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Kept out of sight,
And stroked with inks of blue,
I pen in black and white,
And journey my way into you.
Through summer nights,
Back in time of the cusp of signs,
I see you through the slits of light,
As deep down you burned too bright.
I wonder if every facade,
You'd bury in your shade!
I'm bewildered if every heart,
You'd broken to exist in hate!
For as I caressed you on green pastures,
I reciprocate your aura with the soul I laid.
What I could never see within,
You were the one healing.
I'd drive you past your mind maze,
And deflect the waves arising,
Nor did I care to trace.
Or was I realizing?
For if I gave warmth to settle,
I could brush up the haze.
Saw you climbed the beanstalk,
As I fall from cloud nine.
Made you reached the end of time,
And landed on the first line.
I wonder what every facade,
You'll hide within the shade!
Cause deep slumber intertwined with pain,
Is the catastrophe that struck you in vain!
Charlotte Ahern Sep 2020
every man looks bigger than they are in the shadows
it takes courage to step in the light
and really be seen
Do you agree?
Dream Oct 2018
I've begun a war, i wanna abandon.
But the love in me, the one you can't see, is the only reason im here.

I wanna defeat gravity.
I wanna be high and woke.
I wanna blow all these thoughts and the **** called feelings up in smoke.

I want that liquor in my hands and my *** on the floor.
Till i find my way, i won't take steps no more.

Don't wanna go home, cause walls gives the body warmth not the soul.

Give me words to express how i feel.
I don't wanna be real.

I wanna dissappear into the crowds, and not come out.
In my own world.
Im gonna cover up, i won't let them know.
Cover up, i won't let it show.
Cover up.....my broken soul
I wrote this a while ago⛧
Alisha Apr 2018
A few hold a wall in front of them.
Pretending to be someone they are not.
Trying to impress the world.
Trying to impress themselves.
We sometimes try too hard to impress that we forget what we are doing.
True friends "may" see through farcades, true friends "will" love you for who you are.... without the pretending.
We stick ourselves in this teenage mindset, thinking that we have to be perfect, flaws are a bad thing. Life has ended before it could begin.

We need to understand that facades, is not open, and dethrones our true nature. For one to love us we need to love yourselves first. ;)
SoVi Mar 2018
I always wondered how long I could hold your breath
Hands wrapped like ribbons on your neck
No signs of forced entry since I let myself in gently

I always wondered how my feet will feel on tile flooring
Stained red when you didn’t stop me
Just wanted to write down some notes and your arms were so appealing

I always wondered how I’ll look bathed in blood in the moonlight
Will it look blue with the night hue?
Pity you didn’t let me try, your cries made me lose my appetite

I always wondered how it’ll taste, human flesh from your face
Only the most honorable will be selected
The rest thrown to dogs since they didn’t fit my palate

But of course, I only wondered
I am only hysteric not psychotic your Honor.



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Inspired by the show Hannibal.
Tori Dec 2017
"I am enough"
She said to the mirror,
Dull eyes gazing back
Her reflection recreating regal
expressions
That coming so naturally before, now were cracked

"I am beautiful"
She said, with silver tears
Brimming in her eyes
In the daytime she was Clepatra
Aching for affirmation, filled with ***** lies

Standing in her own presence
No lines so sweetly versed
No role to be rehearsed
Fists clenched, lips tightly pursed
Oh beautiful tragedy! you lost your identity...
the ache is stayed with the plunge of a blade
breaching  the chasm which once held your heart
Tis the season to be dying
Not too jolly are the lines I'm writing
The hymns mimic my weeping soul
A tune strung with a broken bow

Frail lullabies drenched in sorrow
Wilting with the fading greens
We inhale clouds of dusty air
Cold and fragile as my spine

Tingling numbness in my heart
Like frost bites from within
The finale of an orchestra
An epilogue of sorts

Wintry hails in my disturbed mind
Raining like misfired bullets
From a shoddy gun
Burning letters into my hands

The poetry I craft not pretty
Lacking tales of sugarcoated reality
Mostly **** and somewhat edgy
Infused with truth and too much realitys
Acina Joy Sep 2017
There are words that can't reach me from here
If you simply pluck them from there.

I need to know a person like you exists,
not about what other people say,
not about what you do in order to be like them,
not like losing the one thing you can't have back
in order to become higher than me, not about
breaking yourself for others because you simply
can't fix them.

Once in awhile, someone needs you to be you,
and sometimes, I have to be me to be me.

Let someone know you can be yourself, and it will all be fine. And being fine, is simply alright.
Sometimes, you and someone else need to hear from each other with real hearts, not with a guarded mind.
Softly Spoken Mar 2017
I walk this Kiez
A perfect balance of anger and grace
I must be on my toes
At every moment
Scanning each face
Adjusting response in lieu of what's said
To hold space with intent
Not wanting to expect the worse
Encounters of violence
But I prime my senses
Prepare my reflexes
To respond at a split
So at this knifes edge
My nerves sit
Thus I Take the city at my pace
Smile and walk these streets
Always chin up
Look the world in the eye
And from this flow
Square my shoulders
Preside
In this moment. I stand
Exist and go forth
Question not where I came from
But still exhort from my feet
A slow pace
One after another
I aim myself home
Throw the compass asunder
As I stalk and i prowl
My body projecting a fierce front
That I pray will get me to my door
Untouched
Unnoticed
And unharmed
Slide the key in the lock
Feel resistance as tumblers align
And allow me entry
Finally
To my home
My safe space
The weight of holding a balance between anger
And grace falls away
I know... I know
It's disjointed as ****
But somehow nicely sums up my stream of consciousness as I stagger home
Devin Ortiz Jan 2017
Dripping sweat, from the days slaving away
Carving, the blood and frustration into a mask

Each chip, which shaves and thins, is paid in flesh
This facade can capture many faces, or no face at all

But when placed upon the brow, the craftsman disappears
For in this tribute to false faces, the true being surfaces

I have never known myself, until I dawned this mask
I breathe air which has never been my own, I am alive.
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