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"sympathise" poems
Syria oh Syria why do you bleed? Brother fights brother without thought or need Ruled by a tyrant for so many years And now the spilt blood is washed away by tears Democracy by debate you tried and you failed Now the wives and mothers they cry and they wail Democracy now sought at the point of a gun Your country in turmoil, lives being undone I sympathise and weep at your terrible plight Your people are dying, no end in sight Can man ever undo the chaos he's wrought? Going to war without reason or thought Syria oh Syria your bloods being drained By those who would seek political gain When the killing is done will you be better off? Is what you might gain worth all the loss? Your economy gone so how will you live? The worlds in recession, no money to give Families destroyed and homes are no more All destroyed by a political war
0
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
SYRIA
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real I am forced to accept these "realities" and ignore the way I feel I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate, For a decade I find that this is how I communicate The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being' My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say I have been observing your mundane human actions, I really don't want to be put away I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place But because I'm "considerate," I have to bite my tongue to save me some face I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest "I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit. The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a **** Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers' I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith. I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
0
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
Fornicate (for Mental Health Awareness Day 2018)
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real I am forced to accept these "realities" and ignore the way I feel I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate, For a decade I find that this is how I communicate The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being' My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say I have been observing your mundane human actions, I really don't want to be put away I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place But because I'm "considerate," I have to bite my tongue to save me some face I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest "I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit. The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a **** Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers' I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith. I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
Continue reading...
36
It was one of those mornings where you peer out your bottom floor window, and look up at the raindrops freshly fallen. You feel broken, and yet rushed with an unexplainable emotion. but you know it’s a good one simply with a bad aftertaste. You see people everyday, no, you stare at them. You wish for relationships you once had. Others you wish you could hold, and those you could never give up. Have you ever heard the saying about faking a smile? It’s an understatement. It’s not sadness, or anger really, just pain. It doesn't start out as pain, it just evolves, over time. The madness results in Emotionally caused Physical pain. The pain doesn't hurt, it just...sits. This emotion that we've nicknamed pain, rushes through the body, Arms numbs, legs shaking, eyes holding back, everything. It’s all caused from sight, with a drop of longing. You see this person everyday. You long for the same people every single day. And your body just longs for them. It’s not as lustful as it sounds. You just possess an attraction to these people. An attraction that even the most specific and descriptive of words could not describe. You sit there and you are bound by society’s lock on intermingling. You are bound by the mock and disgust of others. You are bound by that person of which you desire. You are bound simply by yourself. All this. All of this Emotion, if you will, was bound in that little drop that clings to the window. That was but a drop of what I feel every single day. You can’t imagine but don't let me sound as if I am exaggerating. For I am not. I have felt wonderful things. Things I am not sure most of you have felt. Though I wish you could. I wish I could place my hand on your chest I wish that all of that energy, that emotion, would flow into you and then back into me. I could look into your eyes, and I would know, that you know, how I feel. You could understand everything. You could sympathise. but the fact of the matter is, you simply can’t. I do not believe you have felt what I have felt too, no. Different version and variations, yes. But this feeling of impossibility, I know you have not felt. You are common rebel, this is not bad, no not at all, you have more opportunities to release this emotion than I ever will. And i envy you. All of you. Every Last one. You look away from the rain drops. You go back to living. You go back to hiding. You go back to solitude. Yeah, it was just one of those mornings I guess.
0
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
It was one of those Mornings...
It was one of those mornings where you peer out your bottom floor window, and look up at the raindrops freshly fallen. You feel broken, and yet rushed with an unexplainable emotion. but you know it’s a good one simply with a bad aftertaste. You see people everyday, no, you stare at them. You wish for relationships you once had. Others you wish you could hold, and those you could never give up. Have you ever heard the saying about faking a smile? It’s an understatement. It’s not sadness, or anger really, just pain. It doesn't start out as pain, it just evolves, over time. The madness results in Emotionally caused Physical pain. The pain doesn't hurt, it just...sits. This emotion that we've nicknamed pain, rushes through the body, Arms numbs, legs shaking, eyes holding back, everything. It’s all caused from sight, with a drop of longing. You see this person everyday. You long for the same people every single day. And your body just longs for them. It’s not as lustful as it sounds. You just possess an attraction to these people. An attraction that even the most specific and descriptive of words could not describe. You sit there and you are bound by society’s lock on intermingling. You are bound by the mock and disgust of others. You are bound by that person of which you desire. You are bound simply by yourself. All this. All of this Emotion, if you will, was bound in that little drop that clings to the window. That was but a drop of what I feel every single day. You can’t imagine but don't let me sound as if I am exaggerating. For I am not. I have felt wonderful things. Things I am not sure most of you have felt. Though I wish you could. I wish I could place my hand on your chest I wish that all of that energy, that emotion, would flow into you and then back into me. I could look into your eyes, and I would know, that you know, how I feel. You could understand everything. You could sympathise. but the fact of the matter is, you simply can’t. I do not believe you have felt what I have felt too, no. Different version and variations, yes. But this feeling of impossibility, I know you have not felt. You are common rebel, this is not bad, no not at all, you have more opportunities to release this emotion than I ever will. And i envy you. All of you. Every Last one. You look away from the rain drops. You go back to living. You go back to hiding. You go back to solitude. Yeah, it was just one of those mornings I guess.
