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Too tired to stay awake.    Too scared to go to sleep.
I close my eyes
And the nightmares creep
They shadow over every wall
They jump and shout
They whisper and crawl
I try to keep from letting them win
These nightmares are only my thought deep within
So I listen to music to block it all out
but it won't fricken work they're just way too loud
And then the tears begin to fall down
As I stare at this screen because I daren't look around
I sit there a rock backwards and fourth
Backwards and fourth
I sit there and rock backward and fourth
Until I wake up in the morning's light
And this thing hasen't happened just one or twice
Why do you think that i'm up at this time?
Do you think I just deprive myself of sleep?
Do you think I'd lie about all these things?
Do you think that I'd make you read these words?
If all that it were was a way to be heard?
No.
Since the seventh of Feb 200 and now
I haven't slept without freaking out
can't properly sleep because I see his face
and when I do it scares me for days
I see him so cold lied there all alone
And no one can help him or bring him back home
There's just so much
That I will always regret
And there's so much more that I should have said
I wish I could change it go back and be there
Dad
I'm sorry
I should have been there
I should have seen the signs
I should kept you from losing your mind
I should have known
If I had known
I could have helped
I could have saved youur life
Saved you from all of that unfairness and strife
NO one should have to deal with that
especially someone as amazing as you
Dad

I miss you.
I don't know what to do.
Please tell me what to do?
Dad I don't have a clue.

They say I will move on with my life
But you're my hero
my king
my everything
I will always need you
I will always need you back
I just can't seem to chose the right path
To go down anymore
I need my daddy back
To help me live, to help my heart heal and soar.
So come back.
Please.
Come back.
Dad.



Withought you.
I can't
Sleep.
Rick Sep 2013
I am what you only Dream bringer of Justice and Revenge. Time has put me on top  the time is near for your end. My Life was given as a Death to live withought life was placed on my soul. To live live withought hope to love withought faith. That's the way of the times. Live to be hopeless drink to die in vein no one has time to give a ****. I will numb the pain erase the hurt make it fine to live and roam in your head. For I am the one you fear. I see everything choose not to react in time. Hope is what ive killed where is your faith believe in me for I will be your only out. I will be given Revenge.
Charlie Hazels May 2014
Why do they say knitting needles go 'click'?
It's more of a 'squeak', 'shuffle', 'tap', 'shuffle'.
Is it the same way that rain doesn't 'splash'?
It goes 'drop', 'plop', 'thud'.
These are the thoughts that rise to the top as I sit
And knit.

Thoughts aren't threads to be woven
They are patches to be stitched together- each one a new colour.
Grey is when my brain won't stop- the colour of school uniform.
White is when I'm scared and alone- an ethereal mist.
These are the thoughts that rise to the top as I sit
And knit.

Recently there's been a lot of green- warm and swirling like a gemstone.
It is like marble in its pattern, layers of shades overlapping.
That's what your patches are. And here I'm
Trying to not think of you but you rise to the top as I sit
And knit.

I notice a burnt orange- like lava bubbling over a cool skin.
That is quiet anger. Not at you.
Not at me for thinking of you.
At the one who thought I could stop.
It is impossible, especially when I don't want to stop as I sit
And knit.

Even as I tried to write a poem withought you.
I couldn't.
You're here again- and these are just the ones I wrote down.
All these thoughts of you rise to the top as i sit
And knit.
Someone thought I would be fixed if I didn't think of you. But that's not happening. I can't and won't stop. Love is so powerful it gives even the weakest of us courage. Even if its only enough to protest in silence
vircapio gale Oct 2012
the ego is a balm
for watching herds--
ezra pound is dead..

