She walks as though her spine had been snapped in two And no amount of surgery will ever set it right. She smiles as though a slight bump would send it crashing to the floor, A frailness, only held by those who are dying, Or maybe, those who are already dead. Because yes there is many types of death, Death of the body and death of the soul. Death of the body being as straight forward as your boss when you are caught stealing from the register. Death of the soul being a slow bleeding thing that cuts you while forcing you to swallow its poison; And I can see that her soul had died a long time ago. Maybe it was when she remembered all the times

Take Another Pill by CloudNumber8, literature

Literature

Take Another Pill

When I was just a child About twenty years back I never would have thought I would turn out like that Or indeed like this If I speak in the present tense I guess I’m tense in the present If that makes any sense When I was at the mercy Of the medical profession They told me I was suffering With clinical depression And tapestries woven this tight Into such an infant mind Would be difficult to unspool Unthread and leave behind When I was just a boy Around ten or so years back I fell into a deep hole But it felt more like a trap I couldn’t get out of there In fact I’m stuck here still And all anyone can do Is to prescribe anot

Drip Drop, Tick Tock by Sapphire-Rose15, literature

Literature

Drip Drop, Tick Tock

Drip Drop, Drip Drop Tears are falling to the ground Drip Drop, Drip Drop People leaving all around Tick Tock, Tick Tock The clock is now counting down Tick Tock, Tick Tock Until you're lying face down Drip Drop, Drip Drop Blood flows down, make no sound Drip Drop, Drip Drop Pain at height, wound round and round Tick Tock, Tick Tock Everyone watches with no dread Tick Tock, Tick Tock As you lay there, bleeding and dead.

A World Seen In Black by OgiSH, literature

Literature

A World Seen In Black

Anger, hate, feelings of despair. Worthless degenerates whose heads are full of air. Trash, worthless, people with no remorse. We try and try and try, but it is useless of course. We who are beaten down, We who try our hardest. The biggest hearts, the bloodiest arms. We have the most kindness, but we are treated the worst. Depression, Pain, the tone sounds. Yet another night falls, our cries rebound. The night brings terror, the dark brings fear. We can never escape the death of which we hear. Night is hard, our sleep is null. Nothing we do ever brings us peace. We curl up and cry, we curl up and die. Regretting how we interact, how genuin

I will love you by psycho-magic-mouse, literature

Literature

I will love you

Clap your hands if you believe That sometimes hope is a lie But sometimes lies are better than the truth Raise your hand if you understand That sometimes words that need to be said Hurt too much to voice And a touch will have to work instead Reach out to me if you feel Like you're drifting Like you're lost Like you're broken Take my hand if you need to If you cannot stand on your own If you cannot see through the darkness Pull your hand away if you must If you cannot trust a stranger If you have no more faith to hold out If you simply lack the strength to reach And I will hold your hand instead.

I Am Out Of Words by spuffin, literature

Literature

I Am Out Of Words

I am running out of words All those poems I flung out at a whim Sad little stirrings I used to pretend were once feelings Palpitations of a weak hearted boy Hoping to stand in the shoes of a man Dreaming of the next time I can get behind of the wheel of my car And just aimlessly float down roads and streets The lights of the city blending into one hell of a freak show And once again I find myself closed off in my room Bottling up unwanted emotions Sealing them back behind an emotional dam that rivals hoover And I am siting at the base My fingers jammed knuckle deep in the cracks Praying that I am just imagining the leaks Leaks that spray mur

War Wound by Zark123, literature

Literature

War Wound

there's a war wound in my chest that I cradle in my heart and nurse it with parables but, it never, never grows up. sometimes I feed it vanities, a glass of Scotch or two but in the morning's residue it reflects no summer truths. there's a war wound in my chest which sought shelter in my soul now it lies as an attic masterpiece for the years to unfold the colours have aged with me rubric to rust to puce and this work of art upon my heart is but for the artist's eyes. there's a war wound in my chest which fell our company but I who saw the shot and shell, know it well indeed. for he assigned us nameless, no rank, no

The Fragile Color by Jambalya, literature

Literature

The Fragile Color

White is the color of my afflictions, and white is my thought; with each and every experience - some brown, some gray, some just like white, but not quite - the thought is fractured and spanses of reason are distanced. Yes, white is the color of my afflictions, that every thought - however perfect - should be dispersed by a blow of wind in blue, or a drop of sable rain, or every red, orange, green, blue, or cyan pain. White is the color of my afflictions, because it is so fragile and still, and any movement, any sound, any reality, can break my afflictions - like captives - free.

Seeing Red by psycho-magic-mouse, literature

Literature

Seeing Red

Sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself. I can't tell you I'm angry. I can't speak at all. My throat closes, my chest tightens, My fists clench and I can't even type. My eyes shut and the world goes red With the light through my eyelids And the rage in my heart. I don't shout or scream. I don't flinch. There's no angry tears, No outward signs. And when I open my eyes again, You see them as blue. But I'm still seeing red.

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