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Let me recite a line borrowed from an old poem of mine about pain and sorrow,
"Release is a crucial element for any chance to get a better future from tomorrow"
While life has taken many shots at me, I seem to be supplying the ammo
By this point it's fully equipped, got 'em armed to the teeth like Rambo
Why would I be held responsible if, let's say, one day, the relief value was a no show
Let me guess, you don't know
That's not an aura of envy, my anger feeds the green glow
And don't nobody likes me when I'm angry so
I must open the valve and let things go whenever possible

©2024
Eyithen 2d
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
DET 6d
Merely a bonehead like myself can utter,
"Pardon me..."
For another fleeting life...

Again, another agonizing memory,
Clinging onto me like thorns in my soul.

The fact that your presence cannot be witnessed
It haunts me in whispers...

The poison that was mine, thy lips kissed,
And the pain you endure, myself hath to sow...
Thy departure ...

And once again, another fleeting life...

Whilst the grief settles down once more,
My mind is mentally pounded...
Myself dare saith no more...

For I am mentally absent once again...
Death of a pet. Born on February 2, 2024, and died on May 1, 2024.
I lost my mind ,
Or so it seems.
Doused in fear
Of uncertainty.
The mind is small
Yet we think so big.
And here I lay
In the grave I dig.
As one small nudge
And I’m ready to blow.
Losing myself ,

Now out of control.
Lydia Apr 25
when I was angry, I was unstoppable
with fire in my veins I felt like I could move mountains if I just believed it hard enough
I was so capable
and so delicate
I was so scared
and so strong
when I was mad, I was motivated
with pain came beautiful triumphs
I was so ashamed
and so proud
I was so embarrassed
and so confident
when I am not angry anymore, I am incapable
without fire in my soul, I don’t believe I can get up out of bed
I am so happy
and so sad
I am so comfortable
and so confused
Building up my anger,
      brick by brick.
Laying a wicked heart upon
the cement of hurt I feel;
And if I were a street— everyone would
now be correct to walk all over me,
      brick by brick.

A bridge, to gap two parties as the
middle ground to all their arguments
—an abandoned apartment, filled with
all the tenants, of memories well lived,
      brick by brick.

A madhouse, for all of the creativity;
to out there for the world to even understand
So brick by brick, they lay
Day by day, I try not to build a
wall around my constructed smile,
      brick by brick.
frankie Apr 22
When the air shudders
and the air is thick with
onyx pressure, dunes of war,
muffled gusts and stubborn iron --

A tree sighs barren,
unable to support their own leaves.
A giant of reverence,
testament to love,
time's lust and an intimate rot long gone.

The bucking of future's specter,
the manic hoarse thunder at silent soil
and patience lost to rain's unbent ear.

They who died with a full belly,
remorse only for wind's kiss and Earth's embrace,
laying with demons,
open door, dialogue honey, a bookcase full, sore legs.

opulent hearts

-- Heaven's ******* and Hell's divine,
the Hummingbird of West Berlin,
the mortal's roach and the stars' first undead

with taut bones and ragged flesh,
amongst carnival lights
and eldest fire's pride,

returns to the World again.
Viktoriia Apr 20
i hope there's a place for us
in the end.
unwanted, unpleasant,
they feel so uneasy when we bring it up,
the horrors of death.
they want to forget,
they want to be safe in their bubbles
of blissful oblivion.
right.
should we say we're sorry
for being too loud,
too angry, too stubborn,
not willing to die without a struggle?
perhaps we're just making it all up.
well,
although it was mostly pretend,
we really appreciate
your concern.
thanks for nothing.
i hope there's a place for you, too,
in the end.
Jeremy Betts Apr 17
To pain I am no stranger
The first name basis is strange for sure
Caught up in an above the boards love affair
Like day to day warfare
It's fare if everyone fights fare
Otherwise it's life as a sucker in a bunker
Still not safe from the vulture culture
Fueling an anger that stirs the rage monster
Who then in turn wakes the violence that likes to linger
One v one they're barley a threat to boil over
The one benefit found for getting older
They can be handled in short order
But together they can alter a future
I acknowledge the fact it's part of my character
And work to recognize each trigger better
Enabling myself to be my own mediator
So I can step in-between me and myself quicker
It was all just, once again, too little too late,
I missed the transition from raging river
To city sewer
Instead of shooting a flare in the air I dropped anchor in danger
The last bridge I let smolder after traversing over
Was the only bridge out of my hell,
A sobering thing to remember only after realizing there was never going to be a true winner

©2024
Falling Up Apr 16
I simmer in the anger
It surrounds me and
Brings life to a boil
Stretches the rubber band
Pulls back on the string of the bow
Hits the bottom of the bungee jump
Gets ready to fire the catapult

And SNAP

It leaves in red hot flashes burning with built up resentment
It snaps and cuts and hurts the innocent
Rather than the stokers of the fire
It slashes and leaves hollow emptiness
In a space once burning with the desire to
Scream
Yell
Lash
Hate
Thunder

A space burning to let go.
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