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theladyeve Oct 2023
I am the pretty thing that lives under your house.
You left me there to rot, to be forgotten
like a flower that's never been watered and withers.
So how ironic must it be
to see a single rose bloom from my grave?

I am the pretty thing that stands next to your bed,
watching your chest rise and fall.
I bend down to whisper in your ear
and though you may have taken my voice,
the air coils and delivers my message.
Standing, I withdraw to the shadows.

I am the pretty thing whose face suddenly appears
in the dark space of your twisted mind
where you thought you buried me for good.
Gasping for breath, you wake up drenched in sweat.
You wonder if you're being irrational or going crazy.

I am the pretty thing that came back.
How lovely it is to make you insane!
You look beautiful in that straight jacket,
surrounded by alabaster walls with no windows.
It's only when you’re finally captured that you drop all pretense,
professing that it’s my blood that is forever stained on your hands.

I am now the pretty thing with a dagger in my smile.
Ninah Sep 2023
i remember my own misery
like i remember my first kiss:
it was innocent, i was nervous
and it lingered for years

even now, navigating this ocean
of happiness, i remember hunger
and i am drowning in grief

i wish i had no memories;
even that kiss turned violent,
its softness still haunts me

God, i see smiles and hear their laughter;
why does mine not sound like theirs?
i fear my pain has tainted everything
ky Jul 2023
The winds blew north
for hundreds of days,
but one day,
the winds changed.

They started blowing south.
And everything in their path
started going south as well.
Jeremy Betts Jul 2023
I wish I could wish I was more in the moment and less in the haze of a memory
Find me in a nonregulation tankless sensory deprivation simulation to deep dive into why my history grips so tightly
It's not lost on me that it feeds off of the litany of my bad energy, a never ending supply and still greedy
Can't say it's a mystery, not completely, hesitation is hard wired in on the heals of every lesson in misery
Honestly it's never a surprise, not really, the first complication to arise naturally is my own reactionary jurk of the knee
Even though that's never worked out for me, never seem to benefit any, quite the contrary actually
It's entertainment for my inner dialogue, continuously laughing menacingly as it nurtures this three-ring calamity
And I'm left to recite a sorry apology with the conviction of a hostage on VHS tape through a grainy TV
So why do I do it? Clearly it's not a chosen journey but rather some hopeless, helpless destiny
One I prayed would never find me but it was as timely as untimely could be
And now, this is me

©2023
Crow Apr 2023
the bells peal
toneless
in the hollow place
of the night

and the moon is
the cold light
of tenuous dreams
seen through
the strained fabric of
a threadbare sky

shadows of midnight words
pulled long and thin
by the weight
of expectation
sit by the road
waiting for redemption
that never comes

pallid night flowers bloom
in hidden places
adorned by a feeble glow
without scent
in their ragged flesh

words whispered by
constrained throats
are consumed

devoured by the ravening silence
blasting down
from oblivion
Achromic - Having no color
A fat man is walking,
with no boots on,
there he goes that *****,
on his great journey around.

He is staring at the reality,
from which he is away,
misery surrounds him,
and he laughs now at them.

The pain of all is a mockery,
to the fat man,
who has no boots on,
this is just typical humanity.

He has no dealing with it,
why would he be bothered,
decided just to strut,
and walk all over their dread.

Mocks them, they will not,
never ever understand,
pain of never being happy,
they only know sadness with happy.

He cherishes the mad walk,
and keeps going,
with his bare legs,
on the mud-filled path.

Women nursing children,
shouts at him,
he laughs cause he only sees,
the pain and misery awaiting.

The fat man laughs at the worker,
the toiler, a man with blisters,
what is there to bleed from,
their grit makes him hysterical.

All this noise chases him,
and he still laughs,
running on a land dry,
runs with that maniacal grin.

His feet take him to,
child with broken dreams,
men with hollow eyes,
woman with dried soul.

Did he ever see,
what he wanted,
can the fat man understand,
the true meaning of being happy.

The pain he seeks is all he sees,
he sees the horror and sorrow,
he grins and then,
goes in hysterics.

For he is the fat man,
with no boots,
he just wishes pain,
cause he loves to hate.

Oh, he just loves to hate,
all the joy in the world,
he wishes on their soul,
who has ever seen the good days.

The never-ending grief,
he wants to see, but he knows,
that this pain will also end,
and he walks away before it be.

These men, women, and children,
will get the fruits,
of their toil and care,
as they will see it to the end.

The end where is the light,
which forever shall allude this man,
this fat man who runs,
mocking and hating everything.

He never stays, he is scared,
those hopes will get hold of him,
touch his darkened soul,
and he would stop, try and see.

He just wants all to become him,
to loathe in regret, shame and greed,
await the ever-increasing sadness,
all be a part of black hole misery.
louella Dec 2022
it’s been raining for centuries
into the bottle i have put out on the porch
watching the water drizzle into its plastic casing
having knocked it over every single time i try to pick it up
i let it sit by its lonesome,
but by the time i got up that morning,
the bottle was knocked over and the water was trickling out
i buried my face in my palms
as nothing i love is permanent
not even these tears of mine
first period sad be like:

10/18/22
Irem Oct 2022
tears, flowing again
fueled by almost
almost everything again
i try to see further, but
the only thing i gain
is pain again.

20 won't be hard, they said
shouldn't have believed them
when they
got everything ruined and bad

same things were said again and again
when i was way younger and naive
younger, i mean
when the world was young like me

not the current sink that we're both in
my generation takes all the pain
thinking about how we've almost seen everything
saying this, and at the same time can already feel
the taste of my words in my brain.
i'm back like i never left.
Vilakshan Gaur Sep 2022
What do you do when walking through
the think and blinding mist?
And what if the last missing piece of the puzzle
doesn't even exist?
Say, how will you then escape the ever-spiralling maze?
And how will you rise above the darkness
hidden in all the days?
Where will you be when demons come and rip you off to shreds?
And what will then your mother say, who
Fed you from her breast?
A million words will take your place, out
of the mouths of friends
And you will not be there, my friend
When all your misery ends
It's tough, man. There is a certain darkness you must crawl out of. A certain hell. It all gets to be a bit too much sometimes. Way too much.
Terry Aug 2022
I love pretty little things.

And she was a beauty.

Her smile could light my darkness and  Her love drove my demons away.

I promised her the world even though I had none of it to give.

I took and took from her and in return I gave her all the love I had which wasn’t enough.

Her love was devoured by my appetite and my demons began to returned. Eventually her smile grew dim.

In time the darkness returned and she no longer had the strength to stay. I had no strength to keep her.

Now I am haunted by her memory and alone. My demons keep me company as they gleefully dance with my misery.  

I keep watch of her from afar. She has met another and began to blossom as her beauty and smile has returned. She is happy now.

As I watch her it torments me now as she is a beautiful star dazzling in the sky so close yet so far from my reach.

I love pretty little things……
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