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"suffocated" poems
Polite Typical Smiley Daughter Pointlessly Trusting School District Professor Turns-blind-eye Struggling Drastically Packets Turn-to Stacks Deficient Panic Attacks Turn-to Self Destruction Pulling Teeth Sick Design Plans To Stop Discussing Peace To-her Silence Disturbs People Talked She Distracted Passed The Snacks-to Dinners Pulled The Same Dimensions Pre-K Then Smaller Didn't Pause Third-Grade So Dead Parents Though She Drowned Piled Thoughts Suffocated-her Dexterity Patient There Suffering Depression Problems To-many-to Score Dispute Progress That Shockingly Developed Potentially Taken-away-the Suffering Dramatically Poor Tiny Sweet Doll Part Traumatized Sleep Deprived Phobic though Sixth grade Doesn't Play Though Six-Years-of Death Until... The little girl, learned she had, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
PTSD
Alila syang sakal Tila nasa hawlang nasa labas ng sinapupunan Naghihikahos sya Humihingi ng tulong. Tinawag ko si Tatay Pagkat ako'y manikin Wala sa ulirat Habang sya'y nasa piit ni Kamatayan. Pilit syang pumipiglas Sa pira-pirasong tabla Nakaririndi ang tinig Hindi marunong kumalma. Tayo'y nilalang na may isip May katinuan Hindi kailangang pumiglas At panay ang laban. Minsan, kahinaa'y malalasap Ba't hindi huminto? Hindi ito pagsuko, kaibigan Ito'y paghihintay Paghihithit ng lakas Na kahit saglit Ang buhay ay mahingahang muli.
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Suffocated and Dehydrated
I was swimming in a sea Of balloons They were Ocean Blue & White I tried to hold on but Always slipping under The white would slip off the many blues And hit like a Feather Shaped Brick Many more would fall I tried to breath But the latex water Suffocating, Asphyxiating, Breathless, As each rolled off my face. I was in a ocean of Balloons, But they kept floating down Knocking the air from my lungs, I swam, I drifted, As the white wall faded Sinking to the bottom The weight too much, To float as the blue, I was swimming in balloons, Now floating face down Suffocated by the endless blue..
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Swimming In Balloons
MELANIN BEAUTY She was adorable in her coffee tinted skin Her beauty as rare as the clustering of dragonflies Amazing to look upon like the gathering of butterflies Through her eyes stars felt closer than ever Her lips was as beautiful as the opening of petals My heart paused when our eyes came in contact I felt like i have seen the queen of all that is beautiful The envy of every woman there is to be She was thin tall and adorned in elegance Endowed with charisma of an Ethiopian princess Her smile was first born Her beauty always suffocated the crowd   All i could see was the wonder of her skin I have fallen under the spell of this black queen She was a fragile treasure, the elixir of beauty She sparkled like she was kissed by the morning sun She was never satisfied with her perfection Trying to fix what GOD has personally certified Denting you to wear a skin that isn’t yours Like sharp sand i watched her beauty sink rapidly She was deep rooted in self-doubt of her skin pigment Not knowing the magnificence of her existence She never knew she was a gush of glamour Glorious to behold and graced with melanin Gradually she became high on inferiority complex She became lost in a world she was created to own Your beautiful brown body is a work of art Dipped in black gold and coated with brown sugar You define an indestructible uniqueness Your black skin is a badge of superiority Black is magical and above comparison Black complexion is the new religion .
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Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
MELANIN BEAUTY
Paperworks and all the lessons Sharpened my mind to behold more and more of that useless knowledge We would probably never use. Tests are bad enough. Marks at the corner teach us nothing but jealousy. The adults compare and judge as much as they want to And screamed and shouted cried and muttered. Exams are anything but better. You got stuck in a room Imprisoned by the tension. Suffocated by the hot headed determination to strive for the stars. Inhumanly high. This isn't hollywood movies Nothing like the literature essays 'how do we create tension' the subjects hold your fate but you did once told yourself 'I have no life' So what are we doing here? Wasting our days on something so terribly useless. Insignificant lectures when we know Accountants hated maths. Doctors hated biology. but they are who they are because of good results. They will realize no teachers like marking stupid homework. They hate the red crosses And so do we. Exams doesn't teach us how to be a good person. how to cope with beasty bullies.. how to survive on our own. It doesn't show any real talents nor your low (high) IQ It's just a pain in the **** You have to deal with before you became wrinkled, grey fuzzy and old.