Continue reading...
56
I went into this with eyes and thighs wide open. I cannot sanitise my position My legs astride Your waist. I cannot analyse our predicament I sympathise truly With her. But, this affair started together both to blame no shame. I'm beautified by your attention Call it love I'm mystified. I only know I cannot I will not Give up. I'm sorry that you're married as am I that's life. Or is it oversimplified lust? just never leave I'd vaporise. But, before we go back to our partners glide inside. Again.
0
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Eyes wide open
*I open the cupboard under the stairs, fetching my bag from its hiding place. It waits, So patiently, for me to name the day; the day I leave for good, and today, is that day. I check the contents, just to make sure, all is in order. I open the front door, applying pressure, as I cautiously pull. My face is contorted with concentration; squinted eyes; clenched teeth. It must not make a noise. It cannot make a noise. please, don’t make a noise. I’m outside. This is it… I stand. I think. I muse the future. What will they think, of me? Will they understand? Will they sympathise? Or will they view me as… A symbolic abomination? The personification of, cowardice? A father, who didn’t care? I open the cupboard under the stairs, hiding my travel bag in the same place. Once more I return. Once more I indulge the monotony, once more… Just once more.*
0
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
Under The Stairs.
*Your lips churned lies you choked on so I cannot sympathise. Sweep up your bones and lift them as a sign of your demise.*
0
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
THE PETTY POEM
Looking back on pictures I find it had to see Myself in places Where I used to be Long hair tied Away from my eyes A curvy figure leading To shapely thighs Boys can wear pink Girls can wear blue The reaction Is up to you Why can’t people Just let them be them Let boys be girls Let girls be men I want to sympathise I want to cry This body I’m in Feeling like I have to hide I am a boy so don’t call me she I’m not your sister Or your niece My pronoun is quite clearly HE!
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May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC
Troubled
Does she know her profound effect, on two lowly rejects or is she luminescent from some mutual recompense and how do you feel when the exhilaration has faded? 'Secret gratification, I see you behind the blind, pacing ************ for the girl above your station It's grating how you feel so humiliated When you spot me in my lounge, amused by the situation' It's a mad sporadic dash to end, how long will she stand It's a repressed trend but furthermore it soon wanes and we're all left motionless, unbridled and insane You, ****** master of disguise Beautiful young girl, pale blue eyes Me, misanthrope, full of despise Cars on the street, I hear the cries Human nature is strong, I sympathise But in broad daylight, can you truly say this is wise?
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
Schaulust and Democracy are Embroiled in the Eternal Battle
It seems, your tears filled up your bowl. It seems, that, your mouth, your teeth, they chewed till they were sweets. It seems that, your.... I can't do it. Couldn't sympathise so well. I am confused, and I am so broken. I am breaking. I feel so dead. I feel like, I...I can't...do that...or this...or them... I have so many things. "I am holding on..too tightly to certain things..." I am scared and frightend. I am lost. Feel forgotten. I can't seem to breathe. I am so tired. Of....me. Of myself. This body, this heart, my enemies. . Oh, how I hope I can be separated from them. I didn't get enough sleep last night again. I didn't.... I cant. My fingers they are sliding across the keyboard, just trying to catch up the wild thoughts of my mind, and I stop, broken. I want to rest, but I would be lazy. I want to stop and think, but that's just procrastinating. I.... I can't. Sorry, 12258 Sorry God. Sorry Mother and Father. Sorry sister. Sorry. To myself. "Congrats you failed. Yes you." I said. Pointing to the mirror.