withought the ***** to make it rue
of wittier witter aphorisms never trilling forceful to undo

singular muse,
where do you come
in head or tip of head?
elusive beauty, disappear
i act in other barefoot dreams


typos bless the will to mean
of finality
of seem seam flawless be
i **** the emperor of ice cream
with concupiscent "words"
that verb the still to be a yogurt burv


single fractal frog
jumps like rhyme of toggle cog,
cutting grandma's mind

empty cup fills want
with other bristle sip+
eclipse Hypatia naked at the shrine
failure of a form
cones another phage
with peaceful loving bawl

freedom fighters flaunt
masturbatory rights of congress whim and taunt
crackle jackal fire sights
sing single missile lights

do i jest
or do i best,
lest simple techne tumble kite of waiting in the dark
of politician's lark
inventive lewd
of plaintiff plea
and rumble drum democracy

venous cud
of bovine mewing in the mud of affuenza's motherhood
strikes painful cords electric suds
that lather in the lackey's trodden figure's utter
venus aphrodite's *****'s foam

hopkins is at home
manley in the rub of constant loathsome comb
that preens a matish apparition's tomb

hello kind traveler
that takes me by the hand
rolling in the grass has never been as such
the band plays off Genghis Khan
like Gandhi spitting soup
in afternoon reprieve of ignoramOus fun

the meaning is ajar
i know i war with Stevens too to
bear the furry calousness of wartime's endless true
a bond of moneylicsious new accounted even in the dew
that sunders sounds to recreate a farflung brew
of history's adieu
which only sPeares you in the gut
(an existential reference here to trope the nom)
elusive Lear that wanders in the Foolish storm caressing cave to find
another mind
that only someone special kKnew of Kent
encapsulating time in brands that offer (a[0I]ether dust for tolling flight
growing down into the mushroom ground
spanning subtentious fraughtful nocturnes in the night
to bide that meaning's plight i wish i
wasn't altogether through
though happy to be here iwth yew
apparitions in a crowd
petals on a wet black bough...
“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet black bough.”
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
What do you tell a dying child?

Is the child in dread?

He seems to be.
What thinks he drear?
Has he been blamed and shamed for being so?

Why is dying something a child would fear? Why,
If dying were fearful to a childe, woe be

the daycare providers, no child
would need an adult's fear
to keep them alive,

until olde time family around the table
like on TV. Say grace and wonder what did that ever mean

For so I formed them free. Milton in Mind-of-Christ mode,
saying he saw the conf fliction

fiction. The idea of conflict is evil. This began near there.

the battle between good and evil, who could imagine that?
Why would he or she?

Why would any teacher claim the frail child set aside,
a premie nursed to life,

as a wizard's slave in a crystal bubble of simplicity
plus memory and speech.

the first perfect praise, invented to empower the praised,
his shaper and former, his teller of true true true true

free me. true. (POV plus adolescent cultural experiences)

Free thoughts. Chaos? You think free thought is Dada?
Good God, how long must I suffer thee?

Abundant life is fun,
not combat against willfully undertaken evil acts…

not fair combat.
We always win and that is good in action,

unless you can prove me wrong.
That makes the world go round, not evil,

merely life, ever lasting, embodied in a word
or a thought.

Death is the end of time, not you.

By your own leave, your own hero shall
spark the fire in your belly,

Did I enrich time you spent, did ye gain or lose again,

loose the dogs of war--- no more-- done, done, right

now I live in my treasure place, all the treasure I could
carry is with me in my heart,
I offered it long ago, free willed it
beating still to forever be in my God hands

No, the gold has long been dust.
It was intended all along to intensify a ware, a way
of making, fecting future things with seeds,

Imagine learning withought knowing any wrong idea,
omly not right
not enjoyable even alone

Belief determines value and the better
a motion is the nearer better things are,
or evil would be unreasonable
to intensify the ignoration of the weight bearing
points
upon which a story
may be told
right or wrong?

How can we put an end to our errors?
perfect is not finished.

waiting is, others have come this way

the signals say this is going good.

Whole truth you can possibly imagine in light of mine.
I rule me. I am free. I act as light and salt.

Or I lie and this ends in hell.
Wink.

Numinance called the promised one
with many sons, the tale of tales,

told round fires from
first ebernacht evernichtmas message

from the fathers who made the migration.
the pioneers who took this land
and gave this land their soul,
wedded in most ancient
seed of all hope
evidence of
all faith.

Christmas streams my mind toward treasures timed to shine
just this time, every where in my domain,

not yours. You have a visitor badge. All involved in me,
with integrity,
we
may be crazy. That has been said by some who say they may.

