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Family get-together (and getaway as quickly as possible)

It's the family Christmas party
And everyone's gathered around
A chance to praise the family smarties
The rest go drink another round

My great aunt's still talking, droning on
Showing no signs of wearying or dropping
The babies start screaming, one by one
Shushed by mums, but not completely stopping

Eyeing up games, not monopoly, we're not mad
Even my Nana's sneaked out back for a fag
The food's been scoffed, mostly by my dad
We've been here an hour, it feels like a drag

At last I remember, as I'm on my umpteenth beer
This is why we go through this just the once a year

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I wrote this particular poem for uni, and it won best poem at an open mic night, but what do I know

When light is cold and warmth is cruel
Steel is home and blue is feeling
And there is no relief for those crying
Not for hedonists nor for those kneeling No way to stop this hopeless feeling
Clockwork workers, silently bleeding
Day in, day out and never ending
Always wanting but never needing
Clockwork people in plastic cities
Don't tell the truth of how they're feeling
They lie and cry and keep on going And know they have no chance of healing

Good Things Come In Threes (or that one time I wrote a poem about murder)

The first time you died was when you met her
You came home and I saw the light in your eyes My smile is fixed as you describe her work
And I could feel the fires of your love for me die

I did not weep until you'd gone, my tears saved for the next day

The second time you died was with her in the car The crash, then the funeral, you stood; a shell
You died a death inside, and I knew if you could
You would swap us around and send me to hell

I did not weep till late at night, but my love for you would stay
The third time you died there was nothing for me
We had such hopes, I recall as my hands tightened
A necklace of the dust of my love gave you a blue blush
Your last death was mine and I found myself enlightened

I did not weep for you, my love, I just let you fade away

I have no excuse, I was very depressed when I wrote this

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
But the band keeps playing on
And the dancers keep on twirling
As their shoe soles turn crimson
My blood type's AB positive And I'm positively sure                         I wish the only blood that's spilling  Would be mine across this floor
My eyes drift close, I'm failing           The band's melody begins to waver
And the dancers dance more slowly    To this new melancholy flavour
My lady beckons me closer                My cheek rests on the sticky floor    She's finally come to collect me          And set me free from this life's chore
Yet my heart does not feel joyous    Only sorrow has made it crack     Though all awaits me is more pain      I'll give anything to go back
This is how this chapter ends
But there’s still more here to write
I’ll pick myself up off this floor   
This novel won’t end tonight

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
And the band keeps playing on
But I'm twirling with the dancers
For now just managing to…