0
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC
Hi me.
you could start fires with the charcoal under my eyes and i am so tired of telling people i’m tired i’m exhausted i barely get 3 hours of sleep my mind is tangled with cobwebs that only seem to need dusting at night i lay awake listening to the creaks of old aged furniture and i sympathise i know how that feels, buddy my joints creak and they’re crisp as autumn leaves i am surprised i haven’t broken any alarm sounds at either 8 or 9 day starts an hour later day continues day persists until evening lets it rest evening continues until their shift is over and night falls i’m so tired that my body has grown accustomed to it i watch the time change and the clock tick; i am so accustomed to it my heart has started following the same rhythm night fell a boulder on sunken shoulders it is still falling and i am trying to carry such heavy weight i think this is why our backs begin to curve as we grow older we are crushed and crippled does the sun still rise even if i don’t see it? because all i ever seem to see is the darkness of night fall; i wonder who can love a clockwork heart? tick, tock. who can love a cobwebbed mind? time to go and dust again.
0
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
"i'm ok i'm just tired"
You walk a lonely path old man but now and then you show us you're alive And maybe when you've had a few you'll shed a sorry tear or two. That's fine. But if you really must insist on dredging up this **** Each and every time. As each new fact's learned don't mistake horror for concern. Cos it's a lie. I'm happy. My eyes are dry. I can't feel pity looking in your killer's eyes. So chin up son, don't you cry. The things you did were unforgivable and I'll never sympathise. Lying just beneath the skin there hides a multitude of sins That wait For a ear that doesn't sneer or recoil sickened Cos they can't relate. Seize any opportunity; for you've so many agonies to share, To unload your woes but that cross you built is yours alone to bear. Each sacred tet-a-tet where you might vocalise regrets makes you renewed, But don't forget that as they peer at you it's one-way glass their peering through. You look through misty eyes - your little heart is opened wide, but their's are shut. They can't return your gaze of hopelessness and shame, They've heard enough. If I thought there was an afterlife I'd be concerned for what's coming your way And whilst I don't believe in evil You and him came pretty close I'd say You can repent until your spent or Flagellate your sorry self to death. But if your just trying ro tell the world your sorry Well, you can save your breath. Leave flowers on his grave and promise that you'll never misbehave again Curse the wicked heart god gave you - If you had the chance you do it all the same. Mount another charm offensive Show them all the side they think you lack But know that no amount of Humility will ever bring him back.
0
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Save Your Breath
You walk a lonely path old man but now and then you show us you're alive And maybe when you've had a few you'll shed a sorry tear or two. That's fine. But if you really must insist on dredging up this **** Each and every time. As each new fact's learned don't mistake horror for concern. Cos it's a lie. I'm happy. My eyes are dry. I can't feel pity looking in your killer's eyes. So chin up son, don't you cry. The things you did were unforgivable and I'll never sympathise. Lying just beneath the skin there hides a multitude of sins That wait For a ear that doesn't sneer or recoil sickened Cos they can't relate. Seize any opportunity; for you've so many agonies to share, To unload your woes but that cross you built is yours alone to bear. Each sacred tet-a-tet where you might vocalise regrets makes you renewed, But don't forget that as they peer at you it's one-way glass their peering through. You look through misty eyes - your little heart is opened wide, but their's are shut. They can't return your gaze of hopelessness and shame, They've heard enough. If I thought there was an afterlife I'd be concerned for what's coming your way And whilst I don't believe in evil You and him came pretty close I'd say You can repent until your spent or Flagellate your sorry self to death. But if your just trying ro tell the world your sorry Well, you can save your breath. Leave flowers on his grave and promise that you'll never misbehave again Curse the wicked heart god gave you - If you had the chance you do it all the same. Mount another charm offensive Show them all the side they think you lack But know that no amount of Humility will ever bring him back.
Continue reading...
44
You're always asking me why I keep the receipts From every place we visit even if it's only a Quick pit-stop at the Safeway where you used to work, And I won't tell you why because you'd laugh At me and remind me how silly romance is Because I know you found that movie ticket with The blue eyes sketched between the price and the Title. And I know that you tossed it out the window telling Me that the cute ticket officer's eyes were brown, not The same colour as the stormy oceans I see Crashing below your eyelashes on the nights when you Won't tell me what your father said to you and that I Found out from your brother that your grandmother died The same day that you met me and that's why You won't talk about her even though you know I can sympathise. You always ask me why I write down your angry Words but I can't tell you that it's because it's those Moments when I know you're the most bare, even when We're naked.  And I also know the reasons why After we finish, you always hide beneath the sheet As though you're afraid I'll see the crescent-moon Scar on your left hip that you will never tell me What it's from. I guess we all have reasons for our secrets but Why would the world keep spinning in its unsung persistence If we knew everything about it?