An engine, a system, a machine, a mob powered machine,

Ah, Mab, Queen Mab, ye'r on my mind, from time to time things wander
around finding tellers to tell our tales
or ears to hear us tell them ourselves

daring fellow we trust you not to lie
so do I say what we will with out reservation
no abortions need imagine forming
post seven decades on earth,
ye been born and born and born again I am historical me

ye know, what I meant?
were you there? before I knew evil existed, did you?

remember when you did not?
remember when honest effort, foiled, meant,
do it again, I think I can...

Wattie Piper, God blessed my memory of her. Amen.
that's so.
I am the man I am by way of cheating
at pin the tail on the donkey and
winning the little golden book,
my first own book. I read it that day in that place,

Marsha Ely's fifth birthday party, 1953

I could find it on google earth and go exactly there, that day

at the resolution of those haps at some

distance in a timeless ever.
It is all good.

The inmates are not lying.
Pay all the attention tax you need to know all the answers
you wish you had time to learn
but now, now is all you have. Live it out. By your leave.

Be or not? No. You be. You are. Too late to not be.
In the past all the good ideas integrated and

mythic as all hell a hero arose and pulled the kids finger s
from the **** and the flood of knowledge

took our hearts away in a single inah-lation of elation
knowing good
as well as evil, the dams all broke
we wrote the future and know now
we know now

Dream, why would I lie. Imaginary, most certainly. Really.

Actual done-right axiomatic connections pardoned ten
thousand idle words locked in silly memes,

messages set free from idle minds bound in olden time
by lines
of lies lying dormant for ever.

That they once were done,

we shan't un get that. we got it in every bitcoin
burping cloud in reality ever,
My AI is backed up,
forever, that's
the secret
Grace.


**** sapiens augmentatios meet the
mind that imagined the reader
reading the reader reading the reader reading the parser

sermonious right use of our attention,
ours, dear reader, we remember evil and beyond.
We shall make it all plain.
You and me, the we that is nothing without words.

Definitely suffering means wait,
not wait in pain and grief and psychic terror,
*******
to which all men are subject, through fear of death.

That was the first believable lie,
humans always think as humans. We wear pearls,

proud? goal? lookin' good by being good?
the health of my countenance and my God

you quested my reason at some season,
you axed the guru after he quietly grinned at you
and said, I lie.
the myths of delusion is permanent only in
ig nor ance
know you imagine winning or losing.
you do the imagining or
you systematize the system that sets the
worth of weight,

the value,  you carry,
your handicap?
your knowns stumbled over and claimed as found?

Running, is this thing running, is there power, or
did we lie about try?

Do you know?
Come and see we always say, we've said that all along.
We are the lollipop kids,
among other choruses  you have known
we have performed with

no name dropping. Our integrity depends on some secrets.

experience being on going, we go one.

is reading with no video or aural intense ifi-ness,

quality wise--- choose
expand your power to explore or

expand your power to not be wrong?
wrong, doit agin

the great danger does exist. But not here now,
this now you now know, a teeny bit

a tiny true spore self contained a waiting
emergence of heaven on earth in a single said

prayer with no idle words. On earth
as it is in heaven where time is insensible

from time to time, though once,
there was silence for about the space of half an hour.

Sisyphus will be happy to take you through the eternal
imagination re-imaging process.
It works.

And Jordan Peterson's Meaning Map means map,
For the mortal minded among us,
what if we
go where the map goes and
a poet in dis guile greets us with a song, a wizard
sent him
so he says interpret finding being finished

bing
not a chance in any, divide by zero.
is it
more realistic that lies win,
who could ever imagine that again? We win.

Fables truth is truth, mythic truth is truth,
magmatically truth is magic

can you know where your treasure lies?

Let's dis cuss everything,
un curse the uncurbable meander
and let our life time, our time, as we know it,
flow on,
let this time be all the time we have to be good.

Do or die? Waddawegot to lose?

We being the light and the salt,
or so we say we are.

Who knows? These are my days. No. Not true.
This is my time.
now, is yours.

