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Carter Ginter Sep 2017
I thought I lost the best part of me
When you walked out so easily
Now I realize that you leaving
Saved the deepest part of my sanity
You tortured my mind and made me sick
I'm ****** in the head from all your ****
I wasn't wrong to love you
No, I was wrong to stay
But I know in my heart that
You'll regret it one day

Cause you broke me down
And destroyed my heart
I gave you my all
Now I want out!
You left so long ago but
Left this curse on me
I'm finding escape
In **** I don't believe
But What else can I do
When I never ******* sleep

The years of these blades
And the gallons of poison
In no way compare
To the place you have me in
Conditioned my mind
To sensor my thoughts
Just to avoid
The brutal nights when we fought
And I was never enough
It was always the same
Even when you ****** up
I was always to blame

Cause you broke me down
And destroyed my heart
I gave you my all
Now I want out!
You left so long ago but
Left this curse on me
I'm finding escape
In **** I don't believe
But What else can I do
When I never ******* sleep

All those nights spent alone
When I needed you most
Should have been enough
To convince me to go
But no, I stayed with you
Did whatever you'd say
I became your slave
Your personal outlet every ******* dayy
Ugh

*******! For all that you did to me
*******! For the haunting memories
They're burning my heart
And plaguing my mind
You cannot escape what you cannot unwind

You said you loved me
***** you don't know how to love
You only play your childish games
And run away when life gets rough
Ugh

Cause you broke me down
And destroyed my heart
I gave you my all
Now I want out!
You left so long ago but
Left this curse on me
I'm finding escape
In **** I don't believe
But What else can I do
When I never ******* sleep
Something I wrote forever ago about the toxic relationship (wasteland) that was my first love.
Jack Jun 2018
Need drugs for my composure just can't seem to stay sober
Need closure to stay sober oh what overexposure
Dilated pupils and blood shot eyes the voices are mean she calls out and cries
Bars of white powder, crisp and cut clean
Coated with fentanyl just not for the eye to  see
A band-aid with a bow tie or a fix with a twist
I can't count the days sober
Oh what overexposure

(C)
Leo Dec 2018
No more screaming, no more voices
In the empty land of wasted stories.
A place of madness and lost faith
But look at it the right way
And it’s astonishingly great.

A null tricky game, planned, well played,
You’d better keep watching before it vanishes anyway.
But perhaps it’s too late, in this blurry night
Maybe too early to see the bright light.

Just a second of hope, a last broken prayer
To remind you in this game, you were a good player.
Cause there are no winners
No losers, no glory
In the not too far land of wasted stories.
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
what
shines too bright
will always dim
those who lie
also sin
for there was
no chance
for me to win
in the toxic wasteland
with him
Jade Lima Jun 13
Left for dead.
What’s there left to do?
So misconstrued I’ve lost my shoes.
My heart is a barren wasteland.
Just let me sink my toes in the wet sand.
Forget about their plans, and this awfully crafted hand.
There’s no where left to go.
Lost my heart and soul.
I miss feeling woe.
But I’m stuck in this broken home.
There’s nothing for me here.
And everyone’s hate for me has become so clear.
So **** it all there’s no need anymore for tears.
Monika Layke Aug 17
Lay your head on the grass.
make me feel like the one.
A desert cactus space alien,
out of the moon shadows.

Sleeping in the back of my car
never went far,
57 Chevy’s won’t fly.
Make me feel like the one.

Some people know it all.
Lay your head on the grass.
I’m the quiet type
if you listen to the wind.

Not trying to start a fight,
you’ve come to set me free
out of the moon shadows.
A desert cactus space alien.
Anya Apr 25
Sometimes when it rains
I visit the Wasteland Hotel
Don’t ever go there mama says
But I don’t listen

I pack my empty bags
And I’m ready to arrive

The hotel is placed in the middle
of nowhere
Most famous spot in here

Through windows of sadness
grey turns into blackness
The doors are always closed
No chairs, if I wait

Bath full of tears invites me in
Bed of insomnia is ready
Made fresh from anxiety and stress
Best quality...

