That DayI remember the wind in the treesThat Day3 years ago in Free Verse
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It blew through them like a whistle of you
That day, was the first that I cried for the wind
It's whispering bluster spoke to me
"A baby is crying out there."
And some where, a baby is crying
That day, was the day I first cried for that child
I cried because you were like a tornado
Everything about you radiated power, and sucked people into you
Into the debris of hate, lust, pain, and fear
I was nothing but a glass bottle, shattering into smaller pieces that could never reform
That day, was the day I first cried for the pieces of me.
Pieces most people think I have back
I can tell, in their smiles how far they think I've come
And I suppose I have wondered a journey to recovery
I journeyed down 5 grueling years of prayers, pills, and pointless chat therapy
To the degree that it can, my journey worked, forming back most of my shattered self
That was the last day I cried for myself
I no longer cried because I no longer had tears to shed
Bitterness has fled
treesi guess my trouble with the idea of reality that i've gained recently is that nothing is real except the collection of things i am surrounded by at a given moment, and that nothing else exists.trees4 years ago in Free Verse
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when you realize that everything is the same matter, and you stop distinguishing objects from one another as you normally would,
then bring yourself down to the level of all matter,
you realize that your thoughts are just a grouping of thoughts.
if you can stop identifying with them, you see yourself as the same thing as everything around you.
if there is no longer a reason to identify yourself with your body, why not say that you are everything?
looking out the window,
seeing the trees, grass, flowers,
then realizing you are all essentially one,
you can become them.
the leaves on a tree, the flower petals, the dead ones on the ground, the dirt they grow in and decay into.
the same things you and i are made of.
the only meaning we have left of "i" is our thoughts; the only thing we ever truly we
HauntedI gaze around this room. There's never less, never more. The orderly peeks in again, and I pretend to sleep. He makes sure I'm breathing still. These constant incursions would drive me crazy, if I wasn't there already. I can't blame them for checking. I don't want to be here. I don't want...to be. They took everything away from me; everything to cut or gouge or squeeze. All that's left is the pain; the twisting, the wrenching, the empty. That's all that's left of me. "A B C D E F G
"Haunted3 years ago in Free Verse
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I don't see an end, but I remember how it started. How betrayal and naïveté would leave me here to die, without remorse, or the batting of an eye. I'm seventeen, and I was so far ahead. I exceeded every expectation, blew through hurdles in my wake. I had it all in front of me, a future bright for all to see. Though my daddy said I wasn't his; drew lines throughout my memory. A beautiful boy said he loved me. My knight, my heart, my everything. He promised me eternity. I trusted him with all