Poetry competition CLOSED 18th February 2015 8:43pm
WINNER
Pathospassion (c.d.latin)
Pathospassion (c.d.latin)
RUNNERS-UP:
Kou_Indigo
and case28
What Makes You Sad
When you..love
When you love someone an yet they don't you. You want to cry, rip your heart out hoping it would hurt less, be mean, go cold, or just turn around an say no more. Because it hurt more than to say what you really feel. You just rub it off saying "I'm use to it" . Then you go home sit in your bed. Wondering this is the life I led. I been threw so much why must I go threw more. An just when your foot right out that door. You realize "who am I anymore"
When you love someone an yet they don't you. You want to cry, rip your heart out hoping it would hurt less, be mean, go cold, or just turn around an say no more. Because it hurt more than to say what you really feel. You just rub it off saying "I'm use to it" . Then you go home sit in your bed. Wondering this is the life I led. I been threw so much why must I go threw more. An just when your foot right out that door. You realize "who am I anymore"
A Moment In Time
The electricity shut off
in the darkened apartment
roaches scuttling here and there
a poignant reminder
that the lady of the house
has long since checked out.
Hungry she goes to the fridge
once, twice, three times
just to get lost in her mind.
Stripped of her family and dignity
she removes her clothing and steps outside
rubs herself in mud hoping this will cleanse her.
Finally the men in white come and take her away
strap her to a table as she screams obscenties
as she struggles against her restraints
screaming to both heaven and hell to anyone who will hear her.
Poison dripping in her veins
she flows in and out of consciousness
later she is released to the ward
where she is warned the walls have ears.
She has dreams of her family
just awaiting her release
as she starts to come out of the haze
she completely shuts down knowing this is only a dream.
Just wanting to go home and find her family whole
only to be released to find it in pieces
insanity no longer a place to shelter
this is a moment in time in the life of a schizophrenic.
(True Story a Piece Of My Life)
The electricity shut off
in the darkened apartment
roaches scuttling here and there
a poignant reminder
that the lady of the house
has long since checked out.
Hungry she goes to the fridge
once, twice, three times
just to get lost in her mind.
Stripped of her family and dignity
she removes her clothing and steps outside
rubs herself in mud hoping this will cleanse her.
Finally the men in white come and take her away
strap her to a table as she screams obscenties
as she struggles against her restraints
screaming to both heaven and hell to anyone who will hear her.
Poison dripping in her veins
she flows in and out of consciousness
later she is released to the ward
where she is warned the walls have ears.
She has dreams of her family
just awaiting her release
as she starts to come out of the haze
she completely shuts down knowing this is only a dream.
Just wanting to go home and find her family whole
only to be released to find it in pieces
insanity no longer a place to shelter
this is a moment in time in the life of a schizophrenic.
(True Story a Piece Of My Life)
- Sorrow Amongst the Birchwood -
My carriage rode this night past some old quaint lands,
With forests of white birch tall and slender in the dusk.
I saw places both familiar to me, and yet so changed…
That I knew time had passed, so many passing sands.
Old cornfields, now cold and lifeless; not a single husk:
That not so long ago, children played in and oft ranged!
Lost in thoughts of yesteryear, thinking of lonely hours,
Spent waiting for some love, some change in destiny…
I wait still, and fear that madness will rise from waiting.
My tears fell, weeping for lost innocence, faded flowers!
And a heart that yearns, for so much more, in dignity…
I cannot wait forever and I fear I will die of anticipating.
Should I have been another woman, born in other days!
Or is it enough simply that I be the best lady that I am?
More pious than any monk, this lady so faithfully prays,
For a love sweeter even, than the sweetest jellied jam.
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
I still see those white birch trees in my mind's own eye!
As they looked of old, spread out across the mountains.
Now only a forest remains, the trees lonely just like me!
I miss the warmth, of a simple touch, and for that I cry,
Even as I pass the old places where flowed fountains…
Born from springs of rock and stone, babbling gracefully.
I am just a lady, once something more, hoping for love…
But hope alone cannot sustain me; I need that warmth!
Lips to kiss, a hand to hold, a voice to whisper poetry…
I have prayed to gods and spirits, and all angels above,
Seeking, searching, as long gone have become months.
The wind blows cold, the snows fall, and not too subtly!
Should I have walked a different path down other ways!
Or is it enough simply, that I not veer from where I go…
Lest I wander too far, like a sheep that to a wolf strays?
For love calls to me, and I confess that I long for her so.
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
What will be my springtime, if more loneliness I endure!
