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My Poems are ScarsWhat is the point of poetry?
It only creates a record
Of things I would rather forget.
So why do I even write it?
Why do I document despair
To dwell on it later
And relive those memories
That should be old scars?
Is it because I cant remember
Without some trigger
And some masochistic part of me
Cannot let go of my past?
My poems are what I have left
Of that place I once called home.
But why do I read them
When Im so much happier here?
ReleasedI was chained tightly up
In my own bitter thoughts
Of endless pain and misery
Dreams filled with death
You released me
In your arms I fall
And forget myself again
Bitter thoughts disappear
When you gently hold me
My heart will be
Yours to carry for
As it'll wither away
By the day you are gone
I never felt this real
You made me whole forevermore
Why not give up?What do you say when life's in your way?
What do you do when you a'int got a clue?
Where do you go when you'er lost and alone?
What do care when when you a'int got a home?
Who do you love when no one loves you?
Why go on with nothing for you?
Why not sit and give up?
Why not just throw up you hands and say well fuck?
Why not end you'er life and leave all it behind?
Well my sweet darling heres the reason why.
You never know when you will meet a new friend.
You never know who will give you a clue.
You never can tell who will light your way out of hell.
You never know when a home will resurface again.
And you never know who will bring love to you.
And for all these reasons and many more, we need you here on life's sweet shore.
Help me, God.Come one, come all,
Come willingly to service.
Come embrace the lengthy arms
Of our loving God.
So he came, he served,
And he put forth all his faith,
And he took the wine and bread,
And sung to God.
And he prayed every night,
And forgiven of his sins,
He prayed for protection,
From his God.
And he prayed, and he sung,
As domestic life turned rough,
And he wondered, in his strife,
Tis the will of God.?
No older than fourteen,
Shattered were his dreams,
When he ran onto the streets,
Hoping to God.
He took relief in poison,
And he prayed for his forgiveness,
Or for any chance of saviour,
From his God.
Alone he was in prayer,
Cold, Hungry, in despair,
In rough territory, no repair,
He questioned God.
And so, on the streets alone,
With his poison, overthrown,
In the clutches of the cold,
He screamed to God.
Come and feel the torture,
Of a kid living on the streets,
Dying on the streets,
I cut myself and watch it bleed,
I feel the rush inside of me,
I don't cause I'm stupid, or I'm ignored,
I do it because I'm kinda bored,
Running down, the bloods so great,
How did I ever get to this state?
I know its wrong, that I should fight,
then why the hell does it feel so right?
Why can't I stop, how can this be,
that I cut myself were no one can see,
no cries for help, don't want to be found,
but walking around my blood stains the ground,
I need help, I know I do,
I hidwe in the dark, won't come through,
And so, unfinished this poem shall go,
because, what happens next you never shall know.
Hath No FearGiving yourself completely up to fear is kinda like falling in love: You can't pin point exactly when it started and by the time you realize that you are surrounded by that sensation it's already game over. Just like the image of the person you are in love with starts creeping out from every unexpected corner, fear never leaves your side when you give it a welcome stay. After a restless sleep, it starts beating anxiously in your heart the moment you wake up in the morning and commands all your thoughts and actions throughout the day. It is nothing short of a prison, except you are the only inmate and the warden never takes a break. Ever.
I do not exactly remember when I let fear occupy my being but I remember the exact moment when I realized I was ruled by it. It was late in the afternoon, everybody was out there 'getting busy living' and I had locked myself inside my bed half awake, not particularly finding any valid reason to get out of it. Then I was awakened from a nightmare by my
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More