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Courtney O Oct 2020
And sometimes it comes my way
and I smile, I feel, I shake
You showed me your own kind of fairy tale
But I am a punk and I ripped it to death
The Sun did; I just allowed him to do his sacred deed

This is life, you know
So different from what you've been taught.
It is the best, and sometimes the worse.
Full of ecstasy and pain, and ups, and downs.
A ride to not forget, for sure.
Prettier than right, righter than law.
Law written by tyrannic mores!

This is life, not what you were told
so
try your best, forget about the rest
drown in it, till you're whole
most of all, have a ball
Jay M Mar 2019
"You see those scissors over there?"
One whispers,
"Those were meant for you."
It says teasingly,
"Take them, then take yourself."
It orders...

"Don't listen!"
Shouts another,
"You have a family! Friends!"
It tries to reason,
Them shouting back and forth,
Clashing with words,
Fighting with their own poison,
Battling until they are far too wounded to go on,
Hiding until the right moment,
Then repeating all over again.

"SHUT UP!"
I tried,
But nothing,
For they couldn't hear me,
But everyone else could.

Not really speaking,
But they do,
Not really there,
But it just makes sense,
Almost like a whisper,
Almost like a call,
Almost like I were a mindless corpse....

Thousands join the two,
Turning a simple argument into a heated war,
A once quiet prison yard,
To a full on riot.

None can hear their cries for help;
None but I.
None know just what I mean;
But that's not the point.

Take that pain,
Put it on the page,
Send it away,
See what it does.

I say send some,
Then burn some.

- Jay M
March 22nd, 2019
I'm alright. Just planning to burn my diary in the fireplace tonight.
Write between the lime juice lines,
And basil blood,
On the cutting board
To the rhythm of cooks' kitchen knives,

Write between the wet mop tendril trails,
On the reused restaurant floor,
As you carried to clean
A mistake some rich man made,

Write to the beat of the press,
Punching out the steel form,
In accordance with the curriculum,

Write in the silent moments,
Chewing homemade sandwiches
Through the cigarette smoked sunrise

Write between stun grenade blasts
After cleaning tear gas attacks

Write in between ****** boot prints,
The shape of the state seal
Congealed to the street.
Em Glass Sep 2020
And yet I don’t seem to remember
that anyone wished for District Five
not to have exploded the dam
that lit the Capitol’s lights.
I don’t seem to recall people
buying the tale that the police
were keeping any peace.
We were not given the mirror
to look at ourselves and say
"no, that’s not me."
unironically re-experiencing the Hunger Games trilogy in this the year of our lord 2020
Capriccio Jun 2020
****** ME
Make Me See
Who I should be.
Who unsheaths me
For I ain't Free until The ****** Od life has
MADE ME
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