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
What About Exams?
I put so much effort into random places, so much effort into random faces face it im faceless placeless drifting shifting thoughts towards destiny feeling empty, wondering whats left in me...? messages esoteric terrorize my rhetoric pedestrians staring glaring gazin gotta get a second look shook layers shed, fall from those ancient snakes left for dead suffocated, stranded damaged god ****** this sunless planet is madness immobilized try to find sense in a broke world what are hands without manipulation? and in life? death is a stipulation a fools gold is never within grasp so clasp delusions Grandiose with a toast to sham pain and champagne emptied grails course through mans veins oh to see what mirrors saw would reflections appear at all? peer into the endless ego see nothing but self libido we are all weary travelers, existences' eternal passengers remove masks, flasks, end the charade let serpents slither, and sun bath away from the shade embrace the end of nights push away the start of days just keep in mind which way             the pendulum sways
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
ancient snakes (masquerade)
We are the kids – beautiful blank canvasses ready to receive the joy of life. We are the kids – hope & love consuming our souls, grasping at the shiny & new. We are the kids who played in the fields and danced in the sun. We are the kids with innocence in our hearts and a cheekiness in our soul. We are the kids who believed in a benevolent God and the generous teachings of Jesus. We are the kids whose imagination was an infinite resource - bounteous, diverse and effervescent. We are the kids who reveled in the fancy, the nonsensical, the romantic and the wild. We are the kids that couldn’t wait to grow up, We are the kids who believed in our future. We are the kids who never saw it coming. We are the kids who lost our innocence as soon we walked through the big school gates for the 1st time. We are the kids who were told to “think of your future” and to suppress creativity. We are the kids who were forced to grow up very quickly. We are the kids who didn’t know we were “different” but there were plenty out there who did. We are the kids who had to pretend to be what “they” wanted us to be just to survive. We are the kids who came home with scars every day – both physical and emotional We are the kids who endured the obscene words of Neanderthal hate every single day. We are the kids who were screamed at by our parents to fight back even when we really didn’t have the capability to do so. We are the kids who were told crying was a sign of weakness. We are the kids whose so-called classmates stayed silent when they did their worst. We are the kids where the school gates were no barrier to their lynching. We are the kids who turned quickly from being wide-eyed & hopeful to being terrified & desolate. We are the kids who dreaded every single weekday from first term to last.   We are the kids who fruitlessly prayed to a God who had deserted them. We are the kids taught by teachers who were found wanting. We are the kids who suffocated in sheer hate. We are the kids who took our own lives or at least tried to. We are the kids who self-harmed. We are the kids who sometimes never came home. We are the kids who survived but never really left the school yard behind We are the kids. Your kids. June 11, 2018.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
We Are The Kids
We are the kids – beautiful blank canvasses ready to receive the joy of life. We are the kids – hope & love consuming our souls, grasping at the shiny & new. We are the kids who played in the fields and danced in the sun. We are the kids with innocence in our hearts and a cheekiness in our soul. We are the kids who believed in a benevolent God and the generous teachings of Jesus. We are the kids whose imagination was an infinite resource - bounteous, diverse and effervescent. We are the kids who reveled in the fancy, the nonsensical, the romantic and the wild. We are the kids that couldn’t wait to grow up, We are the kids who believed in our future. We are the kids who never saw it coming. We are the kids who lost our innocence as soon we walked through the big school gates for the 1st time. We are the kids who were told to “think of your future” and to suppress creativity. We are the kids who were forced to grow up very quickly. We are the kids who didn’t know we were “different” but there were plenty out there who did. We are the kids who had to pretend to be what “they” wanted us to be just to survive. We are the kids who came home with scars every day – both physical and emotional We are the kids who endured the obscene words of Neanderthal hate every single day. We are the kids who were screamed at by our parents to fight back even when we really didn’t have the capability to do so. We are the kids who were told crying was a sign of weakness. We are the kids whose so-called classmates stayed silent when they did their worst. We are the kids where the school gates were no barrier to their lynching. We are the kids who turned quickly from being wide-eyed & hopeful to being terrified & desolate. We are the kids who dreaded every single weekday from first term to last.   We are the kids who fruitlessly prayed to a God who had deserted them. We are the kids taught by teachers who were found wanting. We are the kids who suffocated in sheer hate. We are the kids who took our own lives or at least tried to. We are the kids who self-harmed. We are the kids who sometimes never came home. We are the kids who survived but never really left the school yard behind We are the kids. Your kids. June 11, 2018.
