Posts
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Mountain of Sorrow and Grief
Hand over hand.
One foot, then the other.
Climbing this mountain
Of sorrow and grief.
Desperately trying
To reach its snowy peaks.
You start at the bottom.
Then work your way up.
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My Empty Shell
Darkness seeps in.
Consuming and destroying.
Leaving nothing behind.
Just an empty shell.
My empty shell.
I feel nothing.
It's as though I am sleepwalking.
It's as though I am already dead.
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My Name In a Nutshell
Humbly giving everything and taking nothing.
Under foot, in the way, but never trying to be.
Never good enough for myself, no matter what.
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Disassociating
I am floating.
Not anchored in my body.
I cannot focus.
I cannot think.
They do not see how distant I am.
We're supposed to be watching a video, but I can't.
My eyes don't see.
My ears don't hear.
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The War In My Head
Shut up.
Shut up.
The voices get louder.
A million people that do not exist outside of my head.
They tell me things.
They make me do things.
I have no way to fight them.
I can’t get a single word in.
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My Voice
A million words fight to break free.
So many, that I cannot speak.
I try and I try, but it doesn’t matter.
I am mute, my voice lost to this world.
I have so many things to say.
So many emotions to convey.
Loves
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Who will speak at the earth’s funeral?
Even if was never
About legacy
Your memory
Cannot mean nothing
Your family
Should remember you
And admittedly
No matter what we say
This
Is true.
So whoWill speak
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Bonds
Two creatures
inseparable
a bond stronger than that of two people;
returning to the comfort of the other
even after time has passed.
There for the other
stronger together
weakened alone
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The waterfall of the east
Far to the east
The waterfall flows
A wellspring of life
As everyone knows
Beneath the cliffs
It washes away strife
Bringing to hearts
A joyous light
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Of, By, For, To
Part One: “Of the People”
Let a symphony of voices form a cacophony so loud
God themselves won’t be able to ignore our
grief, our
sorrow; the shattered fragments of our hearts
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Dissociation
Nighttime hits like a truck. Sleep is far from your grasp, and the skin under your eyes wilt.
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A Yellow Violet
Her name was Violet,
but she always wore yellow.
I spied her from across the room as I hesitated in the sun-framed doorway, and she was beautiful.