What would thou think of me tying rope to the tree?
With every strike mine own sword stabs back at me.
Perhaps I will let mine enemy pierce me,
For I can go on no longer.
Each day I sharpen and shine my blade.
And each day in its reflection I see myself fade.
If only the Fades could snip mine tarnished thread
And leave me strewn among the field with the other soldiers lying dead.
I look to the heavens; may He guide me.
......
The wind scatters her hair,
The fragile fabric of her shirt clings to her back.
The wind attempts to push her forward,
As her crowded and crammed mind begins to retract.
Trapped in a memory,
Existing in the exhausting grasp of the past,
Her world; wrapped up in a few moments,
A box of trauma and pain that has yet to pass.
......
Here lies self.wav,
Whose death ripples through domains.
Having fallen victim to bugs before
The antivirus firewall free trial ended.
Only the good ctrl/alt/delete young.
*file type not supported*
Here lies self.jpeg,
An image edited many times over.
......
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
......
The Ramblings of a Troubled Man
By: J Michael Wilbanks
I say that everything is okay
Those things happen for only today
And that tomorrow all starts anew
And that all I say to you is true
I lie, I have lied my whole life
I hold back the error, pain, and the strife
......
Unfortunate endings happen only after wondrous interludes.
What Seuss and Jekyll say about the fall is wrong,
It’s not fast. Not sudden. Not planned.
It’s a three-month-old pencil.
Getting smaller unnoticeably until it’s unworkable and left. Each mark made with purpose and pertinent to the users cause. But importance doesn’t grant immunity to daily wear and tear.
At the end of the fall, there isn’t concrete - another falsified consequence fed by Who.
It’s blankets and a numbness.
A ripcord on anxiety and stressors. A freeing from everything that allowed you fall in the first - then you can soar.
......
i never received flowers
there was none
, not even the color i like
no yellow , no pink , no purple
i never received flowers
only when i was buried
mind buried alive
body deep down at sea
......
Every morning, I leave no trace,
And you'd never see past the smile on my face.
You might have asked, and I might have lied,
Truthfully, these are the marks of an angel longing her return to the sky.
Every evening, I argue with the mirror,
Wondering if I should shower right after dinner.
The glass of water in my room becomes all too tempting,
And now I'm caught in a vicious cycle, addicted to feeling empty.
......
I'm proud of you for winning your silent battles,
The toughest decisions that you keep from prattle.
Clap for every single day you refrain from incisions,
Clap for every single time you say 'no' to addictions.
Whatever it is, you deserve the recognition,
The choice to get up, keep going, fulfilling envisions.
I'm proud of me for still holding the towel,
I never threw it in, instead, in I put dowels.
I wouldn't've made it to today if it weren't for my friends,
......
It comes in waves, yet all waves stay.
No currents in this tub, her worries astray.
Swimming in thoughts and welcoming prayers.
Sitting chest-high, surrounded by raisers.
Eternality fine-printed, and she signed His waiver.
She grants her last breath, and submits to her Savior.
Plunged for five seconds, but too short and partitioned.
Immersed a bit longer, ‘cause six’s too wicked.
Seven is His, and now she’s forgiven.
......