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homesick
heart ache
heart is in decay

a sickness known to all
so who do i think i am
to wallow in my own pain
as if i am the first
to feel

well
i pray that i
am the
last
RT Naintial Sep 12
Such a mere desire to have, my lady.
To be suffocated in sol of your life is a mere desire you thrist upon daily. Look at the cads!
Look how merry they are by buffoonery while you leak of probity. How generous were you when you let his sin fall in yours.
Gave a taste of your soul to a foul,
I pity you my lady.
I really do.
In odour you seek paradise with a prize of affection
yet all i see and all i will is that your kindness towards them gives them the right to ****.
Ok so this writing style of mine is called “Old man with smoked cigar's ashes dripping” like i don't know. It just clicks and here he is telling this to a lady.
Rosie Mg Jul 19
Distraction corrupts you.
As you lack interest.
I am just, noise.
Your ears are cushioned; absorbing a buzz.

Just listen to me, respect me.
Mocking me as I try to be civil.
You belittle me.
And the buzzing stops.

Your head finally turns.
You slapped the fly,
and its juices neatly seat the bench,
and you stare, and you don't care.

I slump, melting.
Clenching my jaw.
You pluck my wings,
and I let you.

My dignity stripped.
Your ego; unrestrained, unrestricted.
I just watch,
as my eyes blurt a river.
Written in 2022.
Emery Feine May 27
i was born and on fire. my skin, open flesh wounds that bled onto anyone in a close vicinity. my face, a cloud of black dust. i knew that i had love in my heart to share with the world, but no one could see past the mold on my skin that would spread to them if they got too close. i was born into two things: a fruit that appeared ripe on the outside but leaked out a decayed, rotten mess, and the hands that opened said fruit with blood that held on. i watch the destruction i've made, that i didn't mean to make, but i believed that it was justified. i wait for someone to understand these words, not to pity me, but to find a part of themselves in me. i have found nobody. i fear that as of now, i am a walking, moldy model of decaying flesh and raw meat. i did not want to be this way. i did not want to be the black sheep. i did not want to be bad. i am a sculpture of wet clay that they could mold with their pure hands, and despite all that creativity in their alive and well minds, they have carved the word "rotten" in my flesh.

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7 a to h
Why are you having
A PITY PARTY???
Why do you feel SO DOWN???
POUTING, GROANING, AND
FROLICKING,
JUST NOT HAPPY AT ALL,
with a very
NOTICEABLE FROWN!!!
It's very clear that you're UNHAPPY,
Feeling all BLUE INSIDE
You're MOPING AROUND,
feeling SORRY for YOURSELF,
Oh, the AGONY that it PROVIDES, but
I am Here to inform you, that
In Reality, THERE IS STILL HOPE,
There is still a BRIGHTER DAY,
To help you along as YOU COPE,
So, please don't have a PITY PARTY,
Just wish those GRAY CLOUDS AWAY,
Your HAPPINESS will return REAL SOON
Let the SUNSHINE ENLIGHTEN YOU TODAY!!!!


B.R.
Date: 5/25/2025
rick May 8
“I look at you,” he told me, “and I think to myself; now here’s a guy whose got it all: he’s over fed, has a nice watch on his wrist and his shoes, although not my style, are brand new. The only thing he doesn’t have are troubles and worries.”

“bartender,” I shouted, “I’ll take one more and the tab.”

“hey man what about me,” he asked, “mind topping me off?”

“and another one for the poor sap next to me.”

“you see what I mean,” he continued. “you can afford to buy drinks for yourself and for others. as for myself, they forced me into a war I didn’t support and I also got my *** shot off for a cause unknown. I was stripped of my emotions, gutted from my life, they sodomized my psyche, carved the dream out of my head and I was never given a chance at having children or a future. and all this happened before I ever held a beer or tasted a cigarette or had a woman in my bed.”

I didn’t bother responding
in hopes that he’d get the hint
but as expected, he was as
clueless as my ex-wife
and as he carried on
with relentless persistency
each word dug in like a cat scratch
and all I could do was clench my glass tighter and tighter to contain myself.

“I’ve been spit on, kicked out, beat up and let down,” he further continued. “the streets are hard and unkind and everywhere you go you’re unwanted and everything is locked. why do you think I pour into these bars late at night? to drink? naw man, I just need a place to go, a roof over my head you know?”

that was it.
I had enough.

I finished my drink,
got off the stool
and headed toward the exit.

“hey buddy,” he shouted, “can I get another one for the road?”

“no.”

“just one more?”

“NO!” I screamed.

“c’mon man, you’ve got everything and I’ve got nothing. what makes you better than anyone else?”

“now look here you bumbling idiot…”

“but…but…but…” he interrupted.

“I’ve heard your tales of woe and now you’re going to listen to me,” I said sternly. “I look overfed because of poor diet and lack of exercise caused by working 60-80 hours a week with no time to take care of myself. I have a nice watch and new shoes but it came with a price. I’ve traded in my freedom for comfort, my time for materials and any chance of love for success. you say I have everything and you have nothing? I say you’re wrong. you’ve got something I no longer possess and that my friend is soul. don’t lose that. don’t buy into the mold. don’t conform. don’t become like everyone else. most of the people you see in here have imprisoned themselves into their own personal hell. that’s the way society wants it. but you’re free. truly free. and another thing… don’t worry about sorrow. everyone’s got problems and nobody wants to hear about it. why do you think people are in here? for the enjoyment? no, there here to forget. just. like. you.”

“******* *******! I don’t need a lecture from you or your cheap advice. all I need is a ******* drink!”

…and with that,
I walked out into the
dark and empty streets
where they greeted me
with their silence.
Happened a long time ago, in a bar, somewhere down in New Orleans.
I'm a somber soul,
My baby is sick at home.
I'm too far to walk,
I'm too young to drive.
Oh it's such a pity,
Lonely with the little lows of life.
My baby is sick at home,
But I've just gotta pocket,
All my strife to sickness.
It's a real shame
Jeremy Betts Dec 2024
Dear Lord,

Hi,
Hello there
How are you?
Actually and more importantly,
Who are you?
Who am I?
Why don't you ask how am I?
Don't you want to get to know me?
Why don't you come down from the sky?
On some devine rescue
Where's the compassion?
I'd settle for pity
We're all blind from an eye for an eye
Why can't we meet face to face,
Eye to eye?
You must know I don't fear you
So it must be you who fears me
What kind of father are you?
Most figured by now
You'd have come through
But you seem to be afraid of anything new
Of course I've turned on you
Well,
Turned from you
But that's on you

©2024
Sabrina Shapiro Nov 2024
A proud mother's push
Wings spreading to catch the breeze,
a baby grounded
Jasmine Rose Nov 2024
Open up my wounds
Drench me in my sorrow

With every waking day,
hand me another pill too hard to swallow

It gives me thrill
A taste of a dark state of bliss

For who can resist
another opportunity to wallow?

My very own mind made misery
A haven from the first sign of glee

Take me there
so I can go nowhere

Lock me in
the sanctuary under my skin.
Sometimes we self-sabotage simply because we enjoy a good pity party
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