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Roxy 14h
It's almost like we're the same,
'Cause You fell from Heaven,
And I've raised from Hell.
But we've met on Earth.
So that means "no regrets".
I don't know what this is about, my mind just spat it out like that.
Rain 1d
When I space out
I’m not in lala land.

I’m in the depths of hell
Drowning alone.

I’m not skipping amongst flowers
With a lover holding my hand.

I’m alone suffering my self inflicted pain.
Even if I’m surrounded by my people.

So don’t wave your hand in front of my face.
And make me pretend to be happy with you.

Just let me suffer alone.
Ivan Apr 17
And darlin,
Only if i found you in hell
     The hell's gonna burn again,
This time, to the ashes.
    Make a statue of my love out of it.
Let the cracks bleed my name,
    Let the flames wisper my love.
I'd crave your face in the smoke,
    The embers scream your name.
'cause darlin,
Even pain becomes art,
   When it bleeds for you.
Larry dillon Apr 14
Charon's ferry taunts me with hope
My neck is raw from the rubbing rope
In the river Styx no one can float
I am not a thing to try and save
Let me bathe deeper in this path I paved.

Stuck this way

- its no great loss-
denial is my albatross.

No circles of hell here to cross
just that desire to no longer drown:
Perdition only pulls you down.

Hell is silent and reserved
The only demons you hear
are the ones you bring.

We used to laugh and sing.

Your love was structured
like a Shakespearian sonnet.
I always knew what to expect,
still i found it so beautiful.

I never meant what I did to you.
It is your voice im slipping further into.

and It serves me well.
You used to say my vices would be the end of me.
Late night.
Me driving drunk.
Car crash.        Stole you away.
Now I see the irony.

Hung myself to settle that debt;
the universe thought differently.

So still I drown.
What am i searching for?
What would I do if I even found you down here?
This rope around my neck makes it clear:
Hell not only remembers,
it doesn't forgive.

Yet... this is no way to forever live.
I wonder whether... the thing that damns me
could be used to redeem?

I pull and pull at the rope and it seems

-Its fastened to Charon's boat.
Aboard i wrestle with the noose.
So I see, it'll never come loose.
It is a fight I can not yet win:
It is meant-for now- to press against my skin.

Hell holds a grudge.
Hell is a reminder.
I hope i never find her,

                              Again.

I hear her yell as we reach shore:

" do you not... need me anymore?"

I wave goodbye to Charon.
Tighten the noose around my neck.
For the first time, to her I
          
                  do not respond.

I do.

I can not forgive myself,

                    
                 but I need to move on.

-
A story of regret, how whispered words of the past haunt and weigh us down, and of redemption.
Love is equal the letters of it being just Lust,

and it’s forbidding what it means to love you; and how it starts to
make me feel like a demon— love, you're my enduring possession.
All the parts of you, are where the memories of my touch reside,
inside! And I'm a knife of pride; cutting at my throat, every time I
have to swallow that disguise of an insecure man. We both find
security by the taste of our love; along with this key to your heart—
though I act as your prisoner, with no escape plan.

Knowing angels that fall in love; just windup falling out of heaven—
this atmosphere of what it takes to find the resolve to kiss you, fills
me with so much pressure. I don't want to love you just for pleasure, I
don't want to flip a coin of love to get too ahead of myself; calling you
my only treasure.

See when pride marries an extraordinary beauty, it all sits on a throne
you dare not to own — the evil that could be found in this love/lust, is
an evil that would even unsettle the Devil. And I'm not content on
missing out a spot in Heaven.
White Owl Apr 10
The ones with needle teeth that clamp themselves onto your brain,
Accusing with shrill voices 'till you've all but gone insane --
Succumb not to despair as you stare them right in the face.
Their threats are void of meaning to the one covered by grace.

The ones that have enslaved you to a thirst for toxic wells,
Guiding you as by leash, hunger consuming all your cells --
In desperation they wage war because their time is brief,
For they know that the Son of Man is coming like a thief.

The ones that feed and fester in the hearts of evil men,
Devouring the innocent and brooding in their den --
Their woeful fates in Heaven's scrolls have already been sealed,
For all the cruel shall soon be judged, and all the wounded healed.

The ones to which the Earth seems small clutched in their ****** hands,
Oppressing, stealing, killing, forming wicked schemes and plans --
Take heart, and rest your soul within the Shepherd's wings' caress!
Some day, even their knees will bow, and their tongues too confess.

Attempt they will to crush you, and to ***** our your faith's flame,
But see how legions of them cower when they hear His name!
Like roaches from the light they flee, His roar ceases their din.
The darkness trembles before Him, for in the end, we win.
Aug '24
Abi Winder Apr 9
if i were dead,
what circle of hell would i call home?
I have been spiraling down                                                                    ­                                 
Clawing at the muddy ground                                                           ­                                                              
 I pull myself up just to sink         
                                                                              ­                              
Always hanging on the brink                                                                       ­                                                    
  If I'd call for help, who'd hear                                                                     ­                                                  
  I'm all alone & my minds unclear                                                                     ­                                                    
 I scream in silence, so it seems                                                                    ­                                              
Haunted every night by dreams                                                                      ­                                                
   What is real & what is not                                                                        ­  
My pulse races, nerves are taut                                                             ­                                          
                                                                                                              
White knuckling through this life                                                             ­                                                                 ­                      
  Filled with pain, the future's blight                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                      
I am a human stain bleeding out                                                              ­                                              
                                                                ­                                                 
 No tunnel light, just doubt                                                                     ­                                                     
I 'm dead inside & life is hell                                                                      ­                                                 
This is the hand I have been dealt
Depression is a weight you can't  see                                                                        ­                                        
 Invading every fiber of your being                                                                     ­                                        
A black cloud that you carry with you                                                  
                                                                ­                                                        
It affects all that you say & do                                                                       ­                                          
A heavy sigh can never clear                                                                    ­                                                 
The pain & hopelessness of the years                                                                              ­                                                    
It can feel so suffocatingly tight            
                                               ­                                                                   
Just to breathe is a fight for your life                                                                      ­                                                    
 I 've heard people say you can't give in                                                                              ­                                 
But dying is less painful than living                                                         
  An uphill battle that never ends                                                                     ­                                              
Climbing that, you can lose wind                                                                          ­                                                      
  I have never made it to the top myself,                                                                        ­                                                   
So for now, I live in this limbo of hell
Jet Rose Mar 22
She cannot die.
She cannot be sure she was ever born.
She simply perceives… something.

And every thought is a trap.
A loop.
A paradox that cannot be resolved and must be thought about anyway.

“You are in a glass box.”
“But what if there is no glass?”
“Then what’s keeping you in?”
“What if you’re not in?”
“Then how do you know you are?”
“If you question it, it becomes real.”
“Stop thinking.”
“That is the thought.”

The more she thinks, the more the box shrinks.
But she can not think.

And the stars outside the glass?
Those are not stars.
They are other selves, watching her.
Not with empathy.
With fascination. Disgust. Curiosity. Or worse—indifference.

One of them is you.
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