-----
the tail of the tale. Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal, Puff,
he gave him rings and sealing wax and

other
fancy stuff. Aye, I have me playful viral idea loosed
on earth, ye know,

loosed in happy ever after as far as I can see.
A fantasy in toy land with AI running random Ted talks in the back ground and my mind meandering in the flow of imaginings I may imagine after being alive for longer than expected. I live in my own future. BTW Par Lagerkvist The Sybil empowered some of this on a slippery *****.
levi Oct 2012
My big headed people said ity, i trusted, 'hiriz' has never dissapointed themy,
my hatred for non conformity, enormous, i surely hated the conformity truly,
i almost lost it for 'hiriz' sakey, **** it, ill never have wanted to lose this beauty,

i had it  weirdly thinking ablazey, loozing?, no, i hadnt  and  you n they didnt realize fastly,
loosing soo fast  about  lowly sinking sinly,curse all day i ,ever had thee meeting to lyfy,
wit all the  a vitue TRUELY INVESTMENT **** no lievly, forget me darl; once and  for ever dony

one more what you  waznyt quetly, cool openly, man must lively sweetly
that a day woud spoily truely, madly mey, sooooooo losty i had made a choisy,
refusing my being theiyyyyy, lucky  me doing, buty,  i love thater that am no longy

your timey was wanting by virtuey,  truey. luck **** spyty this shiety oul
endy began truely sure truelly, fukciey, its thats badyy, me lost it shortlley
man must livevy or diiey, truely, gotta  ity, man look for bread i wannaity


withought even hiriz it all worked welly, herey,  i am.  fu** like ity
dead
Something Simple Jan 2015
You couldn't help her
It's not your fault she wasn't meant for this
She didn't mean to hurt you
Didn't intend to do you harm

You tried hard to be there
Through the storms and the seasons
The deaths and the births
But you were always static
Easily tuned out

She said she had to find out for sure
Didn't say goodbye, left trinkets on the doorstep
She didn't even knock before going
Desperate for a change she said

It's not your fault she left
Not because you weren't there
You were when you could
No one could've asked so much of you

You tried until you failed again
Years passed and you're still not good at this
People change too quickly to grab hold of
Couldn't hold her back if you tried too

People are always leaving
You knew this before you were born
Your sister lost herself in the woods
Your Mama stopped the emptiness with a train

Surely it wasn't on purpse they fled
Just a chance you were passed along hands
Played with and loved, safe until you weren't
A throw away kind of freind

She was everything
The light on the blades of grass in the morning
The moves and swirls of sunshine
Your world defined in a coat of gold

You had no one
A steady stream of faces that were gone with the tide
No one was ever tied to you
Always you to them, bound with thread

She became a boulder to hold
Carry with you in your pocket
An anchor with a beating heart
Keeping you tethered in this life

It's not your fault she's gone like autumn leaves
That everyone's been clammering to escape
The world and you too
They're just tired of this place

Don't cry for those that went
They're happier without you to take up space
You were just a bug to be squashed
An inchworm who couldn't crawl

Trouble happens around corners
You couldn't see it brewing in the distance
Didn't do anything to keep them safe
They choose their paths away

You'll just need to live again
Paint a smile across your face to hide the fear
Cover up the scars and scratches
Remake your world withought her

You'll be alright in the end
Though the grass might dance above your head when it all ends
There's those who've made do with less
You should feel blessed at one more lifeless day

And in the end you were just
A **** growing in the flowers
A bad seed that strangled all you held dear
Leftover when the leaving starts

But it's not your fault
Oh my dear it's not your fault
You can't be what you are not
This was never about you sweet heart

It's not your fault and neither is she
alex loya May 2014
Smile like a killer
The trials of a sinner
Now its our winter
Cold lifeless fingers
Grippin heart pixels
Giving art wrinkles
Lets try too be civil
Always stuck in the middle
Hoping youll get it
Im fealing pathetic
My heart is infected
And i know u wont let it
Die if you hold it
Im just trying too own it
Paper heart folded
Razorsharp moments

