Submissions by Ghost223 (The Midnight Poet)

Every night, I see this scene, like a song played on repeat.
During the day, you’re there to wipe my tears.
In this month alone, I’ve smiled many times to the beat
Of your heart. You’ve banished many fears.

In this time, we’ve been through a bit, but adventures await.
In this time, we have to stay alive together; we have to stand
Against the beast called Death, standing at the gate
To Hell. We can do it! We’re taking over this land.

For us, the throne, we will be crowned.
King and Queen of the darkest of dark places.
We’ll rule...

It’s not going to be okay.
I’m not okay.
Either I can keep up this façade
Or I can let everything loose.
I know you can see my depression seeping out little by little in
Anger.
Sadness.
Fear.
Every emotion is magnified ten times over.
That’s just the beginning.
Depression is not an emotion.
Sadness is an emotion.
You see,
Depression is an embodiment of the soul.
First it surrounds you, then it collapses in on you.
It targets you like a heat-seeking missile.
Depression fills you completely.
I know for a fact...

You write such beautiful, angry words,
imagining wonders into existence.
You cut this page into neat, even thirds,
making your cookie-cutter stanzas consistent.

It's no longer about loving you, is it?
You just want it all. You just want the world.
You're waiting for your paper heart to sit
calmly, but the pen in your hand leaves it swirled

Writing this letter to yourself
is like waiting for rain to fall in a drought.
You took her knife off the shelf,
but your paper heart remembers what love is about.

Fire
This heat rages deep within us, wild and free.
We don’t know what surrounds us like a glove
Or what fuels it, or even what it could be.
How do we know for sure that this is love?

I want this to be love, I know you can tell,
But I want to make sure this will inspire
You to forever keep me under your spell.
Should we ever try to tame this fire?

Water
This spell flows deep within us, long and wide.
We don’t know what keeps us going up stream
Or where we’ll wind up, or if it’s worth the ride,
But we know we’ll keep...

Watching through a shattered window, a man witnessed a fight.
A fight in a family broken and bent, thinking that they're alright.
 
Through this shattered window, distorted figures began to pace
Up the hall, in the living room, by a table with cloth of lace.
 
The lace pulled back from a corner of this dark-cured table,
Four lines, white, lie perfectly still, perfectly still as grains are able.
 
Four lines, each six inches, concentric to the blade of a knife,
Picked up as a threat, by a large man, screaming against his son’s life. ...