Who shall I dance in the meadows with, heart carefree?
And who shall watch with me the setting of the far sun…
Is there no one, in all: the world, who will take my hand?
Can it be that hope is as scarce that the old birch tree…
But nay, I am resolved to hope as a quest that is begun.
Is my cause so impossible, that no power can do ease...
To my broken heart and tormented soul, with fair good?
I ask so little, and yet I may as well be asking far more!
Before love itself I bow and humbly utter simply please.
Forsake me not, and let not my heart harden as wood…
I tire of the long wait, as a soldier: tires quickly of a war!
Should I have told some lie, piled jewels upon old trays!
And, bought that love my heart could not gain honestly?
Or are my honest words enough, and worthy of praise…
To reach the heart of a maid, and find her so pleasantly!
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
My carriage rode this night past some old quaint lands,
With forests of white birch tall and slender in the dusk.
I saw places both familiar to me, and yet so changed…
That I knew time had passed, so many passing sands.
Old cornfields, now cold and lifeless; not a single husk:
That not so long ago, children played in and oft ranged!
Lost in thoughts of yesteryear, thinking of lonely hours,
Spent waiting for some love, some change in destiny…
I wait still, and fear that madness will rise from waiting.
My tears fell, weeping for lost innocence, faded flowers!
And a heart that yearns, for so much more, in dignity…
I cannot wait forever and I fear I will die of anticipating.
Should I have been another woman, born in other days!
Or is it enough simply that I be the best lady that I am?
More pious than any monk, this lady so faithfully prays,
For a love sweeter even, than the sweetest jellied jam.
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
I still see those white birch trees in my mind's own eye!
As they looked of old, spread out across the mountains.
Now only a forest remains, the trees lonely just like me!
I miss the warmth, of a simple touch, and for that I cry,
Even as I pass the old places where flowed fountains…
Born from springs of rock and stone, babbling gracefully.
I am just a lady, once something more, hoping for love…
But hope alone cannot sustain me; I need that warmth!
Lips to kiss, a hand to hold, a voice to whisper poetry…
I have prayed to gods and spirits, and all angels above,
Seeking, searching, as long gone have become months.
The wind blows cold, the snows fall, and not too subtly!
Should I have walked a different path down other ways!
Or is it enough simply, that I not veer from where I go…
Lest I wander too far, like a sheep that to a wolf strays?
For love calls to me, and I confess that I long for her so.
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
What will be my springtime, if more loneliness I endure!
Who shall I dance in the meadows with, heart carefree?
And who shall watch with me the setting of the far sun…
Is there no one, in all: the world, who will take my hand?
Can it be that hope is as scarce that the old birch tree…
But nay, I am resolved to hope as a quest that is begun.
Is my cause so impossible, that no power can do ease...
To my broken heart and tormented soul, with fair good?
I ask so little, and yet I may as well be asking far more!
Before love itself I bow and humbly utter simply please.
Forsake me not, and let not my heart harden as wood…
I tire of the long wait, as a soldier: tires quickly of a war!
Should I have told some lie, piled jewels upon old trays!
And, bought that love my heart could not gain honestly?
Or are my honest words enough, and worthy of praise…
To reach the heart of a maid, and find her so pleasantly!
My heart is all I have to give; my soul is all I am.
Can you love me just as much; can you love this woman?
- Night of Sorrows -
Prologue: Silent Tears
You cannot hear my weeping just from written verse…
But the heartbreak I have suffered in life, does compel,
My hand to pen what I must, for I feel like I will burst!
There are moments when it seems this world is a hell…
And those who ever hurt me must then be the damned.
Within me lies my innocence, the joys they try to steal,
The song I strive to sing as if it were a divine command.
I must not be silenced, and I must show how I do feel!
So I sing on, even through the depths of my sadness…
I pluck my lyre, and my music becomes a dear prayer.
Why is it sometimes so difficult, to embrace gladness?
It is because life sometimes hurts us until we beware…
Fearing the harm, we wonder if we can ever be happy.
I too wonder as only a true warrior queen can ponder!
But I know that my soul is safe, and retains its’ dignity.
Tonight I shall not slumber, let words be my thunder…
And let the truth of my heart, be the sword I do wield!
This night of sorrows has not the power to destroy me.
I bear the light within me wherein its’ flame is sealed…
Those who would wound me are blind and cannot see,
That: their words cannot break my will, my great shield.
Part One: Wretched Souls
This night, the owl did cry and my tears fell most hard,
Like rivers forming into seas, that cry my lamentations.
