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sad

Cardboard Boxes

Loud voices. How annoying.

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No one escapes the box
No holes, can’t breath
No sunlight to see
No hope, can’t leave
In the dark the mind plays games
Demons and shadows, no faces, no names
They dance and battle
Confrontational, no shame
From inside the cement box
The cement blocks the outside’s clocks
Tossing glass inside stone houses
Sharp shards prance
All the small pieces
Individually, no meaning
Prisoners, no feeling
Illusions of identity
Profound how having ears to the ground sound loud
Shouts drown down
Nothings on the other side
Beg to die
But this prison named hell has other plans aside
There’ll never be goodbye
Stuck here beyond death
Fucked clear to regret

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Mara's Book

As humans we hide. We avoid facing our problems and pretend everything ceased existing.
Buried in our vices.
A poem

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Shady tree
Knees pulled up
Book in hand
Quiet
External static
The adventures of a manic hero
Buried in the pages for ages
Battling mages and dragons
Stopping havoc from passing
Adored by all as it is
But the portal back home
It’s closing
Been dozing for way too long
The demons from the frozen homeland
Where evil roams much to often
If the gate shuts and there’s no luck
It’d be easy to get stuck
Fine and dandy
To get away from the madness
No one will miss me

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Static Breeze

In this short poem Jack attempts to express his mental prison to the reader.

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Bird watching from inside a cage is no fun
All the flight possible is witnessed with our own two eyes
All while bound behind bars, the cage door open
What fun is flight alone?
What fun is gliding the wind without a flock?
There’s no point in leaving the cage
But staying inside no flight is possible
Having clipped wings might make it easier
But not all caged birds learn to sing
Iron bars become the norm
Comfort the enemy
The rainbows never come visit
Neither do the rain clouds
A bird that learns to hum a fallen soldiers honor
It needs no more than another fallen soldier
Is this its purpose?
What good are wings on a corpse?

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