OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

We're not even close to perfection

When you're caught up in the moment

Not thinking, numb

You drink the poison

The pain, it stops

Your miseries have ended

Someone else's just started

You can hide, yet you will never be able to run from it

Don't fabricate

Don't be ashamed

Get help, we all need it.

i hope you guys like my poem and I hope I'm posting them correctly:p

In Pieces

TRIGGER WARNING: Child Sexual Abuse

you are a storm
tearing my skin
bruising my bones
breaking me down
penetrating me deeply
making me undesirable
spoiled and unwanted
the world does not need me

i am used up damaged goods
and i pay his price

now i am uninhabitable
a wasteland
made of ashen skin and tired bones
longing to run free
but i can hardly walk
i am the aftermath of a violent storm
the morning after
stern eyes are looking at me
silencing, condemning, shaming
through the thin veil of humanity
there is none
he's looking at the devastation
useless wreckage
broken parts that cannot be remedied
because you say i'm not worth the effort
of a meaningful "i love you"
and a willingness to stop

what does that even mean?
have you stripped it of its meaning?
define it for me

if home really is where the heart is
let her be your sanctuary
she will fill your soul with beauty
bless you with goodness and grace
give you every piece to show you we are worthy
we're one in the same, yet nothing alike
but you live inside us
you make us your home
now all of our constellations are your playground

in the world of never never land
we've never been so terrified
though we're not allowed to run away

this child cannot escape you

you stole her away with a smile
you said it was our special time
a secret relationship, a secret game
"if you really love me..."

we still love you
we have to make you happy

because we want to
we need to
because it hurts us when you're mad
because we have to obey you
we have to respect you
we cant ever say no
we never earned that right

i can't keep going on like this

i remember you said the stars aren't nearly as bright as my eyes
but there isn't any sparkle left
all our wishes were wasted on someone to save us
no one ever did
you killed our shining stars
you took away our hope

and i still believe you
after all these years
i breathe you in
like inhaled cigarettes
i'm wrought with guilt
buried in shame
drowning in despair
and i'm burning inside
i'm burning alive
i regret every day that i survive you

There is only so much will in a person.

When the will is gone, there is no finding the way, anymore.

The way is blinded by the lack of will.

Since will is gone, they will soon be gone, blinded by will.

Sick of Me

If it's possible to be someone else, then may the stars align and let it happen.

If it's possible to cure the sickness of me, then let it be so.

I feel myself itching on the inside, waiting to jump out of my skin and into sanity.

I must be broken, and in my brokenness I must cut the feet that walk over my shattered pieces. And what use is something broken, unless you're willing to spend the time to help me back together again.

I'm screaming for someone to cure me of the miasma of me. I can feel the caustic bacteria festering in my brain, and eating at my heart.

I can feel my blood curdle, like milk, and just like curdled milk, it's useless, like me.

I'm too broken, and trodden, and disgusting for happiness to reach me. I guess it's hard to see me beneath my self prescribed mask of mud, or through the doctor-prescribed medicated silence.

Who can love an pen that's sick of its ink. Or a violin sick of its string?

I'm nothing more than a desperate raindrop, falling from a great height, wishing to wash back into the sea, and to become a new me.

A moment of motivation

A miracle, a burst of energy-

Have to write it down!

Fickle and cold,

The words don't come.

The- no.

He- no.

Nothing sounds right.

Nothing is right.

A curse, eating away at the soul

Nothing comes.

Nothing is going to.

Editorial depression,

An agony of synonyms

And silent screams for more.

Higher the word count- higher the quality!

It may be conception,

But it feels like a gospel,

When you can barely squeeze out five words.

The words don't come.

Sentences fight on the page.

A drought of ideas.

Motivation but no inspiration.

An agony in my mind,

My soul.

A dying light

As clumsy words fill the page.

A story with motivation

And no inspiration

Kills the desire to write.

Perseverance is hardy though,

And with it comes success.

Fore if you only wrote when you felt like it,

You'd never write anything at all.

Oh god I'm sorry if my poetry sucks I'm still getting the hang of things hehe ^^;

i. i am stuck in a pit. i am stuck in a pit and my sky is grey and i am choking on dirt because

ii. i am stuck in a pit where i see no sky my sky is not grey my sky is nothing. i am shrouded in heavy apathy clouds my eyes droop of sleep i see nothing but black nothing but darkness nothing but a void my everything is nothing nothing nothing nothing

iii. i am n o th i ng

iv. my skin is crawling with monsters my blood courses through my body carrying the ghosts hidden underneath every scar my lungs breathe in hatred and breathe out smiles my lips burn of fireball whiskey i have made a home in my ebony burnt skull

v. they ask me if i'm okay and i don't reply because i don't know i come to my home and ask myself if i'm okay and i knock on my ribcage and hear nothing but bones so hollow that i just whisper that i hurt everywhere, everywhere, everywhere

vi. there is a beast in my heart and it hates the taste of you it feasts on itself for fuel. in its self destructive path it burns me and i am left ashes

vii. i am nothing more than bone dust and empty chest

viii. look for me. look for me at the bottom of a pit. look in every pit to ever exist on this abhorrent earth. look for me and never find me. i am scattered in the wind my teeth have traveled up the murky void of a sky and become stars to smile down at you. you will never find me i am not in a pit anymore i am already buried beneath your feet

COLDS

Written: April 24 2014

Do you know that when one gets sick
She develops immunity against the disease?
But this isn

Trigger alert. Death, grieving

Epilogue of a death

To my favourite Pole

The window

Slowly opens

Rond de jambe

a terre.

It dances away.

The wind

Singing.

A strident cry,

d-minor,

Lalo.

Quando coeli

movendi sunt

et terra.

I smell rosin.

You ask.

Yes, its alright

The tendons of the window

Shake.

Inside:

Tremens factus sum ego

Et timeo.

We will suffer

Throughout the night

Together, alone.

Lviv haunts me.

I fear the dark and

You fear silence.

Libera me, Domine,

de morte aeterna.

The walls are melting,

And so are we.

"Can We Talk?"

Can we talk about her?

The person I used to be;

Before you came into our lives

And took her from me.

Can we talk about that smile?

The one I miss so much;

With its beauty and shine

That wiped away

All the darkness,

Any,

That surrounded us.

Or maybe the trust,

The respect,

Or even the flexibility that she gave to all;

Anyone was accepted,

And everyone was allowed.

We had an agreement

Between the two of us,

An understanding that we couldn't-

That we wouldn't-

Break.

No one knew me like she did.

But of course you should know yourself,

Shouldn't you?