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Dead Man's BellsKnock-Knock, greeting a dead man,
Offer him some tea.
Cup, saucer, brew
floral heart medicine,
a dose- times three.
Dead Man's Bells
ring up the walk,
and he's almost finished the cup-
We just drink and talk.
FlashlightsI run on the line, the straight line
Between the metal boxes
Filled with Things
Run, run, on the dotted line
Flashlights, explosions, silence
Fifty HorsesWe set out today.
Fifty men and fifty horses
Each a member of the armed forces.
We marched through the rain,
We marched under the sun,
at times it almost seemed like fun.
Supplies ran low-
We didn't care-
We were nearly there.
When a tree re-appeared,
Spirits began to sink.
And they disappeared- naught to drink.
When we were almost there-
We met our foe.
But we couldn't even strike a blow.
So here lies fifty men and fifty horses.
Each a brave member-
Of the armed forces.
BoulderI am a knife.
without a handle- a grip-
i slice at the Truth
speeding merrily through spiderwebs
Until a boulder blocks the path.
it laughs-Silly knife!
I am too big.
Ha Ha! I am too big! I am too-
ThunderingToes kiss the ground
to the unknown-
the Big Lie thundering
in my head
cupping me gently
over the madhouse
I'm so happyLook at the moon
its half full
Reflecting the low tide
It drains my face
Making me a model
I'm so happy.
My feet squish
the salty sand
A temporary imprint
On the earth
Laying down on the bed-
I'm so happy I could die.
Cause theyre afraid of thunder.
I need a partner
To swing from,
And I want her.
I'm a wolf in wool
On the dance floor.
CandlesI've set out candles
Rose petals and romantic stuff on the bed-
You love me too
Im still often in love with you.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
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