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Sparkling petals slice through feet of wanderers Dashing hopes and slitting tendons Each day she visits Sprinkling books and soda-filled sponges among the wire vines. The sizzles excited her And she smiles in spite of her sizzling feet Pleased in her harmless sabotage. The suffocated earth shutters beneath Layers of circuit boards, damp and rotting Steam rises from the core And crinkles the pages of Jane Austen Dr. Seuss Kurt Vonnegut. Her mother’s journal from pregnancy.
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
Outlet Garden
Watching the colour drain out of someone’s face, like ice cubes melting shades out of your coffee. Branches falling off your favourite tree, foreshadowing its winter death, but you pretend you don’t know. Watching someone you love fall over the same step each time, like they see a ghost every time they turn left, so they keep turning left, And they scream “Why is it always going wrong?” Watching your brother beat himself black and blue, like the kids used to do at school, And now all he recognizes is his beaten back and bleeding knuckles, but he is so much more than the pain he holds in his hands. I’ve been watching you break bridges with your voice since I was a child. I’ve been watching you use fists to communicate since I was a child. I’ve been watching you self-medicate since I was a child. I learned from the best, don’t you see? Watching you love a woman made me angry, maybe I knew all along she’d only leave a knife in your back, after you stabbed her in the front. At least she saw you coming right? Watching you break down made me fall apart, maybe I was hoping I’d become strong, but watching you suffer felt like being suffocated. Yet you were the only one suffocating. Watching you not exist in my life the way you used to took a part of me away. It’ll never be the same again. Do you remember all the days we spent doing nothing, but doing nothing together? I felt so alive. I’m watching myself search for you in everyone I meet, just to get some pieces of you back. I’m watching myself run away from the person you are, but I’ve been stuck in quicksand since you left. I’m watching myself drown as I realize how quickly life changes, and how quickly it ends.
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Rock
Watching the colour drain out of someone’s face, like ice cubes melting shades out of your coffee. Branches falling off your favourite tree, foreshadowing its winter death, but you pretend you don’t know. Watching someone you love fall over the same step each time, like they see a ghost every time they turn left, so they keep turning left, And they scream “Why is it always going wrong?” Watching your brother beat himself black and blue, like the kids used to do at school, And now all he recognizes is his beaten back and bleeding knuckles, but he is so much more than the pain he holds in his hands. I’ve been watching you break bridges with your voice since I was a child. I’ve been watching you use fists to communicate since I was a child. I’ve been watching you self-medicate since I was a child. I learned from the best, don’t you see? Watching you love a woman made me angry, maybe I knew all along she’d only leave a knife in your back, after you stabbed her in the front. At least she saw you coming right? Watching you break down made me fall apart, maybe I was hoping I’d become strong, but watching you suffer felt like being suffocated. Yet you were the only one suffocating. Watching you not exist in my life the way you used to took a part of me away. It’ll never be the same again. Do you remember all the days we spent doing nothing, but doing nothing together? I felt so alive. I’m watching myself search for you in everyone I meet, just to get some pieces of you back. I’m watching myself run away from the person you are, but I’ve been stuck in quicksand since you left. I’m watching myself drown as I realize how quickly life changes, and how quickly it ends.
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37
Two were suffocated One stabbed Four drowned Three broken neck. A massive shock for her, articulated. 10 were over None are forgotten, 7 irrelevant but 3 where all 3. She was asked to portray all these in a pie chart. While he was eating a blueberry pie.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Bluesberry Pie
I feel suffocated talking to lots of people, I feel so lonely in every parties I attended, I can not stand the crowds all time, I feel scared about their thoughts on me, yet, why, Do I feel so secure expressing myself in verses and lines, Voicing every pieces of my thoughts and story, To the people I never met face-to-face, And gladly accept any critiques to my words...
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Introvert
During my manic episodes, you found me fun, fervent, even amazing. You told me that you wouldn’t trade my love for anything. You told me that I made the butterflies dance in your stomach, and made the demons disappear in your head. With every “I love you,” there was a smirk and a kiss. You told me that I was one of a kind and you’d be there for me no matter what because you couldn’t imagine living without me. After my first bad episode, you started telling me that my love was overbearing and you needed space. You told me that you felt suffocated and I was like a child craving attention from their mother. You told me I was too repetitive and you just wanted to go get high. Every time I said “I love you” you looked at me, shrugged, and said “me too.” I asked you what happened to “forever” and you said only sane girls keep their prince. You acted as if I got to pick and choose what disorder I wanted. As if being bipolar was a luxury I wasn’t taking advantage of. When you got sent to a mental institution for attempting suicide, I searched for you for six hours until your mom told me where you were. After you returned, I helped you find yourself again and lost myself in the process. I sacrificed everything for your well-being, and you had no interest in mine. You made me believe that being bipolar made you a terrible person, but then I looked at you with tearful eyes, and got a peek at what terrible really is. Thanks to you, I know who I am.
