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Literature Text
R.I.P
"Rest in peace"
Or at least,
what we all think it means.
How may I rest, six feet under;
in a tomb?
Alone and cold, in soiled womb?
They said, after death,
"You have nothing to worry."
R.I.P
"Reside in purgatory"
Why bury me in damp grave?
So far away from heavens gates?
I feel the warmth, know it well.
Another half inch, I'd burn in hell.
But in this shell, lifeless; sedated.
Morbid pranks!
Ironic you wanted me cremated.
Is this wrong? Or is this right?
But heh,
jokes on me I guess that's life.
At least for some,
R.I.P
"Reveal in Paradise"
"Rest in peace"
Or at least,
what we all think it means.
How may I rest, six feet under;
in a tomb?
Alone and cold, in soiled womb?
They said, after death,
"You have nothing to worry."
R.I.P
"Reside in purgatory"
Why bury me in damp grave?
So far away from heavens gates?
I feel the warmth, know it well.
Another half inch, I'd burn in hell.
But in this shell, lifeless; sedated.
Morbid pranks!
Ironic you wanted me cremated.
Is this wrong? Or is this right?
But heh,
jokes on me I guess that's life.
At least for some,
R.I.P
"Reveal in Paradise"
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
Literature
R.I.P Words
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have not
Literature
Pressure
Pressure:
You try to breathe, but you're barely breathing,
You can't think clearly; you can barely speak.
Your mind is filled with needless thoughts.
Your cheeks are red and feverish...
-
You know what you must do,
But you can't bring yourself to do it.
Instead you jump into a thousand distractions...
Mindlessly seeking the thrill of the 'anything',
You cringe at the progress of time on the clock.
And with lips gone dry from an internal hell-fire
You continue to evade what you cannot face...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd June 2013
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Something I thought about at work when I was bored. No I don't work at a morgue ._.
© 2013 - 2024 Ellen-Souler
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SRSLY.. STOP MY CAT JUST DIED AND I SEE THIS