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Isaac 6h
colors mix together; the grass looks teal
the sky's not clear, but I wear shades
with dark blue lenses, wishing
that my life was different

all around me unseen hues are gazing
my distant mind's at rest without a clue
of what it must accept when seeing true

an open book for
people who aren't there
alone, I feel as if they stare
the weight of life, I cannot bear
coping with this, I must not care

living is painful; will fantasy fade?
I'm numb to it all, ignoring what's real
I feel dumb
because
the blood isn't
making it to my brain
it's rerouting itself
to where
it's pumped
and I
feel
light-headed

*falls
T'was not a spirit,
T'was not a ghost.
There is no specter,
Which haunts my soul.
In a joyous world,
I and I alone,
Am the inspiration,
For each sad poem.
I deal with my feelings and my thoughts by writing them down in stories. Once they're on paper it's no longer my problem to cope with, it's the paper's.
Maria 2d
I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.

I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.
As if he is now more likely to choose a long-term deficiency, secret nirvana-nothing instead of manipulation of the loud living; He does not even notice himself, as he behaves - perhaps - as the brainwashed wickedness, lubricating, damped indifference is the greatest enemy.

In decades, it is already a plenty of action adventure if you feel inside that you can only count on yourself, if you are left alone. He is deliberately trying to find, in the depths of selfish moles caves, to find the bustling, possible questions of existence, and often no longer understand who, when or where he was able to make a mistake and bribed.

You know, because most of the many crypt-faced people are pathetic one of many who are the subject of total ridicule, but still try to never complain. And then, from time to time, like a ****** rickshaw, the average is a silent rebellious protest from the average, -true, to no avail, because on the one hand there are even more important and important things on this earth; For example, who steals, embezzles, or cheats more - and while he thought the happiness he found was just that he was within reach - he barely noticed that he had been buried alive, the unbroken, cynical, bitter -smelling small -smelling Calvary ...
Sam S 3d
You can know someone for years
and never really know them.
And then there are those
who understand you
before you even speak.

There are friends for now,
friends for a while,
and the rare ones—
the ones who never need an invitation
to understand.
"What have you got there?"

"A few particles of joy and this.  I found it hidden when I last looked in my quiet."

He opened his hand tentatively, not sure if it was safe to do so. He had unknowing saved a small remnant of his original soul.

We looked at the torn corner resting in his palm. It was more than anyone could have hoped for for someone who had remained in London.

"How have you kept hold of that?"

"I'm not sure. It might be from my old prayers. I thought it had been used up years ago. Is it worth anything?"

"It just might be worth everything."
Started with a thought prompted by a blackout poetry thing which I messed up.
Frances 3d
Cursed in my daze
Need to be saved by a omnipotent ombudsman
The longevity of my loss of luck
Lonesome underground
Rather be burned in ashes
To one day be replanted
Being eaten alive doesn't sound like a dream of mine
Paying it forward through my sacrifice
In this air I never felt well
Loss of sleep gave me bags to keep
Desensitized from reality
The more I see
The more I feel dead as I speak
Stop before you get close to me
My soul isn’t lost
My body is just gone
Temporarily
Leanne 5d
Hanging in the gallery of my soul, decorating the walls. I’ve hung many canvases, some that you have never seen.

The wall behind me holds a portrait,  painted beautiful with hues of green and blue; this portrait shows things in life that have never been.

Next, you will see a canvas painted with a beautiful bouquet, showing all the things I’ve given away in life.

Look to your left—don’t turn too far, you might miss this tiny masterpiece that some call art. This tiny art piece shows the littlest kidney bean in the palm of my hand. What was once a dark spot on it, now removed, shows how much grace this little thing has produced.

As you walk by, you see a hanging, almost clear sheet; this is what it feels like when people look at me.

On the wall behind the sheet is a beautiful display showing many footprints of everyone who has walked in my life today.

In the corner, on a little shelf, a broken vessel sits. This vessel was put back together without its biggest piece. Though tattered and misshapen, this vessel still shows so much beauty.

On the biggest wall, by itself, you see a boldly shaped red heart painted so brightly; this piece shows how my heart feels when I am being loved just right.

So, as you have walked and wandered in this gallery of my soul, I hope you find comfort and know that not all of your precious art can be sold.
You & Me
A Ship At Sea
A Bird So Free

You & Me.
Everlasting Love.
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