Scattered Thoughts, Shattered Feelings. by Oneskyealone (free children's ebooks online TXT) π
Excerpt from the book:
This is a small collection of my poetry over the past five years.
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to listen.
Hearts that beat themselves up,
At every hand that shuts doors,
Rather than shake.
Being small minded and strong willed,
Can never be easy.
But do they deserve pity,
When there are eyes that know,
That even when their closed,
You can feel truth,
That one outstretched hand is better,
Than countless closed fists.
Hearts that know their music,
Can help ears decode whispers,
If they'd take the time to open.
Thoughts on healing
We are damaged.
Bandaging a wound that leaves,
Abstract puddles in our wake,
Trailing along behind us forever.
Walking in no particular direction,
We cross pools of blood reflecting,
Our own conceived notions of pain,
And it mingles thoughtfully,
Sometimes sticking and other times,
Flowing outward into oblivion.
In the case these pools of blood,
Do grow an attachment,
They slowly start to implode
Fading into contentment,
And we gradually start,
To forget they ever existed.
Hurt connects with hurt.
Maybe thatβs why we heal.
Abyss
The dying day eats the void,
A line of delusion,
Crumbling denial left destroyed,
Separates an illusion.
Spring me from my rest,
I rest upon the fake,
One can only have the best,
If the rest was a mistake.
Words tied in knots,
Laced into a broken mouth,
Weary smiles left to rot,
Behind shards of teeth and doubt.
Atomic night slay the fantasy,
Burn harmony and shame,
Lay to rest the sanity,
That has yet to speak my name.
Bound
Ask me not who I am,
For I do not know,
I can never tell,
What will fit me well,
And I shall not grow.
I breathe beyond my breaking point,
And ask why I'm alive,
I smother myself,
Under covers of guilt,
That were never even mine.
I spread myself across the world,
Tasting every tear,
No more I scream,
But now I know,
I am the fear that keeps me here.
I peel the staples off my skin,
Pluck nails from my spine,
But I know now that I'll never budge,
When the ropes are in my mind.
Phase
The dying sun rises disguised as the moon,
Dripping from your please ridden mouth.
Spit sunshine in my eye,
And I blink stars.
Disillusion brings up my guard.
I think therefore I canβt.
I think I canβt therefore I wonβt.
I do therefore I donβt outshine,
Those who do both, enchanting,
Recanting fallen versus dressed,
In wings of filth,
What past is present if your only future is guilt?
And lessons of the guilty,
Wilt me, I shatter. I fall into bloom.
I know how to fake; Iβll grow a smile soon,
Correct my mistakes and,
Collect a rewarding failure,
When failing is tailored to fit my mind.
Winning is a learned process,
And is only learned when winning.
Itβs an excuse to lose.
Proof canβt be truth,
If nothing can ever really be true.
Reality is a technicality.
Perception, a regression.
The collection of progression is an illusion.
Confusion stems from a manufactured conclusion.
Rinse, recycle, reuse.
Phantom Fracture
Holding onto the moonlight,
Itβs too dark to fight,
Itβs too light to hide,
And all this silence,
Is ringing in my ears,
It is a deafening defeat.
I find solace in this solitude,
And I hear hope in loathing,
I smell fear in breathing,
I find myself disturbed,
At the monotony of it all.
I hope you fall, I hope we fall.
Shadows dance on the fault line,
And the faults mine, I know.
An unfortunate silhouette,
Against an empty back drop.
And after the shock Iβm in,
The earth moves me.
I move to you and you move away
Rumbling, shaking, violent,
It is no longer silent.
The moon smiles.
And I crack.
Shattered feelings.
Echoes of sorrow course through my brain,
Sheltered hollow rests in vain.
Smirking fear I canβt remove,
Broken thoughts do not improve.
A hollow pain, a contradiction,
Rest my weary thoughts in prison.
Solitudes formation fell,
Only, lonely will never tell.
Thoughts of kisses on finger tips,
Find their home upon lying lips.
Breathing tears, a tragic rain,
For those who do not know real pain.
