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When the day comes
That my light leaves
And I go to descend
What ever will they do with me
All the way down there
Where fire pours like rain
Main population: pain
The one place
in the earth,
sure to drive you insane
I suppose they would start normally
With pitchforks
And burns
But what ever would they do,
When those things just dont work?
I suppose they'd try to drown me
In magma
Or flames
But when that smile
forms across face
They'll see
I like the pain
So this might go on for centuries
They'd try as well
To hurt my mind
But when all they find is numbness
Well
I might get hired
Jaycee Jun 2015
I'm scared of bugs and, also hugs.
I enjoy writing, it keeps me smiling.
I like the rain, people think I'm insane.
But you seem to be different.
You remind me of being an infant.
Everything is exciting and new.
It's amazing, how you help me pull through.
I go off topic quite often.
The things I'll ramble on about..
I hope they won't make you check-out.
I wasn't sure how to title this, I just sort of spilt it out..
lmbf Mar 28
I can't write for you anymore.
Yes, I have hundreds of loosely scrawled letters written, typed, stored in one or three or five of the books I've taken over five years in a milk crate from city to state to small town and back again.
Yes, it took me an arm, a leg and a misguided rebound to get over you
But alas, here we are.
Yes, I know you won't miss me - though I know at one point you did care
But it's time for us to say goodbye.

I will dot the period, not the semicolon
(like you did a million years ago)
Seal the last letter with a smile
And never turn back.

Not until my teens ask me, "Mama, who were you before the world broke its promises?"
Will I pull out the milk crate
Filled with loosely scrawled letters written, typed, stored
And talk about the curly-haired blonde boy who first broke my heart.
Umi Aug 26
It won't stop,
It can't stop, the fire that is rushing through it,
Burning it's content until nothing but ash might be left,
An inferno, a firestorm maybe a rain of embers fueling the misery,
When did it start, that conflagration which consumes my being,
When will it end, this purgatory inside my chest, producing misery,
Without realising it I already gave up all my remaining hope,
After all, there is not much left this fire can feast on in laughter,
Will I be hollow, will I fade to ash and blown away into a soft breze ?
In the end it does  not matter, in the end I will not be able to remember, in the end there is nothing for me left to worry about,
My central has been turned into a kiln, fostering this flame,
It may sting, but I can move on, even if I sink to the bottom,
The light in me will finally be able to carry me out one day
All I need to do for that event to be triggered,
Is to hold on,
And hope.


~ Umi

[M i d w a y - H i m e]
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