I am forsaken, called a harlot when I am a gentle bard,
And only the crickets join me in this eve’s celebrations.
What caused my sorrow was the sting of ugly words…
Spoken by a cruel soul who understands not my heart.
That one bellows, still, like the harsh call of blackbirds!
Even as I write, trying to ease the pain, of every dart…
Thrown at me from the mouth of one who is truly cold.
That I once called her like a mother to me, with caring,
Makes her hatred of me as worthless as is rotting mold.
Even that horrible image is more graceful in comparing,
Than that corrupt person, that hypocrite of wicked sin!
Even those who fell from Heaven at least have honor…
She has none and I must ignore her bigoted, noisy din.
Can she even fathom, the old wounds she makes stir?
Like a mad dog she is, constantly barking and panting.
Let animals be animals then, and I shall be above they,
Who have degenerated: far from love by evil ranting…
Until I can see utter darkness, and it blots out the day!
So many wretched souls exist in Earth’s dark corners,
That take enjoyment from the suffering that they enact.
Such ones will pass without joyful fanfare or mourners,
For their sick heaven, was in savoring every cruel act!
I despise such evil, for I have been victimized so often…
Bullied and pushed, prodded and driven unto breaking,
By they: who would rather I be laid down into a coffin.
But I have survived; my life is not theirs, for the taking!
Part Two: Gentle Music
I try to create a paradise within the dark, an Elysium…
For, even in the midst of Hell, there is such a paradise.
And so I listen to music fit for the Celestial Kingdom…
Whilst it soothes my soul with the most tender device,
That being, the feeling of love that this world so lacks.
A maiden sings, and in her voice is youth, tenderness!
The opposite of those: whose words become attacks.
I was once an angel, but fate can be a cruel mistress…
Let the music play on, for I have sorrows to expunge!
With every note let my spirit journey far from torment.
Even should every devil suddenly, at my throat lunge,
I must remain steady, as is water carried to a torrent!
The fireflies I long to see are not in my garden tonight.
And were it not for the night birds I would now weep,
For this has been a season of hardship devoid of light.
Oh, would that I could just one perfect moment keep!
If I could tear evil from the world, to cut such cancer…
And make all souls filled with their intended goodness,
I would; but there is never in life so easy of an answer.
My spirit is angelic still as I search for my divine bliss!
How many, have I been a guardian for: and a friend…
For some a lover, for others a sister or even a mother!
My whole existence has been a quest that has no end,
But I could not ever turn from it, to take up any other.
This is my fate, to be selfless where all others cannot!
I know that there is no respite on the journey I travel,
So I seek pleasure and serenity in deed and in thought.
Even should the fabric of the universe begin to unravel!
Part Three: Night Prayer
Oh mother night, why can I find no comfort with you?
For though the arms of evening enfold me like a lover…
You cannot ease me, when the old agonies fast ensue.
Yet you try to help me forget so my soul can recover!
Beneath the sparkling stars I can imagine another age,
One in which prejudice does not exist and love reigns.
A good memory, that calms my soul, lessens my rage,
And through its’ virtue allows me to cast off my pains.
Why did the gods tear the wings from my noble back?
I look at their children, those mortals that do wrong…
And in their doings, I see only an abyss emptily black!
I cannot save them, even with my most beautiful song.
People and gods do evil and there is no reason why…
I shall not seek one, for they deserve not my attention.
The wicked, mock divine will, and do true glory defy!
I am not bound either to them or to stifling convention.
Oh mother night I must be strong, for those blessed…
They: having good hearts, kind souls and compassion.
It was for such as they that I, of old, fought and bled!
I shall endure, and try to muster a cheerful expression.
I am a warrior weary of fighting and yet I fight eternal,
A queen without a kingdom, and no crown to wear…
I was a warrior angel, one fallen and become infernal!
Yet I do the right thing, and my knowledge I do share.
Perhaps I suffer, because I feel so deeply, with mercy,
But that is also my salvation, and keeps me most well.
I must continue to stand for freedom, love, and liberty,
Even when all the storm clouds gather: for me to quell.
Prologue: Silent Tears
You cannot hear my weeping just from written verse…
But the heartbreak I have suffered in life, does compel,
My hand to pen what I must, for I feel like I will burst!
There are moments when it seems this world is a hell…
And those who ever hurt me must then be the damned.
Within me lies my innocence, the joys they try to steal,
The song I strive to sing as if it were a divine command.
I must not be silenced, and I must show how I do feel!
