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I am bullied by the life
It strikes, and strikes and strikes.
I am bullied by the  life.
Its attacks will never subside.
I am bullied by the life
It's a tunnel with no end and no light.
I was bullied by the life.
Until the moment when I died.
:iconsupergirlswag:SuperGirlSwag 13 23
Between the Sword and the Pen
I heard there was a battle,
between a pen and a sword.
Between a few deathly strikes,
and one simple word
The sword could not defeat
a few thousand men,
A thousand worded lecture
was written by the pen.
The lecture drove them all, 
to temporary death.
Its words dragged on like lullabies,
and stole their very breath.
The sword was not able
to bring tears to ones eyes,
Without striking love
and telling many lies.
The pen however knew how
to make ones insides melt,
when composing a sonnet
so powerful and svelte.
The sword ended up covered,
with blood and salty tears.
It's blade getting heavy,
from battling all those years.
And I hear that they still battle,
the sword and the pen.
Words clashing, sword smashing,
Again and again.
If you stop- and listen closely,
You'll hear the pens words.
You'll hear them calling out,
against the metal swords.
:iconxmajutsu-shix:XMajutsu-shiX 604 74
Freedom For Your Soul in A Minor
Music is timeless. Real music surpasses the test of the hour. It takes a hold of you, and it nests you in its arms. 
It fills you with feeling; overflowing at times with overwhelming impact. If you close your eyes, you just might feel it more. 
Music connects people in a way I have yet to see else do. It can attach itself to memories steadfastly; beginning to grow inside of you like a musical vine of sorts, wrapping itself around your experiences.

It’s pure and genuine; real music doesn’t take too kindly to falsities — sincerity is its DNA, it makes it what it is. 

Music is insight; one song can teach, touch, and tell me, more than anything else could attempt to do. It’s my favourite expression, thus far, there’s so much beauty in creating and sharing music. It shows you a world of possibilities, stringed together by a tune, it’s “Freedom For Your Soul in A Minor”.

You can tap
:iconrociobelindamendez:rociobelindamendez 17 16
Duty of remembrance
For all the spilt blood
For all the ones who died betrayed
For all the ones who died
at the hand of friends and acquantainces,
For all the ones who died
but never could be mourned,
For all the ones that only bones
could be found.
For all the ones who weren't given a chance
to live and to grow up,
for all the ones who lost their families
but survived,
For all the ones who still cry 20 years later,
For all the hatred that still remains
For all the murderers that are still running free,
For all the ones that hide the truth,
We must remember the genocide
and the countless lives that have been lost.
So that brothers won't have to hate each other
and die at the hand of the other.
Akai Yari
:iconakai-yari:akai-yari 2 0
The Outcast
He stands alone
Over in the corner,
Watching the others
As they only ignore him.
She stands alone
In the girls stall,
Tears in her eyes 
As she tries to calm down.
They stand alone,
Outside the crowd,
Watching the world
Go by without them.
:iconkiwiootori:kiwiootori 71 24
Our Words.
Epilogues before prologues––
These stories only make sense in reverse.
Tear-tainted-table tops, where tattered pages fly.
An abandoned desk overlooks the open window,  what a breathtaking view.
A homely typewriter nests the ultimate-– in it’s inanimate soul.
Shards of sunlight seep through the pale meshed curtains, flying playfully with the inked pages.
We write and die tonight.
We write and die tonight.
We’re all just stories, aren’t we?
Some are long, others short, some crazy and others mundane.
The thing is, we’re also the authors.
Life’s just inspiration, isn’t it?
––For the final masterpiece; act three.
We write and die tonight.
We write and die tonight.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
:iconrociobelindamendez:rociobelindamendez 37 18
Nothing to Write
I have nothing to write today.
I sat down with a thought and a pen,
Flourishing with the idea
That few things are as definite
As death, taxes, and the loss of symmetry in freshly tweezed eyebrows.
But soon, the words ceased with a skid,
And the punchlines came flat.
Here I am,
Sitting before the brisk view of the red Arizona mountains
With the sun in my hair and the sky in my smile,
Still completely dumbfounded and void of inspiration.
Perhaps I'll type a soliloquy
On the philosophy of a cactus,
And on how the sweetest fruits
Always seem to grow on sharp, dry, government-protected plant-life.
Maybe a sketch will form in my brain
Of a sonnet on the juxtaposition
Between the hummingbird's hum
And the highway's roar.
The sidewalk burns of scorching summer,
And the heavy heat deflates a sigh that sings my frustrations.
There is no poem to be seen and no prose in the winds.
There is absolutely nothing to write today.
:iconemerald-alexandria:Emerald-Alexandria 34 32
I Saw the Evil Inside of Me
I saw the evil inside myself,
so murky, dark and gray.
I felt the horror that grew in me,
and it's growing through the days.
I've tried to stop it, yes I have,
but it will not go away.
It's made me crazy, it's made me insane,
like a beast that cannot be tamed.
The girl that sits across from me,
I want to shoot her head.
The boy that always smiles at me,
I want to strike him dead.
This feeling, it kills me, tears me apart_
yet there's nothing I can do.
I've turned into something horrible,
cruel and deadly too.
Though these thoughts rage in my mind,
my heart, my head, my soul.
I will not act upon them, no
this pain will be my own.
No innocent child, no innocent life,
deserves to feel my wrath
To close one's book, own my own accord
is nothing short of bad.
Suffering is no stranger, to the human,
no it isn't.
Pain is a given, we must all accept
and no excuses can be given.
The difference however, between you and me,
is I will not turn my gun
Onto an unsuspecting soul,
with qu
:iconlidsworth:lidsworth 20 13
Why follow the Masquerade ?
Why follow this masquerade?
A parading masked charade ;
That walks a beaten path.
An unchosen life that they hath.
With normality we're smitten.
Either Fit in or be Fitten !!
Isn't there space for all ?
After all, is the world so small ?
Why fit in.. when you can stand out ?
If I can't then I demand out..
Why follow when you can lead
If I can't then I shan't pay heed
I'll pave my way out at any rate.
Possibly set the beaten path straight.
:iconsrinath-ste-v:srinath-ste-v 24 16
I Can No Longer Bleed or Cry: I Can Only Write
Cramps in the walls of my abdomen
my throat runs dry
my lungs beg for oxygen
as a blur spreads
over the pupils of both my eyes
My tongue tastes grey and my lips taste white
my cheeks fade out and my eyes shut tight
my nerves give up
my blood turns cold
my brain right before it switches off
   right before it dies
it sends you this poetry
      with tears and goodbye
:iconmaryitis:MaryItIs 7 9


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