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I may be onto something new,
I put it all into everything I'm told (I'd) do,
But always in the end you stand there
Telling me where I have been, where
I intend to be, and then that I will never be
Free. Should have been careful from the start,
Though in life we are all walking in the dark,
You had to put up with my bitter judgement,
While I had to give you my second
-Yet very last red cent.

And still you say I complain to much,
Give me a pail I will fill it with water
But bringing it back you would never trust,
It's a lot of work but in the end,
I know you'd still secretly take a drink, my "friend!"

I told you everything I know,
Yet safely-at arms length-your gifts bestow,
I guess in the end it's no surprise
It was me who was telling all of your
Modern lies.
In the end when I'm done writing my life's poem I guess I've always gotta go, so there's no point to even taking what I earned for myself, now is there?

It's always too late from the start, isn't it?
leo arden Aug 2019
let him sing his song of sorrow

for chance his joy return tomorrow.

for chance his joy forsake his life,

he’ll tell himself he shall be saved

by love returned, and free from strife,

but naïve he shall remain, enslaved.
let him sing.
What slave have I become!
Embracing servitude,
Desire no rebellion,
Please! O, my will! Succumb!
To her, with gratitude,
Besides Beauty, there’s none.

I vow to cede control,
No action beyond me,
Beauty is my master!
I’ve no need for my soul,
Beauty, I cede to thee
Fortune or disaster!

Liberty is worthless!
My eyes must stir the heart!
Why live, and not seek you?
I publicly confess,
To Beauty, to Astarte,
You command all I do.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Samuel Canerday Sep 2018
Snared, and fettered
Chained to hope eternal
Freedom is waiting
Just there, you see
Around the corner it lies
And when the sun streams down
In a glorious display of dawn
On the wanting faces of the broken
They will cry out as one

May fire scorch the wicked
And return the world to ash
Sara Kellie Jun 2018
The head fuckery of societies rules.
The indoctrination in our schools
has led to the homeless on our streets while politicians count their seats.
The privileged few, too rich to mention
fail to reveal their true intention.

The NHS setup to break by psychopaths all on the take.
Big business stripped of all its gold,
no pension funds left for the old.
Big pharma, they don't miss a trick,
they're making you & I feel sick.
They push the pills that ring the tills
even though they know it kills.

With the best advice and greatest will
our kids are on **** & fentanyl.
While we're divided black & white,
we'd never stand up to their might
So take your neighbour, hold their hand and together we'll reclaim our land.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Utopia is a planet with no borders & free movement of a free people.
Araoluwa Jacob Jun 2018
I am so calm
As calm as the ocean at night
As calm as I could ever be
I am calm because I am mad
mad at the fact that my heart aches
i cannot express my emotion
my inevitable situation kills me
slowly enough to destroy me
making me break pieces by pieces
and become a shattered memory of the world
people would see my pieces and step on me
those pieces are of no use no more
they have been as calm as they could ever be.
Now they are shattered because of the inevitable pain they are feeling
The pain of a sick horse.
the pain of an eagle whose wing are broken
the pain of a mother during labor.
A hurt child. an abandoned beauty.
A flawless person whose name is flaw.
the pain is so unbearable that i have been shattered.
with nobody to reach out to
they left me in this agony
i still feel spite even when I'm in pieces.
My world of breakable hope and dissatified pain is reaching out to me with chains.
chains that i Can't break from
Abigail Fischer May 2018
I don’t write right,
I don’t speak neat,
I write what I speak,
Leaving error for unique,
I don’t care to be fair,
And fair isn’t there,
In the battle of scare or be scared,
I fear the fears,
Fears that encapture slow,
Slow and arrogant,
To put on a snare and show,
Slow is nasty,
Nasty is the only thing I see,
In the world of winning,
I don’t write for you,
I don’t write to read,
Don’t tell me I write wrong,
These words are wrote to be freed,
Not for your benefit,
Yet you still convince my mind,
There is something wrong,
Wrong to be kind,
Wrong to be in need,
But I’m not listening,
Grab my pitchfork,
Grab moreso the pen,
Write from the hell,
Find it within and carve the shell,
Hide it within a sin,
And watch the world it’s emerged in.
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