The food is great too
For a starter, panic attack is served
Then, the main course,
depression in dark sauce
Followed by, no dessert

Death smiles to me while preparing
my drink, we usually chat for a bit

That flirt!

He tries to convince me, to stay there
with him
Says that he loves me, wants me
...that’s when I leave

What a place!

Sometimes I go there, when it rains

Do you, go there sometimes too ?
Elder D Anthony Oct 2018
Languid prickly pear.
Ashen, voracious sky lay waste.
bruise Earth.

Prickly languid pear.
Hold fast against the wilted branch.

Thank the tree for its regard;
the limb that decayed the least.
                              O' how my will hangs
                              as I do above the death
                              who brought us this rot
Pear, languid and prickly.
Tenacious pride claws and bites
at morbid despair and lonesome longing;
                                                        ­           neither victorious.

Ashen sky dust and burn the peel

Languid pear.
Pain felt from
the dying of the limb that had more than
you in the end

Resentment tucked between the anguish.
Who brought us this rot?
                              O' how this will fades
                              unable to deliver
                              the cut that will end
The branch snaps.

Languid.
World devoid;
the will of which persists.
Lizzy Jan 2015
My couch is a wasteland,
Pulls me down, I cannot stand.
It scares me that I’m drawn to gore,
I see destruction, I want more.
I don’t know if its anger,
Or if it’s something stranger.
I want to shatter glass,
I need to make this feeling pass.
I want to throw things and scream,
I want to get out of this dream.
Running isn’t satisfying,
I feel like I need to break something.
Samantha Cunha Dec 2018
distant city sounds
invigorate my racing mind
italian cars race
in the  noir night
white powder
stains
  clear warning sign
chained to this
toxic wasteland
for quite some time
he spoke
cruel worlds
with a twisted tongue
words cut deep
wounded & stung
I
Should have known
from the start
what shines too bright
will always dim
those who lie also sin
there was no chance for me
to win
in the toxic wasteland
with him
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Away, I’d like to sail away from this land locked life;
free to sail to dreams and lives beyond my own.

I dream of lands where warm winds fan my soul,
and freedom follows me to shores where time forgot.

An anchor tied around my neck, this life has come to be.
Give me strength to find the way in this desert wasteland.

Away, I’d like to sail away, free to grow and live.
This raging need to be myself is screaming to be heard.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Out of the merciless darkness and recesses of February,
comes the hope and promise of rebirth.
Hope only as white covers the landscape and grey dominates all;
life has all but ebbed away in this wasteland of broken hearts

A year of wasted time, a life made barren by you.
Time has slipped away in healing, and transforming into myself.  
How could you have left me to face the life facing me alone,
hurting and in silent grief.  

You alone can answer the questions,
and you alone can make me whole once again,
to face a new life and calm the ghosts of the past and
give me the hope of renaissance.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
annh May 26
Beyond the shanty town of Midtendrift, where the moneylenders ply their trade among the aimless and avaristic, lie the ice prairies of Ensomfelt. The region is a barren wasteland whose boundaries are flanked to the west by the bottomless crevasse of Issorg and to the east by Lake Hjertestorm.

Those who come to wander this no-man’s-land may find that they disappear from the earth for a time - from themselves, and from the memory of others. Relying only on inspiration to guide them, they pass this way unseen, their weary feet making shallow graves in the freshly fallen snow.

The rocky outcrop at Engeldrøm marks the gateway to the in-countries. Nestled beneath the foothills of Mount Håp, this is the place to which souls lost to the world of ego and ambition return to take up their torch and remember.

During the long northern winter, the sky above Håp is an expanse of indigo ocean punctuated with an infinity of lamplights. Among these lanterns which float free of the earth, the North Star shines the brightest. It is here that you will find your journey’s end and a treasure trove of truth, forged in fire and sealed in ice.