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Bipolar Disorder and "Princes" Don't Mix
During my manic episodes, you found me fun, fervent, even amazing. You told me that you wouldn’t trade my love for anything. You told me that I made the butterflies dance in your stomach, and made the demons disappear in your head. With every “I love you,” there was a smirk and a kiss. You told me that I was one of a kind and you’d be there for me no matter what because you couldn’t imagine living without me. After my first bad episode, you started telling me that my love was overbearing and you needed space. You told me that you felt suffocated and I was like a child craving attention from their mother. You told me I was too repetitive and you just wanted to go get high. Every time I said “I love you” you looked at me, shrugged, and said “me too.” I asked you what happened to “forever” and you said only sane girls keep their prince. You acted as if I got to pick and choose what disorder I wanted. As if being bipolar was a luxury I wasn’t taking advantage of. When you got sent to a mental institution for attempting suicide, I searched for you for six hours until your mom told me where you were. After you returned, I helped you find yourself again and lost myself in the process. I sacrificed everything for your well-being, and you had no interest in mine. You made me believe that being bipolar made you a terrible person, but then I looked at you with tearful eyes, and got a peek at what terrible really is. Thanks to you, I know who I am.
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19
I'm suffocated By all of the chances I've given you And I'm drowning In all of their failures By Chloe Elizabeth
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Suffocated and Still Drowning
One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age. She recovered. She forgot and proceeded. One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage. She clawed her way out of the spiral. One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved. One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again. She was suffocated yet high. One thread was singed by **** She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present. She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.
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Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC
Shreds of She
You took my breath away, but not in a good way.   Loving you was like breathing without oxygen; impossible. Yet I tried anyways, and suffocated.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Love is impossible without air
Distressed tears trickle down a face soiled with dolor Flooding a pillow with painful memories drowning every being of hope Swallowing love in a black hole Only to be thrown back up As a wreckage of confused emotion A sponge soaking up all my ambition Leaving pessimistic thoughts to fill the cold void where there is only an echo of happiness My already cracked spirits are fatigued Sharply cutting through my mind where affection is suffocated And lust is left gasping for air My insecurities seek acceptance Confiding in the cushion that holds every tear It welcomes my troubles And shuns my dreams I am a lost soul If only I could abide behind a fortress that protects my heart only then will my tears cease
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Crying in my Pillow
Droplets tap the dusty windows Tipping pleasure on the pane Dribbles every time the wind blows Prophesize a hurricane Kisses linger on the backseat Desperate to delight in more Suffocated by the heat, but When it rains, it starts to pour Panic storm that quickly closes Smashing waves upon the sand Tension tearing up the roses Stuttered poems, shaking hands Though the pressure keeps you floating And the ocean licks its shore There's no way of sugarcoating Once it rains, it has to pour Stick a finger in your ceiling Let the plants hang onto youth Sunday jazz, petrichor feeling Hear it tripping on the roof Smell it shifting all around you Leaking through your drying veins Leave your stagnant dragonfly blue Open up into the rain When it rains, it pours I'll blossom being yours Downpour cleans the ***** traffic Rippling madly down the drain Paints the artist something graphic While he's waiting for the train Laughter echoes in the morning Licking soil and clouds to raw From the vision that's been dawning Once you rain, it has to pour Spitting bombshells pelt your raincoat Tears in quiet pools of green Holes inside your getaway boat Water's sweet but can be mean You've avoided all the warfare But the stars rampage for more Douse the thin comfort you still wear Once it rains, it starts to pour Stick a finger in your ceiling Give the plants a thirsty truth Fairy lights and freedom feeling Tunes of our torrential youth Smell it changing all around you Bursting through the shrivelled veins Leave your crippled summertime hue Open up into the rain When it rains, it pours, I'll bloom so much being yours We're a perfect storm, I guess Fire has been stopped with less When it rains it has to pour.
