrery - strike Rocks to Sky's bet.
In turn perhaps recover from this Fling
On Muted Clouds do those Falcons still Sing.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
white bird Aug 2015
could you tell me everything
about your secret
that you've been buried
so deep in your mind

i want to make it lighter
i trust you -so you know-
i've told you for thousand times
can you open up?

let me be your safety place
your dearest diary
i will keep it secretly
just so you know

i want to release you from that chains
want to recover your wound
i know you confuse
so, please be honest with me
To find true meaning
you must first lose everything.
Even yourself.
Then you will understand
the gravity of things.

Hanging on the wind
like a plastic bag,
Dancing in the rain
like a white flag.
Relinquish your pain,
Then the world is yours to gain.
Change the game. Give it a name.

I value my privacy if you must know,
Because occasionally I need to be lost or alone.
Forgive me if I should seem so forlorn,
My mind likes time to recover on it's own.
For where my thoughts reside is where I often go,
To be revived
and rejuvenate the soul.

Hanging on the wind
like a plastic bag,
Dancing in the rain
like a white flag.
The instance when you realize
that anything is yours to have;
Born again.

If I don't survive, at least I lived.
Reborn in the fire
of the trials that I stood.

"Apply yourself",
Strive to live.
Line Twenty-Seven spoken by Walter White/Heisenberg from Breaking Bad
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
Listening to the favorite sound
Connecting the cosmos

Let the dream begin
Genre: Micropoetry
Noah Sholler Nov 2017
Lots of thoughts
And even more shots
Just to drown the pain
Or just to sustain

A calm face
In a public place
Where I got some space
At my own pace

I may recover
From this but I
May not have a lover
The trust wasn’t applied
Carter Ginter May 2013
My heart is damaged
Laying in a body that's been misused a few too many times;
Something even sleep can't recover.
Yet that sounds pretty good at the moment.
But the problem with that comes from the moment I slip out of consciousness,
For then I wish to never return.
And am disappointed to realize that in the morning, I have.
Traveler Jul 30
Why would I hate you
A heart's allowed to grieve
I would forgive you
Throughout time
And in-between!
Some of us recover
Even overcome
You were once as close
As Jesus to the sun
I sill love you
And now it's said and done.
Traveler Tim
You need rehab from me, and I’m sorry
but this isn’t healthy.
Admitting being a problem is sobering
And I hope you can recover from my withdrawal.
I’ll be busy detoxing myself, for you
For everyone after you.
I hope you remember how great you are!!
I'll be cheering you on from a far!!
& that you're better off
broke up with my boyfriend today and it was the classic story, opposites attract but they don't last.. almost everything that was attractive wasn't out of resemblance to one's self, but to the extreme differences in one another.
Struggling to want to communicate, is a red flag
ryn Sep 2014
I feel so lost and I have misplaced a part of me
Looking for answers in the rubble of emotional debris

How do you rebuild hard earned confidence
Smashed and swept, leaving no remnants

How do you stand on battered knees
And put on an expression that shows no crease

How do you recover something you barely just found
Something that exists neither above or below ground

Try not to limp because the world doesn't really want to know
If you braved through where thistles and thorns grow

They don't really care; In fact they might grow tired
Of the same dirge I insist on having repeated

I'm feeling the repercussions and myself I do blame
For expecting of you nothing less of the same

Only thing I can do is what I do best
Is to revel in overwhelming grief and fallen crest

Be annoyingly frail and exceedingly feeble
Soon may regret because some may deem it intolerable

Get up and chin up or I'll have more to lose
Still retaining the gift of breath I so choose

Pleading into thin air to quell the pain
As I try to piece myself all over again
Rain Jun 2018
My heart is not slashed through,
Not shattered into a thousand shards, still sharp
It is only bruised, but it will heal, it will recover

My mind is not fragmented,
Is not a rubber band pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment
It is only chipped, a small piece of sanity missing from a masterpiece of calculation, but it will heal, it will recover

My will is not crushed,
Not flattened into submission, never again to be raised in objection
It was only lying low in fear, hidden from your mirthless laughter, your jarring words spouting from a mouth of lies,
but it will heal, it will recover

My hope has not been stolen,
Is not a brief flare, quickly doused by tears shed solely because of you
No, the flame of hope has only wavered, flickering on the edge of extinguishment, but it has survived, and is here now as I finally gather my scattered courage to face you
No more!
My hope is no longer the tender flame atop a candle, but is now a roaring inferno
Pushing, shoving back against the tyranny of your control
No more!

And I am healing, I am recovering
And I will make it through.
I will become whole once more
Without you.
This isn't written about a lover, but rather an abusive or suppressive parent. Please remember that even if an experience changed you, even if a truly monstrous situation were to befall you, there is still hope for healing. No, things may never be the same, but human hearts don't work that way- we don't go through something and come out unscathed, but you can decide how something will change you. You can choose to stay strong, even if strong sometimes means crying long into the night, or getting help, if that's what you need. Strong is choosing to continue to fight, even when it seems like life is conspiring against you. Please remember that.
Dess Ander May 2018
I fell hard, head first, in love
Damaged my brain and couldn’t recover my mind
Whole but in pieces and believing you could save me
But your every truth was a lie
Whispering romantic **** convincingly like the serpent
And just like her I took a bite and didn’t want to let go
I let myself be poisoned.
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