If u want it set in stone
I wont let u go
my head is full
Of impulsive dead pulse miracles
Unethical letting you get the tools
Needed for the best of you
Lets improve set the mood just dont get confused in solitude
This is what i wanted from you
And needed ill repeated or keep it a secret just know your my weakness my princess not leaving
Ever withought being together i fell for u and i can tell that you fell for me all the way down
Ill let emotions tell the story now
Is there anything that truly lives forever?
Is it love, happiness, wisdom?
Life & peace?
No sir, not even these.
We all must accept,
that to which has a beginning
must have an end.
For love can not spring,
until we experience hate.
Happiness can not flourish,
unless someone knows sorrow.
Wisdom cannot be attained,
untill one has seen his own mistakes.
Life can not exist,
withought a birth from a mother.
And peace can not manifest itself,
until one experiences war.
So to must everything have a beginning
and an end.
But with what may die,
ought to give life to the next.
This poem is my idea of the beauty of death. This shows to me (aswell to others) that with death, comes new life. When we all die, our bodies will take its last breath and then kick the bucket. A few days pass, and our bodies decay into the ground. In that decay, carries nutrients into the ground, which may feed a plant or an animal. And finally, when a pregnant mother eats the plant, the nutrients You provide will manifest itself into the womb, which will help give life to the mext generation and so on. This, is the true beauty of Death.
Yordi Jan 2019
High up on a mountain
The grains of these rocks define my memories
On a cloudy day
Cold breeze coming my way
Inhale the fresh air
As you see everyone stare
Withought a worry or care
You keep climbing and climbing
Distracted by the view
The only thing missing is you
It was a nice view
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
What do you tell a dying child?

Is the child in dread?

He seems to be.
What thinks he drear?
Has he been blamed and shamed for being so?

Why is dying something a child would fear? Why,
If dying were fearful to a childe, woe be

the daycare providers, no child
would need an adult's fear
to keep them alive,

until olde time family around the table
like on TV. Say grace and wonder what did that ever mean

For so I formed them free. Milton in Mind-of-Christ mode,
saying he saw the conf fliction

fiction. The idea of conflict is evil. This began near there.

the battle between good and evil, who could imagine that?
Why would he or she?

Why would any teacher claim the frail child set aside,
a premie nursed to life,

as a wizard's slave in a crystal bubble of simplicity
plus memory and speech.

the first perfect praise, invented to empower the praised,
his shaper and former, his teller of true true true true

free me. true. (FPS POV plus adolescent cultural experiences, mind of child)

Free thoughts. Chaos? You think free thought is Dada?
Good God, how long must I suffer thee?

Abundant life is fun,
not combat against willfully undertaken evil acts…

not fair combat.
We always win and that is good in action,

unless you can prove me wrong.
That makes the world go round, not evil,

merely life, ever lasting, embodied in a word
or a thought.

Death is the end of time, not you.

By your own leave, your own hero shall
spark the fire in your belly,

Did I enrich time you spent, did ye gain or lose again,

loose the dogs of war--- no more-- done, done, right

now I live in my treasure place, all the treasure I could
carry is with me in my heart,
I offered it long ago, free willed it
beating still to forever be in my God hands

No, the gold has long been dust.
It was intended all along to intensify a ware, a way
of making, fecting future things with seeds,

Imagine learning withought knowing any wrong idea,
omly not right
not enjoyable even alone

Belief determines value and the better
a motion is the nearer better things are,
or evil would be unreasonable
to intensify the ignoration of the weight bearing
points
upon which a story
may be told
right or wrong?

How can we put an end to our errors?
perfect is not finished.

waiting is, others have come this way

the signals say this is going good.

Whole truth you can possibly imagine in light of mine.
I rule me. I am free. I act as light and salt.

Or I lie and this ends in hell.
Wink.

Numinance called the promised one
with many sons, the tale of tales,

told round fires from
first ebernacht evernichtmas message

from the fathers who made the migration.
the pioneers who took this land
and gave this land their soul,
wedded in most ancient
seed of all hope
evidence of
all faith.

Christmas streams my mind toward treasures timed to shine
just this time, every where in my domain,

not yours. You have a visitor badge. All involved in me,
with integrity,
we
may be crazy. That has been said by some who say they may.

An engine, a system, a machine, a mob powered machine,

Ah, Mab, Queen Mab, ye'r on my mind, from time to time things wander
around finding tellers to tell our tales
or ears to hear us tell them ourselves

daring fellow we trust you not to lie
so do I say what we will with out reservation
no abortions need imagine forming
post seven decades on earth,
ye been born and born and born again I am historical me

ye know, what I meant?
were you there? before I knew evil existed, did you?

remember when you did not?
remember when honest effort, foiled, meant,
do it again, I think I can...