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Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
When it rains, it pours
Droplets tap the dusty windows Tipping pleasure on the pane Dribbles every time the wind blows Prophesize a hurricane Kisses linger on the backseat Desperate to delight in more Suffocated by the heat, but When it rains, it starts to pour Panic storm that quickly closes Smashing waves upon the sand Tension tearing up the roses Stuttered poems, shaking hands Though the pressure keeps you floating And the ocean licks its shore There's no way of sugarcoating Once it rains, it has to pour Stick a finger in your ceiling Let the plants hang onto youth Sunday jazz, petrichor feeling Hear it tripping on the roof Smell it shifting all around you Leaking through your drying veins Leave your stagnant dragonfly blue Open up into the rain When it rains, it pours I'll blossom being yours Downpour cleans the ***** traffic Rippling madly down the drain Paints the artist something graphic While he's waiting for the train Laughter echoes in the morning Licking soil and clouds to raw From the vision that's been dawning Once you rain, it has to pour Spitting bombshells pelt your raincoat Tears in quiet pools of green Holes inside your getaway boat Water's sweet but can be mean You've avoided all the warfare But the stars rampage for more Douse the thin comfort you still wear Once it rains, it starts to pour Stick a finger in your ceiling Give the plants a thirsty truth Fairy lights and freedom feeling Tunes of our torrential youth Smell it changing all around you Bursting through the shrivelled veins Leave your crippled summertime hue Open up into the rain When it rains, it pours, I'll bloom so much being yours We're a perfect storm, I guess Fire has been stopped with less When it rains it has to pour.
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55
We're in hell Can't you tell? No you can't You only listen to the teller All other voices are drowned Because he's a yeller For the useless things we're bound That fill up our cellar And our living room turns into a dying room When the seller is the jailer And salvation comes from tailors Who can cover up the pain inside With all the comfy clothes we buy Money is the blood of our society It's circulation provides oxygen But we spill money into spilling blood And we're funneled into killing love So we can concern ourselves With people not getting things they don't deserve Rather than people getting what they need Our blood starts clotting In the fortunate arteries As the rest of our body goes numb It seeks medicine for healing And drugs become our autoimmune disease Redistributing blood to the suffocated areas An unfortunate recompensing for injustice When the persecutors Become the prosecuted Lives are exploded Like Afghan villages Lives can grow back Like poppy fields That's the score And it makes me want to score Until ****** drips from every pore And ******* fills me to the core I could just live at the liquor store Where benzos are my father And **** my mother So I can ignore the death of my brother My family is in trouble Our society is in rubble
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Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Medicine
HERE IS WISHING EVERY INDIAN A HAPPY DIWALI On a dark no-moon day, comes Diwali. Sing children joyfully, "aali re aali, Diwali aali". Tiny lamps, make this dark no-moon night bright. Indeed this is a beautiful, eye-pleasing sight. Children, I know, crackers you love to burst. But kindly a minute spare, n listen to me first. Minutes few of fun, cause problems very big n grave. People many, suffocated feel; n pollution we pave. Frighten we, little babies n of course, dogs too. In future, about our actions insane, we will rue. Celebrate let us Diwali, with beautiful, colourful Rangolis n lights. Share sweets special; homemade n healthy. Helping moms to them make, even if you are wealthy. Let's a portion small of these goodies, with the less fortunate share. Prove let us to ourselves, that we really n truly care. Armin Dutia Motashaw
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Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
Happy Diwali
Do you know what makes us great!? Do you know the delphian feeling!? I have walked on the sun and slept on the moon Letting out my own flares Creating my own current We have been burnt and suffocated Leaving ash in our wake Multitude, overflowing; adrift, washing away Do you know what makes us great!? The ability the see the lights potential and make it shine seen through all the sky’s as a dying star We are capable Yet we long for more Do you know the delphian feeling!? Our ability to achieve and go beyond, encouraging greed, deception, betrayal The Light!! A two headed sword Cementing history Creating mystery Certify Victory The light beautiful and bright Yet dark and mysterious. Rex Verum Regem TFK
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
Delphian
You were a warm, weighted blanket, You comforted me when I was alone. You made me feel safe and well, You quickly became my home. Your embrace was warm and welcoming, But soon became too hot. I tried to kick you off of me, I fought with all I’ve got. Your hold was now too tight, Sometimes I couldn’t breathe. I swore I’d never touch you again, But I’m truth, I couldn’t leave. You were all I never wanted, This thing, sewn to my bed, But I couldn’t ask a soul for help, So I clung to you instead. People soon began to worry, If I was doing alright. I missed work, events, and meals, Just to sleep with you at night. I thought that I could manage you, That I could pick and choose… “An evening here, an evening there” But it’s a game that I would lose. One night you suffocated me, Made me sleep for “one last time”. But someone cut you off of me, And brought me back to life. I really thought I loved you, But I should have known better. I should have known you’d almost **** me… I should have bought a sweater.