So I sing on, even through the depths of my sadness…
I pluck my lyre, and my music becomes a dear prayer.
Why is it sometimes so difficult, to embrace gladness?
It is because life sometimes hurts us until we beware…
Fearing the harm, we wonder if we can ever be happy.
I too wonder as only a true warrior queen can ponder!
But I know that my soul is safe, and retains its’ dignity.
Tonight I shall not slumber, let words be my thunder…
And let the truth of my heart, be the sword I do wield!
This night of sorrows has not the power to destroy me.
I bear the light within me wherein its’ flame is sealed…
Those who would wound me are blind and cannot see,
That: their words cannot break my will, my great shield.
Part One: Wretched Souls
This night, the owl did cry and my tears fell most hard,
Like rivers forming into seas, that cry my lamentations.
I am forsaken, called a harlot when I am a gentle bard,
And only the crickets join me in this eve’s celebrations.
What caused my sorrow was the sting of ugly words…
Spoken by a cruel soul who understands not my heart.
That one bellows, still, like the harsh call of blackbirds!
Even as I write, trying to ease the pain, of every dart…
Thrown at me from the mouth of one who is truly cold.
That I once called her like a mother to me, with caring,
Makes her hatred of me as worthless as is rotting mold.
Even that horrible image is more graceful in comparing,
Than that corrupt person, that hypocrite of wicked sin!
Even those who fell from Heaven at least have honor…
She has none and I must ignore her bigoted, noisy din.
Can she even fathom, the old wounds she makes stir?
Like a mad dog she is, constantly barking and panting.
Let animals be animals then, and I shall be above they,
Who have degenerated: far from love by evil ranting…
Until I can see utter darkness, and it blots out the day!
So many wretched souls exist in Earth’s dark corners,
That take enjoyment from the suffering that they enact.
Such ones will pass without joyful fanfare or mourners,
For their sick heaven, was in savoring every cruel act!
I despise such evil, for I have been victimized so often…
Bullied and pushed, prodded and driven unto breaking,
By they: who would rather I be laid down into a coffin.
But I have survived; my life is not theirs, for the taking!
Part Two: Gentle Music
I try to create a paradise within the dark, an Elysium…
For, even in the midst of Hell, there is such a paradise.
And so I listen to music fit for the Celestial Kingdom…
Whilst it soothes my soul with the most tender device,
That being, the feeling of love that this world so lacks.
A maiden sings, and in her voice is youth, tenderness!
The opposite of those: whose words become attacks.
I was once an angel, but fate can be a cruel mistress…
Let the music play on, for I have sorrows to expunge!
With every note let my spirit journey far from torment.
Even should every devil suddenly, at my throat lunge,
I must remain steady, as is water carried to a torrent!
The fireflies I long to see are not in my garden tonight.
And were it not for the night birds I would now weep,
For this has been a season of hardship devoid of light.
Oh, would that I could just one perfect moment keep!
If I could tear evil from the world, to cut such cancer…
And make all souls filled with their intended goodness,
I would; but there is never in life so easy of an answer.
My spirit is angelic still as I search for my divine bliss!
How many, have I been a guardian for: and a friend…
For some a lover, for others a sister or even a mother!
My whole existence has been a quest that has no end,
But I could not ever turn from it, to take up any other.
This is my fate, to be selfless where all others cannot!
I know that there is no respite on the journey I travel,
So I seek pleasure and serenity in deed and in thought.
Even should the fabric of the universe begin to unravel!
Part Three: Night Prayer
Oh mother night, why can I find no comfort with you?
For though the arms of evening enfold me like a lover…
You cannot ease me, when the old agonies fast ensue.
Yet you try to help me forget so my soul can recover!
Beneath the sparkling stars I can imagine another age,
One in which prejudice does not exist and love reigns.
A good memory, that calms my soul, lessens my rage,
And through its’ virtue allows me to cast off my pains.
Why did the gods tear the wings from my noble back?
I look at their children, those mortals that do wrong…
And in their doings, I see only an abyss emptily black!
I cannot save them, even with my most beautiful song.
People and gods do evil and there is no reason why…
I shall not seek one, for they deserve not my attention.
The wicked, mock divine will, and do true glory defy!
I am not bound either to them or to stifling convention.
Oh mother night I must be strong, for those blessed…
They: having good hearts, kind souls and compassion.
It was for such as they that I, of old, fought and bled!
I shall endure, and try to muster a cheerful expression.
I am a warrior weary of fighting and yet I fight eternal,
A queen without a kingdom, and no crown to wear…
I was a warrior angel, one fallen and become infernal!