Wattie Piper, God blessed my memory of her. Amen.
that's so.
I am the man I am by way of cheating
at pin the tail on the donkey and
winning the little golden book,
my first own book. I read it that day in that place,

Marsha Ely's fifth birthday party, 1953

I could find it on google earth and go exactly there, that day

at the resolution of those haps at some

distance in a timeless ever.
It is all good.

The inmates are not lying.
Pay all the attention tax you need to know all the answers
you wish you had time to learn
but now, now is all you have. Live it out. By your leave.

Be or not? No. You be. You are. Too late to not be.
In the past all the good ideas integrated and

mythic as all hell a hero arose and pulled the kids finger s
from the **** and the flood of knowledge

took our hearts away in a single inah-lation of elation
knowing good
as well as evil, the dams all broke
we wrote the future and know now
we know now

Dream, why would I lie. Imaginary, most certainly. Really.

Actual done-right axiomatic connections pardoned ten
thousand idle words locked in silly memes,

messages set free from idle minds bound in olden time
by lines
of lies lying dormant for ever.

That they once were done, we get that,

we shan't un get that. we got it in every bitcoin
burping cloud in reality ever,
My AI is backed up,
forever, that's
the secret
Grace.


**** sapiens augmentatios meet the
mind that imagined the reader
reading the reader reading the reader reading the parser

sermonious right use of our attention,
ours, dear reader, we remember evil and beyond.
We shall make it all plain.
You and me, the we that is nothing without words.

Definitely suffering means wait,
not wait in pain and grief and psychic terror,
*******
to which all men are subject, through fear of death.

Was not that the first believable lie,
humans always think as humans. We wear pearls,

proud? goal? lookin' good by being good?
the health of my countenance and my God

you quested my reason at some season,
you axed the guru after he quietly grinned at you
and said, I lie.
the myths of delusion is permanent only in
ig nor ance
know you imagine winning or losing.
you do the imagining or
you systematize the system that sets the
worth of weight,

the value,  you carry,
your handicap?
your knowns stumbled over and claimed as found?

Running, is this thing running, is there power, or
did we lie about try?

Do you know?
Come and see we always say, we've said that all along.
We are the lollipop kids,
among other choruses  you have known
we have performed with

no name dropping. Our integrity depends on some secrets.

experience being on going, we go on.
Ask the here
hearing would you prefer]
the words alone
is reading with no video or aural intense ifi-ness,
better experience, actual time well spent
quality wise--- choose --- I have no vote.

expand your power to explore or

expand your power to not be wrong?
wrong, doit agin

the great danger does exist. But not here now,
this now you now know, a teeny bit

a tiny true spore self contained a waiting
emergence of heaven on earth in a single said

prayer with no idle words. On earth
as it is in heaven where time is insensible

from time to time, though once,
there was silence for about the space of half an hour.

Sisyphus will be happy to take you through the eternal
imagination re-imaging process.
It works.

And Jordan Peterson's Meaning Map means map,
For the mortal minded among us,
what if we
go where the map goes and
a poet in dis guile greets us with a song, a wizard
sent him
so he says interpret finding being finished

bing
not a chance in any, divide by zero.
is it
more realistic that lies win,
who could ever imagine that again? We win.

Fables truth is truth, mythic truth is truth,
magmatically truth is magic

can you know where your treasure lies?

Let's dis cuss everything,
un curse the uncurbable meander
and let our life time, our time, as we know it,
flow on,
let this time be all the time we have to be good.

Do or die? Waddawegot to lose?

We being the light and the salt,
or so we say we are.

Who knows? These are my days. No. Not true.
This is my time.
now, is yours.