0
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
Race Car
it's 11:11pm where sorrowful low spirits cry sanguine prays to the other side of the sky the galaxy listens maybe a little too closely the cold atmosphere holds many's outbursts collecting agony and desires one too many wishes for the young stars to bear. but listen to our ambition, observe our devotion, sympathise our situation. scrutinise the inclination of our appetite. it's 11:11pm it's a galactic duty for the baby stars, not for too long. because nobody likes waiting. so create that miracle of ours and f a l l
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Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
galactic photosynthesis
Though he counted himself brave, she saw teardrops rolling down his eyes that could be interpreted in many ways perhaps on the plight of human life in this planet, makes him sympathise. "Brave heart, don't grieve" he heard her whisper, "Don't see life merely as a balance sheet of profit and loss, just in terms of money. It's a system human mind created for mere transaction of commodities, emotions clothed in flesh and blood, you are ideas too, that have mind and limbs, that touches lives, moves the world, you can't walk in the reverse, Never. Be what you were once, you've made history as well as mistakes, as a tree you've borne fruits propagated your seeds, satiated the demands, and alas, littered the surroundings with dead leaves and rotten fruits, that stink. **"Brave heart, nothing is perfect, nothing lasts, it's within the complex cosmic design, that's all"**
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
All within the cosmic plan of things
I take deep breaths And plan a ****** To **** the bird that flew Over the crow's nest On a summer night I feel the warmth Of the day not yet done The sound of laughter Is all around me This is cool- I say I find myself lying on a surgery table Holding an apple in my hand I throw it against the floor And landing there It bursts into a million Children of my mind Spreading into every Country on the planet I am the new master As my children grow and grow Still in rags I speak And throw my thoughts into a bin Their work is finished you see Still the sound of laughter Carries on around me Living is easy With your head In the clouds I saw- and still I hear The giggles and noises Of delightful romances being Born These should be mine But they are not mine Such things are little more than Mist or whispers Promises not yet realised My children sympathise And bringing me a woman To sit with me in the tall grass Together we shall Plan a life instead
0
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
PORTRAIT OF THE POET AS A FRUIT CAKE
let them be heard from beyond the grave, let them tell the stories of everyone ravished and burned buried alongside the evils the ignorant and privileged threw six feet below this blood-soiled land while the fool who granted himself the glory, the honor, the memory that will never be rightfully his, lies peacefully in a sacred place do not silence them if they shake the streets with rage do not shame them if they burn the metro with blinding fury this is the least we can do, we cannot simply contain the memory of every homes extinguished into grey smoke, of every dungeons that turned into homes, of every child that only had hunger and violence for teachers rather than their parents, of every girl that was marked against her will, of every iron fist that instilled fear, of every every bullet fired onwards from that day of the humanity that ceased to be let the people fight for the yesteryears, let it be known that the deeds of the devil will never be forgotten let it be heard that for as long as we draw breath, he will be condemned back to hell,he will pay for his crimes and along with him are those that do not speak their minds, that choose to remain foolishly blind, that do not sympathise, let them all be reminded: history cannot be changed, only remembered and if bound to be repeated, will be fought like hell because the Filipino may fall but never bend, may falter but never break, may stand in front of the edge, but with crimson-soaked cheeks and wounded fists, we will take with us to the death, our oath: never forget. --W
0
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
september 21st
let them be heard from beyond the grave, let them tell the stories of everyone ravished and burned buried alongside the evils the ignorant and privileged threw six feet below this blood-soiled land while the fool who granted himself the glory, the honor, the memory that will never be rightfully his, lies peacefully in a sacred place do not silence them if they shake the streets with rage do not shame them if they burn the metro with blinding fury this is the least we can do, we cannot simply contain the memory of every homes extinguished into grey smoke, of every dungeons that turned into homes, of every child that only had hunger and violence for teachers rather than their parents, of every girl that was marked against her will, of every iron fist that instilled fear, of every every bullet fired onwards from that day of the humanity that ceased to be let the people fight for the yesteryears, let it be known that the deeds of the devil will never be forgotten let it be heard that for as long as we draw breath, he will be condemned back to hell,he will pay for his crimes and along with him are those that do not speak their minds, that choose to remain foolishly blind, that do not sympathise, let them all be reminded: history cannot be changed, only remembered and if bound to be repeated, will be fought like hell because the Filipino may fall but never bend, may falter but never break, may stand in front of the edge, but with crimson-soaked cheeks and wounded fists, we will take with us to the death, our oath: never forget. --W
Continue reading...
30
Reality hits me And it ******* kills me No, please don't say That you understand The physical pain Is sickening, oh Why can't I be seen For what I really am? Well, the thing is That I actually commit To the harmless **** That I care about Unlike the others That don't seem to care They quit, cancel, flit I can't help but think that it's unfair Don't you miss me Don't you notice my absence Don't you care That I'm not there? I hate the crowds They misconceive how I express myself When I'm just the same as everyone else Or am I? Who the **** cares? Let me be who I want to be Let me do something satisfactory No, you don't understand I'm sorry but it's true You can't sympathise with me When you don't have a clue...
