I built an altar in the hollow of my chest,
And carved your name in bone where beating used to rest.
I light the candles with the fever of my plea,
But you are blind to every flame that burns alive in me.
You drink the water from the well I bled to fill,
And leave me parched and shivering upon a silent hill.
I am a ghost that haunts the edges of your sight,
A moth that turns to ash against your unregarding light.
I stitched my skin into a carpet for your feet,
And count the heavy bruises as a victory, bitter-sweet.
You take the warmth, the breath, the marrow from my spine,
And never once acknowledge that the sacrifice was mine.
So let me rot inside this beautiful decay,
A quiet shadow that you’ll never brush away.
I am the heavy earth you walk upon without a care,
Condemned to love a phantom who was never really there.
Death is not the enemy you believe
And death isn't what you should fear
Death we all shall truly desire
For only death makes troubles disappear
Death is not some fancy illusion
Full of smoke and mirrors to deceive
Death offers to relieve your troubles
And will accept all it can receive
With death there's no worries or regrets
Any wrong or mistakes they slip away
They all vanish and bother you no more
There's hardly any cost you must pay
What death offers no one can match
Nothing else can do what death can do
You want peacefulness to fill your life
Isn't the cemetary peaceful to you
I tried to heal my open wounds
I always seem to feel
They've gone away
But the scars still remain
And the ones on my heart
Will never heal
They wear me down
Tear me apart
I grieve for my old self
When the only pain I felt was a scraped knee
I wish I was okay
But I never will be
So I pretend
And wonder when it will end
But I’ll be fine
I always am
But I keep trying to heal
To feel real
And maybe im not
Wake up
School
Sleep
Just like clock work
It never changes
Never ends
I wonder what would happen
If i were to leap
Off the edge
But i wont
Ill never try
Ill never take the leap
To end my life
I love myself
And thats no lie
So why would i
Say goodbye
But i dont love life
And ive tried
Ive tried
Ive tried
Ive tried
But you can love yourself
And still try to fly
She's a girl in a pretty veil.
She dresses herself in blossoms,
treasures those little daisies.
But I see her, soiled,
in a resplendent turmoil.
She's exultant
in a catastrophe.
I would clasp her hand
and run past this dismal truth.
But she has long kept me
her prisoner—
A deity,
one she'd never offer glory to.
She's a winner,
the vanquisher.
And yet all she ever flaunted
were her ruptures before me.
She lives her days in summer,
yet yearns for a long-lost winter.
She cherished daisies,
now she has only ever liked orchids,
the ones that bloom in blue.
She dons her pearl cloak,
yet ruins slip past her pearls.
She's vigorous
within a melancholy,
terrified it might perish.
Twigs are thin and easy to break
But once broken you'll know it's too late
You can’t fix it so don't try I’m fine so don’t cry you can't fix me
I've been broken, my hearts been stolen.
Then stomped on and thrown away.
Some pieces are lost. Others are gone
I’m numb inside. It's all pretend.
Sometimes I wish It all would end.
Don't shed your tears for me. Don't say goodbye
Sometimes I wish I could fly
Fly away from every thing fly from earth fly from pain from all the hurt
Go to heaven And feel no pain
See golden gates And then I pray
To not wake when I sleep
For him to take the pain and not me
But god never answered the prayers I cried
So the devil did and I tried to take my life
It didn't work and pained me to no end
I tried to better myself but it never worked until today
Now all my pain has gone away There's still an ache
Just not as strong. The holes in my heart are filled with love
I realized I don't need a boy to love and that family was always enough
A desert's rain
like a thoughtless brain
brings soothing pain
that's lavishly plain.
This sad clown
wears a peasant's crown
while sitting down
so that he won't drown.
There is a quiet art to being a ghost
before you have even learned to die.
To move through a room like a sudden breeze,
stirring the curtains but leaving no trace,
unheard against the loud fabric of the day.
The world looks right through the stillness,
their eyes catching only the brightest lights,
never the soft shadows that hold them up.
It is a heavy thing to be a background melody,
playing softly while the crowd ignores the song.
Yet, there is a secret freedom in the erasure.
To watch the world without being watched,
safely tucked away behind a glass wall,
carrying a universe of unspoken thoughts
that no one ever thinks to ask for.