A bitter silence meets my soul,
In search of truth, swallowed whole. Imprint
Hearts that beat themselves up,
At every hand that shuts doors,
Rather than shake.
Being small minded and strong willed,
Can never be easy.
But do they deserve pity,
When there are eyes that know,
That even when their closed,
You can feel truth,
That one outstretched hand is better,
Than countless closed fists.
Hearts that know their music,
Can help ears decode whispers,
If they'd take the time to open.
Thoughts on healing
We are damaged.
Bandaging a wound that leaves,
Abstract puddles in our wake,
Trailing along behind us forever.
Walking in no particular direction,
We cross pools of blood reflecting,
Our own conceived notions of pain,
And it mingles thoughtfully,
Sometimes sticking and other times,
Flowing outward into oblivion.
In the case these pools of blood,
Do grow an attachment,
They slowly start to implode
Fading into contentment,
And we gradually start,
To forget they ever existed.
Hurt connects with hurt.
Maybe thatβs why we heal.
Abyss
The dying day eats the void,
A line of delusion,
Crumbling denial left destroyed,
Separates an illusion.
Spring me from my rest,
I rest upon the fake,
One can only have the best,
If the rest was a mistake.
Words tied in knots,
Laced into a broken mouth,
Weary smiles left to rot,
Behind shards of teeth and doubt.
Atomic night slay the fantasy,
Burn harmony and shame,
Lay to rest the sanity,
That has yet to speak my name.
Bound
Ask me not who I am,
For I do not know,
I can never tell,
What will fit me well,
And I shall not grow.
I breathe beyond my breaking point,
And ask why I'm alive,
I smother myself,
Under covers of guilt,
That were never even mine.
I spread myself across the world,
Tasting every tear,
No more I scream,
But now I know,
I am the fear that keeps me here.
I peel the staples off my skin,
Pluck nails from my spine,
But I know now that I'll never budge,
When the ropes are in my mind.
Phase
The dying sun rises disguised as the moon,
Dripping from your please ridden mouth.
Spit sunshine in my eye,
And I blink stars.
Disillusion brings up my guard.
I think therefore I canβt.
I think I canβt therefore I wonβt.
I do therefore I donβt outshine,
Those who do both, enchanting,
Recanting fallen versus dressed,
In wings of filth,
What past is present if your only future is guilt?
And lessons of the guilty,
Wilt me, I shatter. I fall into bloom.
I know how to fake; Iβll grow a smile soon,
Correct my mistakes and,
Collect a rewarding failure,
When failing is tailored to fit my mind.
Winning is a learned process,
And is only learned when winning.
Itβs an excuse to lose.
Proof canβt be truth,
If nothing can ever really be true.
Reality is a technicality.
Perception, a regression.
The collection of progression is an illusion.
Confusion stems from a manufactured conclusion.
Rinse, recycle, reuse.
Phantom Fracture
Holding onto the moonlight,
Itβs too dark to fight,
Itβs too light to hide,
And all this silence,
Is ringing in my ears,
It is a deafening defeat.
I find solace in this solitude,
And I hear hope in loathing,
I smell fear in breathing,
I find myself disturbed,
At the monotony of it all.
I hope you fall, I hope we fall.
Shadows dance on the fault line,
And the faults mine, I know.
An unfortunate silhouette,
Against an empty back drop.
And after the shock Iβm in,
The earth moves me.
I move to you and you move away
Rumbling, shaking, violent,
It is no longer silent.
The moon smiles.
And I crack.
Shattered feelings.
Echoes of sorrow course through my brain,
Sheltered hollow rests in vain.
Smirking fear I canβt remove,
Broken thoughts do not improve.
A hollow pain, a contradiction,
Rest my weary thoughts in prison.
Solitudes formation fell,
Only, lonely will never tell.
Thoughts of kisses on finger tips,
Find their home upon lying lips.
Breathing tears, a tragic rain,
For those who do not know real pain.
A bitter silence meets my soul,
In search of truth, swallowed whole. Imprint
Text: I created the cover with the help of gimp, picnik, and deviant art.
Publication Date: 05-20-2011
All Rights Reserved
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