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Reality
I'm a different kind of lonely when you're not here When everything I touch seems to miss you too And we all just sit around in our collective grief Books aren't supposed to miss people My guess is that if books had feelings at all Then really they would just want someone to pick Them up and hold them I can sympathise with books If doors could talk they wouldn't ask where the Hell we'd been when we got home late They'd say that they just want to keep us safe and Maybe try to keep out the cold I wish I was still your door My windows don't miss the times when you'd Stand with one delicate hand on the glass and gaze Outside in some quiet reflection Unaware that I could see your reflection in the glass and was Wondering, Desperately trying to conclude How biology, chemistry and physics Could possibly have combined to create something So terrifyingly beautiful.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
Collective Grief
continuously surpassing I know my obligations to some this may be considered trespassing I empathise to the point where I almost idolise your fragility and I sympathise almost to the point where I would follow if you chose to leave
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Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Emphatic Sympathy
Wore the flattest shoes tonight So I don't foolishly tumble Adored the comfiest XL size For if my chest begins to crumble The white noise shot-out, let's run now In the oversized grey tshirt, all is numb now "Do you want? Need? Like? SAY something!" I can ******* scream but now I barely mumble Don't sympathise, I do that just fine for me Hold back or let me go, either way you can't see Shadows of the noise that I can't shake when I am still So I run and I run, until it's a distant melody
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
Fencing
We all know that history repeats itself And when you finally face defeat, it's hell The torture one has no choice but to go through Free seats to a painful ordeal, Row 2 I don't think you have ANY idea how it feels When your state of mind just surrenders and kneels It's agonising, you just wanna release what you hold inside The feeling stays, it will never roll or slide What's going on is the truth that you can't deny All I can do now is just rant and cry And that's what this is, but do not sympathise There's the indisputable fact that I was victimised I was taken for an idiot, I guess I just realised.
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Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
Yeah
is such an ugly word. It's ******       gory       heart tearing. People think they can                                        understand                                        sympathise                                  relate on some level. That's what I thought- but you simply                            CAN'T. The depth of emotion for such a blatant mi                  ra                 cle is stronger than you could imagine. And then it's               taken               away. Against a door on your knees doubled over throat hoarse eyes swollen tear tracks skin under nails scratches down face.
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Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
Miscarriage
ain't nothing worth this **** we all know it's all toughness and darkness We'll get through this she'll be right mate but it ain't pretty, or sweet We are just dirt beneath feet that walk upon us, not noticing the exhaled breath from us pushed out by trampling masses trying to find the Finish line You may want to own it but I'll never claim it as mine! I'll stand holding the ribbon that drops at your feet but, Sorry you didn't come First that is reserved for the ones who were trampled beneath your over eager heartbeat ***** this life, if it's just a race don't ever make eye contact with a sad face, their tears may make you cry their empathy will never run dry but you will never understand why moisture leaks from your eyes here is some recycled paper just dry your stupid sigh I care not for your fake tears ***** this life if you sympathise with your false fears Turn about your unconnected, dysfunctional HEART, your repetitious apologies are smart, but unlikely to change my mind **** it all*** and ***** This Lifetime* if we are just going to dance to the pretend music of, Yours or Mine issues that are neither of ours, to begin! I refuse to hold onto the ribbon any longer... You Win
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
***** This Lifetime (F**k it All) I Know Better... So Do YOU!
*Symmetrical Syria we sympathise in synchronisation of sirens and sadistic nature. Those man made craters, aren't the force of Mother Nature, They depict only hatred and a tyranny statement, That says our generation will never see peace, Just pieces of you, Torn and decimated from targets based on generalisations, As if a minority defines the whole population. We seen it before in Iraq, Now we're back for more with pre determined attacks. When they asked first, They said no at once, Cue the worst still yet to come, They asked again, And they bent and broke, From the rubble comes a white smoke, But there's no new pope, And there's no hope, Just none. The headlines say ISIS, But the mind might miss the fine print, The truth is inside it, But we're not inclined to find it, Propagander at its finest, from the highest to those that digress and make our minds up for us in the name of democracy's mindset. If it's not in your name, then who can we blame? Those men we empowered time and time again? Watching news, with a second of thought, Of course you believe it, Who needs a secondary source? No remorse, of course. Just corpses and a sea as blood as far as the headlines will breath.*
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
an ode to Syria