Apologies for the bastardised Norwegian:
Midtendrift - Middle Drift
Ensomfelt - Lonely Field
Issorg - Ice Sorrow
Hjertestorm - Heart Storm
Engeldrøm - Angel Dream
Håp - Hope
Emma Jul 2018
She was never sure it was what she wanted,
arguing with a man who wanted her to carry a piece of them both.
But sure enough a small bump formed,
and from the first heartbeat she fell in love.

Everything from then on was tiny socks in tiny shoes,
fluffy cribs in shades of pink and blue.
Excitement and worry and fierce protection,
arms curling on top of her belly in intense affection.

But when the time came, something went horribly wrong,
when there was no screeching and crying to break the calm.
A child, still, unusually peaceful and serene,
she held the tiny shell where her baby should have been.

Everything in her life reminded her of her pain,
and nothing inside her could ever be the same.
Not even he could understand,
how she was stranded in her ****** wasteland.

Clothes and toys quickly packed in a box,
her body still creating milk for a being that would never grow.
she'd have to find a way to move on, living with the constant ache,
of the loss of a person she would never know.
Natasha Jan 2014
Tiny pairs of wings in colours of lavender & mint
flutter over rose chiffon, hanging over the curtains of my window

Outside, the world settles slowly in the white night. It's most unbearable because I recall that such lovely creatures have no place
in this stoic wasteland at all.

There is no warm wind to lift their feather-light  wings,
nor flowers in which they may sip on
delicately

Jack Frost would nip at their tiny bodies
Father Winter would freeze their wings in motion

The cold winter wind would whip their breaths away. A sunrise pattern on the snow, littered with colourful decay.

Broken butterflies-
frozen; for the world on display

I still collect my voice with a tone of surprise, that they continue to flutter by inside next to this bed in which I lay.

For without your arms wrapped around my waist
the air in here is much the same,

As what lies beyond the window pane
Silverflame May 2016
At day you can’t see them, because they are nowhere to be found.
But when the light is out, they head to the empty playground.
For while you are surrounded by walls, in your bed dreaming.
This is the place where their childish hearts are pretending to be beating.

The seeker is covering their eyes while counting loudly to ten.
Here they get the chance to play their favorite games once again.
Fighting carelessly over plastic toys and digging in the damp sand.
It looks like a lively place to be, instead of yet another wasteland.

They are hiding in the trees, giggling. Who can climb all the way to the top?
Tiny hands are holding on to each other, spinning around until they almost throw up.
Going down the rusty red slide: some are going fast, others nice and slow.
And if they hear you coming, they’ll be gone like the first flake of snow.

Far away, you might hear a familiar sound of squeaking swings.
Laughter is echoing through the night, carried into the town by bird wings.
They are trying to evade being captured, while running in a green ocean of clover.
But the sun is lurking in the dawn;
soon their fun and games will be over.
I had such a weird dream a couple of nights ago, and it gave me inspiration to write this. And don't ask why I dream about dead children, because I don't even know why myself.
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
My hands
Brought to ruin
Wasteland
Burnt to death by fruition
When every song will grind our souls
We will live to break our bones
In service of the name we cannot speak
Our life, our death an endless melody on repeat
Should I breathe or just give in?
Should I love or die my friend?
Love to death, breath to surrender
I, begin

To see the nature of all these monstrosities
Bound inside my hidden anxieties
But nothing helps when the sun still sets
On empty halls in houses not yet meant
To shelter the weak from the coming storm
To shelter us from the pulpit, mourn
Our insufficient gesture of goodwill
In the darkness we suffer soft and still
Should I breathe or should I just give in?
Should I love or die my friend?
Love to death,
breath to surrender
Decompose the sound of silence,
return to sender
Chrissy Mar 25
Every step I take forward in the abyssal sand
I lose myself farther in your desert
I saw only dry bones and uninhabited land
but in this desolate wasteland you were my hallucination of an oasis
so I wasn't afraid to get lost in you
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