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Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 8:55 PM UTC
A Warm Blanket
i think how we need to be loved as adults stems from our childhood (or lack thereof). if you were abandoned, you need to be smothered, to know every second that you're adored. but as a child you were always alone, so the very love you crave makes you feel suffocated and crawling white knuckled to get out. and so this war rages inside of us, until we have exhausted ourselves & perhaps those who were brave enough to extend their hands. ©raine cooper
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Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
love
How horrible it was to wake up to your cries for help. I came to find you had fallen, your oxygen disconnected, the clear tubes lying in a tangle on your bedroom floor. At first, you had been conscious, your beautiful brown eyes looked up at me pleadingly, and then you were gone. I was alone and terrified, having dealt with this before I couldn’t say it was anything new, but this time was different than the script of past events. Wishing I could escape like a bird in flight, I knew I had no power to save you, The harsh truth of my reality suffocated me. My walls closing in as I realized what was happening in this moment. Prior to this, you had always made it to the hospital alright, arguing with paramedics, but this time, you were motionless and cold. I’ll never forget the blue stillness of your lips, or the way the light left your eyes as you departed the material world and finally found peace in eternal rest.
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Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
Elegy for My Mother
Love should not be possessive. Love like you would a flower, growing in a field. If you were to pluck that flower, take it inside, to place in a vase or between the pages of a book, it will wither and it will die. Suffocated, cut off from that place which it is meant to be. Instead, lay next to your love. Let your breath be the wind that brushes against its petals. In a storm, build a fortress to protect it, to shade it from the sun. Sing songs to it until you fall asleep, where you dream beside it. If you part, have no fear. Relish the moments in which that Love is beside you. Do not entertain thoughts of another coming and plucking that flower, you have no control over such things. Live beside that which you Love, possession will only bring death. No one can take your love. If in the morning that flower is no longer there, fear nothing, as you too will one day be gone. The more we love, the more we want to hold on. Let go of the idea of permanence. Everything is ever changing. The seasons, the tides, they come and they go. Move within them. Hold that Love deep inside, like a heartbeat. Fear of loss is ever gnawing. Let go of fear by letting go of the idea of possession. All that you own is that which beats within you, silent and voluminous. All else is an illusion. When you look across the room at her, do so as you would a flower. Appreciate and enjoy, do not let the tendrils of fear wrap themselves around you. Do not reach out and take what is not yours, do not ask for anything in return. Open up your heart, let the sunshine pour from your eyes. Before you know it, these moments will be memories. This life will be another grain of sand on an endless beach. your story will be lost on the winds of spring.
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Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
love like a flower
Love should not be possessive. Love like you would a flower, growing in a field. If you were to pluck that flower, take it inside, to place in a vase or between the pages of a book, it will wither and it will die. Suffocated, cut off from that place which it is meant to be. Instead, lay next to your love. Let your breath be the wind that brushes against its petals. In a storm, build a fortress to protect it, to shade it from the sun. Sing songs to it until you fall asleep, where you dream beside it. If you part, have no fear. Relish the moments in which that Love is beside you. Do not entertain thoughts of another coming and plucking that flower, you have no control over such things. Live beside that which you Love, possession will only bring death. No one can take your love. If in the morning that flower is no longer there, fear nothing, as you too will one day be gone. The more we love, the more we want to hold on. Let go of the idea of permanence. Everything is ever changing. The seasons, the tides, they come and they go. Move within them. Hold that Love deep inside, like a heartbeat. Fear of loss is ever gnawing. Let go of fear by letting go of the idea of possession. All that you own is that which beats within you, silent and voluminous. All else is an illusion. When you look across the room at her, do so as you would a flower. Appreciate and enjoy, do not let the tendrils of fear wrap themselves around you. Do not reach out and take what is not yours, do not ask for anything in return. Open up your heart, let the sunshine pour from your eyes. Before you know it, these moments will be memories. This life will be another grain of sand on an endless beach. your story will be lost on the winds of spring.
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