Yet I do the right thing, and my knowledge I do share.
Perhaps I suffer, because I feel so deeply, with mercy,
But that is also my salvation, and keeps me most well.
I must continue to stand for freedom, love, and liberty,
Even when all the storm clouds gather: for me to quell.
I sit with my list of wishes,
Or should I say my dreams and aspiration.
All efforts boil down to futility,
All ending in endless frustration.
So I'm just a made up story,
A mask to cover shame,
As everything I'm nutured to inspire,
Unfulfilled remain.
What more can one hope for in this life,
When all it brings is travails,
It makes you smile at night,
And at dawn you wail.
I search for solace and comfort,
Even where I expect only a shadow of it,
Yet,there's nothing left for me,
Except a broken spirit.
Tomorrow won't seem so far,
If there's one with whom to share,
To find a shoulder to lean on,
Someone who truly cares.
But it's only mean mugs and cold stares,
Scornful eyes looking in disgust,
With so much indifference and hatred out there,
Sometimes I wish I went back to dust.
In that earthly embrace,
Tears fully drained by oblivion,
No thoughts,no wishes and no feelings,
Eternally slumber on.
But until then it seems,
I'm an animal in a stable,
Gloom is nothing new;
When you're miserably miserable.
Or should I say my dreams and aspiration.
All efforts boil down to futility,
All ending in endless frustration.
So I'm just a made up story,
A mask to cover shame,
As everything I'm nutured to inspire,
Unfulfilled remain.
What more can one hope for in this life,
When all it brings is travails,
It makes you smile at night,
And at dawn you wail.
I search for solace and comfort,
Even where I expect only a shadow of it,
Yet,there's nothing left for me,
Except a broken spirit.
Tomorrow won't seem so far,
If there's one with whom to share,
To find a shoulder to lean on,
Someone who truly cares.
But it's only mean mugs and cold stares,
Scornful eyes looking in disgust,
With so much indifference and hatred out there,
Sometimes I wish I went back to dust.
In that earthly embrace,
Tears fully drained by oblivion,
No thoughts,no wishes and no feelings,
Eternally slumber on.
But until then it seems,
I'm an animal in a stable,
Gloom is nothing new;
When you're miserably miserable.
thinking about my life.
where so many people have left me,
just after they said they loved me,
that its become normal.
'im used to it'
not having a distraction from my own mind.
it tells me to just give up.
they tell me i dont mean anything.
'im fine'
thinking about those that havnt left me yet.
theyd be devastated, but they shouldnt.
i dont deserve their affection anyway.
'dont leave'
thinking about the scars, the tears, the insecurities,
of how im just wanted for my body,
of the world and how itd be better off without me
'im toxic..
dont love me..'
where so many people have left me,
just after they said they loved me,
that its become normal.
'im used to it'
not having a distraction from my own mind.
it tells me to just give up.
they tell me i dont mean anything.
'im fine'
thinking about those that havnt left me yet.
theyd be devastated, but they shouldnt.
i dont deserve their affection anyway.
'dont leave'
thinking about the scars, the tears, the insecurities,
of how im just wanted for my body,
of the world and how itd be better off without me
'im toxic..
dont love me..'
Throwing Curves:
For Whom The Belle Views
rumors
and rumors of
engineered tumors
bio-genetics
produced by their
groomers
irony
begets irony
the stacking of decks
downside of paranoia
creating nervous wrecks
the present
the precedent and
how it defines the past
as the integration of gentrification
cracks wise with
a blast
who knew the voodoo would come through
emanating with its own bombast
how the sting of the
unseen has
taken many
to task
the
wonder and
wonderment of
how long it’ll last
might be flight or fight
depending on
whom you
ask..
question of class?
white doctor lives in a locker?
quarantined in his Harlem flat?
how much of this is fiction
fake shun or.. fact?
like the
settling of
native lands
by dissimilar ethnic groups
how commonality
of community
how it used to chill on Harlem stoops
now it’s the “A” train to Ebola strain
weaving.. roaring through our roots
live long enough, and
boned enough
you’ll see we’ve all
been dupes
Anonymous
RELICS
I lay in the casket of your broken heart
The relic rain sang a song of solitude
Moonlight sailed the stolen sea
Sailed the ovary of blinding stars
Their light purified me
I lay in the casket of your broken heart
The relic rain sang a song of solitude
Moonlight sailed the stolen sea
Sailed the ovary of blinding stars
Their light purified me
Someone save me ! extreme content !