Past the hour when the clock stops ticking,
the mind begins its quiet, solitary work.
The barriers of the afternoon collapse,
leaving only the raw, unpolished thoughts
that are too heavy to carry in the sun.
In these blue and hollow hours,
memories do not arrive as warnings;
they arrive as soft, persistent echoes,
reverberating against the walls of the mind
like rain trapped inside a hollow valley.
The world believes the dark is empty,
but it is crowded with unanswerable questions.
We trace the geometry of our regrets on the ceiling,
weaving ourselves into the fabric of the night,
until the first cold thread of morning pulls it all apart.
The world prefers the versions that smile.
It asks for bright colors and steady steps,
so it is easy to build a porcelain house
and speak only in the cadence of pleasantries.
It is safer to let them look at the painting,
rather than the canvas underneath.
But the beautiful tragedy of a disguise
is that it keeps the storm entirely inside.
Behind the curated quiet and the gentle gaze,
there is a vast, unmapped ocean,
swirling with the colors of midnight
and thoughts too heavy for the afternoon.
Tho there is a strange comfort in the distance.
To watch the world move from behind the glass,
knowing the truest parts of the soul
remain safely tucked away in the shadows,
untouched by the careless hands of daylight.
Be the wind in someone’s sail,
Be the calm in someone’s gale,
Be the spark today,
In someone’s dark day.
Be the joy that’s found,
Turning another’s day around.
Be the hope in someone’s gloom -
The sunshine -helping flowers bloom.
Be the light in someone’s night,
And their breastplate in a fight,
And your kindness, always share
In what you do and how you care.
Be the reason to make them smile,
Even if it is for a little while.
In a world that is so tough,
With a whole lot of toxic stuff -
Be the balm - soothing the strife
In someone’s stress filled life!
14.12.2000
Copyright ©2000 by Crystal David John
The day demands too many answers,
but the night asks for nothing at all.
It arrives like a slow, dark tide,
submerging the sharp edges of the world
in shades of ink and indigo.
There is a quiet grace to the shadows.
They do not judge, nor do they rush;
they simply stretch across the floor,
holding space for the thoughts
that are too delicate for the sun.
To watch the stars from a dark room
is to understand the beauty of distance.
The universe speaks in a visual language,
a slow, hypnotic dance of light
that only the patient ever truly see.
-S0ME0NE
They say destiny is written in stars,
Everything from your triumphs to your scars.
So I stand on pedestal, gazing at dark skies,
Trying to find a reason for another try.
My legs get weary and they shiver,
Somewhere, my hope also quivers.
I try to support my head as tears fall down,
While in despair, I try not to drown.
The soil beneath gets salty from my tears,
Perhaps my hope was shattered in a haze of fears.
But then again, hope, is addictive and fierce,
Like sunlight through stormy clouds, it knows how to pierce.
I again look up to find my destiny written in stars,
As I try to find the counts of triumphs and scars,
Maybe it’s written that I will reach for the stars,
Only when I battle unafraid of the scars.
Buchenwald Bergen Belsen Belzec Auswitz Birkenau..Advertized as kibutz
Camps 1940 s designs, live now as this
Ages macarb'e museums, attractions of
Evil madness i find.' Generating payments
That get siphoned to wars.' They are temples to manna, steeped in past agonys..Into current atrocitys i am almost
Sure.? I am not reflecting on Jews far and
Near for there will be many who are not guilty of ultra earthly zionisam, yet i realize there is more, i see a satanic circle
Of distinct groups nominally Christian Jewish Islamic Hindu Buddist Zen under
satan..In cahoots each sect stirrs its followers to cause some bad event, then its the turn of another.' This way they circumvent.? Discovery of their methods
The public perception is always skewed..az they melt in and out of the shadow world that enables their attacks
On you.' Or whoever they next intend to do.!
Frustration builds,
Why can't they see...
They are the ones,
Slowly killing me...
Living in denial,
Just won't do...
I push forward,
Wishing for anew...
I didn't ask to be sick,
Yet this is it...
I wear a smile,
But feel like s*** ...
Emo Categories
Definition | What is Emo in Poetry?
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