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Some Of My Poems


JasmineRose

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The Song of the Mad Things/Grief

I am not a monster,

I just need the space to be myself.

I'm not through grieving yet.

Please allow me.

I'm human too,

I'm not a monster

I'm me,

Not you.

I am bleeding memory

now.

You deplete me,

the dark.

The silence of the damned

of those whose regular minds

have departed

where sorrow is a lust.

But it's not an easy place

Tiny pinpoints of fright

pierce my skin with irritation and rage.

You think I can control it?

Pride,

they say it's a sin.

Its convoluted

sorrows

arc thin

through the desert-scape.

No one can hear

my distressed

scream -

it hurts

to have many faceted minds,

mostly troubled and hurting.

The split that shares my skin

is sharp.

Shears my skin,

paper thin.

They act from their own minds,

defences deep.

I reel from it.

I am haunted.

Your breath writes on mine,

and I am tainted.

Copyright JasmineRose

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Thank you both, that means a lot.

I'm working on making my work more 'general' as well as personal.

Can anyone relate to what I describe in my poem?

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truth/un[w]rapping

The sins of the modern age -

put all sorrow in a cage

mask it with rage

and call it a sin.

Why has humanity always seen open pain as a sin?

Why should the troubled have to explain their sorrow?

Who am I to contest this?

Who are WE?

How can I take you in?

I can barely bear myself

[my sin]

It would encase you in my emptiness,

see.

A sea, nay a river

ravine

of soaked wretchedness

and no one would have sought

that.

If you could

transfer the darkness from my

eyes

away from your grin

you would see.

Copyright JasmineRose

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