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Linux Feb 2020
If she's not worth the blood,
then why bleed?
stop cutting your wrist
because of a love that wasn't even true.
Linux Nov 2019
Hobbies are just sugarcoated,
we do them as we wait death.
Birthdays are just glorified,
it signifies that our time ticks too fast.  

I still don't get the point of existence,
if we'll all end up as wormed skeletons.
Life is just filled with questioned essence,
Anytime,  it will just end up.  

Why do we still need to live—
if anytime,  we die?
Linux Oct 2019
i am not a police
but i live in a crime scene.

every single day
i watch how my friends
turn into murderers,
as their lies flaunt into knives
and stab down the deep trench
inside my chest.  

every single hour
i watch how my friends
cloak into robbers,
as they steal my time
and take my efforts
for granted.  

every single minute
i watch how my friends
jell into rapists,
as they forcely push me
into the things i don't
and i'll never really want.  

every single second
i watch how my friends
whirls into demons,
as they drag me into their hell,
and frame me up
afterwards.  

i live in a crime scene
i'm not the police
because i'm always the victim
Linux Oct 2019
his hidden flesh flaunts
from her tiny little movements.  
that's the start of cruelty,
of ragged and odd sexuality.
Linux May 2019
the moon mislays its luminosity
as the stars started to decay,
they fell like crying meteors
and they kissed the sea beneath the algid breeze.
a detonation of the ocean tossed,
dripping droplets on my body.

in that night, i watched how the world I built,
reached its downfall.  

your eyes were an ambiance,
stained by thunderstorms
and tinted by the abysmal sea.
it was too deep to swim at
but i loved being drowned
and being wobbled with its breeze.  

and as you cry in pain or bliss,
i was always like being washed away
by voluminous tidal waves,
and i ended up in an island full of chiseled sand,
in there I realize,  when you cry,
i suffer.  

yet as you turned those eyes
to somebody else,
i felt like my paradise was finally stolen.

my shivery ocean evaporated
my blinking stars were ***** by dimmed clouds
my crescent was torned into pieces
and the unwanted rain poured down
showering me and the dovish land,

that's when my tears became jealous,
of how the tiny droplets stream down,
that's when i realized,
i'm already crying.  

this poem maybe the last one i wrote for you,
telling how my world was stumbled, was burned,
and was turned into ashes—
after you'd left me with my trembling toes.  

this is not a poem of goodbye,
but it's a poem of letting go.
Linux Jul 2018
What if beauty is just an illusion?
What if those alluring flowers—
Are just made by our creative visions.

What if literature doesn't exist?
What if prominent poetries—
Are just emotional fantasy beasts.

What if Elizabeth I, didn't really live?
What if they made her—
Just to mold an inspiration for us to believe.

What if we really don't have families?
What if we just made them—
To polish our longing bliss.

What if I'm just an illusion?
What if you are all actors—
Filming just to visualize my imagination.

What if...I **** myself?
What if I'll end—
All the agonies that make me deaf.

Will someone be there?
None! Because each of you are just illusions—
That fades when I need you here.

The world, taught me to be an illusionist.
But because of these, I'm agonizing.

Can I end these lies now?
This pain—
That forms melancholy?
This life—
That is illusionary?
Linux Jul 2018
We swing emptily like mannequins,
As the algid wind starts to harass our skins.
The ****** behind my oldfangled clothing,
Begins to define you, as my everything.

Our ears were fed by the gloomy sonata,
That finally heals my dreary nostalgia.
My shoulder became the bed for your head,
That had dozed your eyes, away from dread.

And you commenced a euphonious hum,
Mimicking the melody of the viola and drum
"I love you" I uttered with sophistication,
And our lips collided, without hesitation.

Until the midnight music stopped,
And my world had ceased in an abrupt
You had slowly faded from my senses,
Realizing that our moments are just contrivances.

The gloomy midnight sonata is just a song,
From a movie I had watched for so long.
It brings back pain, it brings back blue.
Everytime I hear the melody, it reminds me of you.

— The End —