Kill me, i need to die. It hurts to live a life full of lies. Holding tight to all the fails, praying it don’t brake on me. Im bleeding slowly on the inside hoping one day to be free from all these lies. Is it just a dream, is it all in my head. Help me! Help me! Somebody! I cant take this insanity any more. Help me, help me! Because... Im slowly dying on this floor. Under all these lies im drowning on my own blood inside. Save me save me! I cant take it anymore. Kill me! Im dying, dying, dying. Dose anyone hear me? Please... Save me
Kill me, i need to die. It hurts to live a life full of lies. Holding tight to all the fails, praying it don’t brake on me. Im bleeding slowly on the inside hoping one day to be free from all these lies. Is it just a dream, is it all in my head. Help me! Help me! Somebody! I cant take this insanity any more. Help me, help me! Because... Im slowly dying on this floor. Under all these lies im drowning on my own blood inside. Save me save me! I cant take it anymore. Kill me! Im dying, dying, dying. Dose anyone hear me? Please... Save me
Grieving...
I'm grieving
For the person I grew to know
but never knew
For the tenderness I thought was there
but never was
For the hope that something may grow
But never will
I'll never know what changed on that
fateful night
When I started to fall in love
and you withdrew
This grieving goes beyond what's here
I'm grieving a dream that will never be...
A reality
I'm grieving
For the person I grew to know
but never knew
For the tenderness I thought was there
but never was
For the hope that something may grow
But never will
I'll never know what changed on that
fateful night
When I started to fall in love
and you withdrew
This grieving goes beyond what's here
I'm grieving a dream that will never be...
A reality
madeline [hun... please, don't read this one]
positive sign
two smiles
double lines
spotting
hesitant assurance
certain expectancy
birth of our false hope
natural conception
instant connection
umbilical elation
feeds our disbelief
gut feeling
her internal insight
a mother’s intuition that
something is not right
weekly testing
waiting daily
sleepless hours
holding
comforting
life vessel caress
godless
breathless
praying for a miracle
second trimester
more torturous than the first
questioned daily
unknown uncertainties
little room to hide
her small belly
cold smear
sonic eye looks inside
black and white static
ultra-soundless
stillness
beat-less
if only I could find the words
to sooth her silence
spotting
heavy bleeding
porcelain cradle
vacant womb
her still life
our madeline
Written by Alexander Case
positive sign
two smiles
double lines
spotting
hesitant assurance
certain expectancy
birth of our false hope
natural conception
instant connection
umbilical elation
feeds our disbelief
gut feeling
her internal insight
a mother’s intuition that
something is not right
weekly testing
waiting daily
sleepless hours
holding
comforting
life vessel caress
godless
breathless
praying for a miracle
second trimester
more torturous than the first
questioned daily
unknown uncertainties
little room to hide
her small belly
cold smear
sonic eye looks inside
black and white static
ultra-soundless
stillness
beat-less
if only I could find the words
to sooth her silence
spotting
heavy bleeding
porcelain cradle
vacant womb
her still life
our madeline
Written by Alexander Case
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Mom..
We'd Spend Weekends together,
I'd Give Anything to See Her Smile,
Or Even Hear Her Laugh for awhile,
To see her beautiful brown eyes,
One Day She Told me She was Sick,
I went to Visit Her, and It Broke My Heart, Tore Me Apart,
Pale, Sick.
and Me, Losing My Mom,
She Said She'd be Fine!
She Said She wasn't gonna Die!
She said that She was Gonna Fight.
and She wasn't Gonna Leave.
I'd do Anything to go Back in Time,
to See Her Smile,
She Said Everything would be Alright, and That I had to be Strong.
I told her to fight. That She Promised She Wouldn't Die.
and Now I spend Nights, Holding a Knife, Wishing It was My Life Instead of Hers
We'd Spend Weekends together,
I'd Give Anything to See Her Smile,
Or Even Hear Her Laugh for awhile,
To see her beautiful brown eyes,
One Day She Told me She was Sick,
I went to Visit Her, and It Broke My Heart, Tore Me Apart,
Pale, Sick.
and Me, Losing My Mom,
She Said She'd be Fine!
She Said She wasn't gonna Die!
She said that She was Gonna Fight.
and She wasn't Gonna Leave.
I'd do Anything to go Back in Time,
to See Her Smile,
She Said Everything would be Alright, and That I had to be Strong.
I told her to fight. That She Promised She Wouldn't Die.
and Now I spend Nights, Holding a Knife, Wishing It was My Life Instead of Hers
