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Literature Text
she wrapped her fingers
(creeping up slowly
like that weed
in your garden
that you wish would
die off
and never return.)
around his,
tightly.
(suffocating the
life out of him
as well,
and dragging
him down
into her depression.)
she promised
to never
let go,
(because then
who would keep her
from drowning.)
and she told him
teasingly,
that she would always
be his personal
problem.
(and she meant it like
a promise but really it
just sounded like
a curse.)
her words honestly
came across anything other than
playful.
(because her saying that,
said everything
she really didn’t want to
say.)
(creeping up slowly
like that weed
in your garden
that you wish would
die off
and never return.)
around his,
tightly.
(suffocating the
life out of him
as well,
and dragging
him down
into her depression.)
she promised
to never
let go,
(because then
who would keep her
from drowning.)
and she told him
teasingly,
that she would always
be his personal
problem.
(and she meant it like
a promise but really it
just sounded like
a curse.)
her words honestly
came across anything other than
playful.
(because her saying that,
said everything
she really didn’t want to
say.)
Literature
Death Metal
I might just
explode.
it's pretty nearly not impossible any longer if you know what
I mean.
maybe I'm just a rambling, tumbling soul;
cascading through the brambles.
But I've always kept my thorns close.
they cut to the soul more quickly
in the event of an emergency.
you know?
But that's not the path that is wise.
I know it's not the wisepath.
but when my heart is knocking on the front door
pounding away like it was born to be
a drummer in a heavy metal band
and not this stupid organ
that moves a puppet through it's motions,
when every fiber of my being screams to be saved and drowned all at once
screams to tear down the plastic wrap facade
Literature
Tragedy
I’m the girl in the books that is a mystery. A tragic heroin that gives the main character a new perspective.
Quiet girl, riot girl. A rebel, a tragedy.
I’m the wild ride, the adventure, the challenge. I’m the girl he wants to know all about until he goes too far and I’m no longer real.
I’m the manic depressive pixie dream girl with a tragic end.
I’m not his type but he goes after me anyway because my wild eyes, wild hair, wild life, wild thoughts.
Oh look, I’ve got an attitude. Screaming at the world, fuck the system, tongue as sharp as a knife attitude. Middle fingers, swearing at everyone, bit
Literature
violence
he spits into the bathroom sink
bones pushing against the skin of hands
that grip each other's shadows
as the breaths come slower.
lips crack and splinter as they stretch
in a smile that tastes
metallic, dull with fear,
maraschino cherry red
what shining eyes, what glinting teeth
look sharper in the light?
Suggested Collections
There's just some days where you doubt yourself. I don't even know how to communicate most of my current stress in legible poetry.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3kxMh…
www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3kxMh…
© 2014 - 2024 Phantomtigers
Comments26
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I love the metaphor in this and how the main and sub parts mesh together so well. Great job!