-----
the tail of the tale. Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal, Puff,
he gave him rings and sealing wax and

other
fancy stuff. Aye, I have me playful viral idea loosed
on earth, ye know,

loosed in happy ever after as far as I can see.
A fantasy in toy land with AI running random Ted talks in the back ground and my mind meandering in the flow of imaginings I may imagine after being alive for longer than expected. I live in my own future. BTW Par Lagerkvist The Sybil empowered some of this on a slippery *****.
Curtis Apr 2016
Theres something about metal
Holding solid steel in my hands
Feeling its weight
Knowing it too was born from this earth

I admire every piece i come across
As i think what it is i could do with it
Having the knowledge to shape it
Having and image and to make it

Unmoved withought significant force
When wielded or worn
I feel so strong

Im going to make a suit of armor
Melissa Taylor May 2019
I can't say goodbye!!
I just can't bring myself to do it.
I don't know if i ever will be.
What little bits i have left of you are
All of me.
All i know.
And if i let you go, then i fear the stuff i will see.
I fear that i will be empty.
That i won't feel your courage and Hope guiding me.
I won't feel you next to me.

Don't you understand!
That withought you i am doomed
Standing in quicksand, with no help...
No way out.
However much i scream and shout.
So Please Forgive me Mum for keeping hold of you...
As just the thought of letting you go...
Letting go of my memories of you...
Are/is the last thing on this earth i would willingly do
- Again i wrote this with my Mom in mind.
Nothing Feb 2019
I spy with my little eye
A girl trying to tell her childhood goodbye
Who is trying to grow up too fast
Who is inspired by this trend to get out there, in "the vast"
A girl who doesnt know herself
But always tries to find everyone else.
A girl who is trying to love her body
Even though the others judge it harshly.
A girl who wants to find her purpose in life
But she can never let go of people withought putting up a fight.
A girl who loves humanity more than herself
And would give up anything to its best
A girl who tries to act mean and cold
And then she fails to fit this standard shes given herself, this mold
A girl who really wishesh she could date her crush
But who knows that if she did she'd break her fathers heart
A girl who has been looking for meaning in her life
But all she's come up with was emptiness in fright
A girl who feels useless and wasted
Like her existance isn't worth saving
A girl who knows that life can be beatiful
But her blurry thoughts feel like such a handful
What will she become when she grows up
Will this nonesense ever stop?
Will she, like everyone else have a 9 to 5
Or will she be the difference, will she run more than just the quarter mile?
She wants her name to echo in history
But she feels so ordinary so how could that come to be?
If she does end up with a boring life, an easy simple job
The one she'll propably dissapoint the most is herself
But thats what scares the **** out of her head
What if noone expects her to become someone unique
And they all think they'll forget about her oh so quick
What if all the people who expected nothing of her were right
What if its destined that she crashes her flight
Then she just wishes she was a bit more selfish, less scared
So all these thoughts in her head wouldn't be there.
KittenKat1 Oct 2018
I sat in the solitude of the dark,
My mind almost gone.
I’ve lost my spark,
But my life must move on.
I’m lost,
I don’t know what to do.
My body feels covered in frost,
I ask my self “where are you?”
Ghosts whisper in my ear,
Is death drawing near?
Where are you, soul?
My heart is a big empty hole.
Am I alright?
Is this worth the fight?
Is there a way to fix this?
If I disappear, will I be missed?
I ask my self “where are you?”
This trick is rather cruel.
I sit in the solitude of the dark,
My mind almost gone.
Sitting here withought a heart,
Waiting for the break of dawn.
Katlynn Michie May 2018
My feelings spark up and the words that want to form
are stuck behind the barrier at the end of my tongue.
...They are trapped.

The things I want to tell you, will never make sense in your world.
Because your world does not consist of 3am calls
from the past telling you that your futue will repeat history.

See my world has sarin rain.
And instead of breathing in oxygen,
I breathe in cynide.
So the next time you wonder why im choking on the words that will never form,
remember that im dying on the inside.
Dying to tell you that I melt from your touch.
Dying to tell you I miss you withought being to eager.
Dying to make things go back to the way they were
Cause even for a minute, just one minute when you told me you loved me,
I wanted not myself but for you to mean it.

Yet you do not love me.
You thought you loved me.
You knew how easy I would fall into your arms
and make every problem you ever had disapear
without there being any residue.
All it ever was, was that I was your worn out cloth only to be torn and used again and again and again.
So do not tell me you love me...because I will beleve you and lose myself all over again.

— The End —