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Angeliki
Angeliki
24/F Hi, I've been writing poetry for a couple years and I enjoy meeting others with the same interest.
Her lies are consistent Her smile is hollow But when she wears upon her head Her crown of despair You're in for a surprise Because she twiddles her thumbs And her dull eyes spark a resolution To a plan she forms within her mind. Her heart is kept Frozen in time, Out of reach Far from those she may spite. Her hands are cold Her sneer is dreadful But when she wears upon her shoulders Her cloak of vengeance You're in for a surprise Because she taps her chin And her fingers bounce with joy Against the blade she wields beside your bed.
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Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Her.
I'm slipping away Nobody can see As I lay, tears falling. There's a shadow Where I imagine a future, Broken pieces, scattered Which I cannot seem to pick up The glue long since dried Multiple times before Have I attempted To fix this broken person in the mirror, Whose smile seems fake to me Taunting me Waiting For the moment I let down my walls So she can watch me crumble So she can laugh at my screams, My tears and blood To spill, erasing all the dirt Of who I was before.
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
Damaged.
Otherworldly.. transfixed we were, the sirens' music within the nightly mist. Damnation.. we belonged, insanity terror depression the foreboding fear - we felt them all. The sirens' music was heard, it crept into our consciousness and so we stood frigid.. cold were our bodies and warm were our hearts within this nightly mist.
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Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
The Sirens.
There is a time limit for everything so why.. are these daggers continuously aimed at my heart? If I had the power to do so - then I would forever stay in the moment where I am most at peace. Yet, the 24 hour cycle is nearly over and I will have to face it so that I can unravel once more a crumbled mess upon the cold kiss of the ground. Our hearts bleed open and they close up for the mightiest to once again barge through, uninvited. Our minds replay several scenarios before they shut down, for rest to come to once again bring along a head-piercing pain. Our hands tremble and they clench into fists, for the gentle to once again - pry at our yearnings. There is a time limit of 24 hours on the clock incidents will repeat and people will change but these daggers will forever be aimed at our silly, but lovely hearts.
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Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 4:52 AM UTC
Twenty four hours.
Farewell one day, we will reunite beneath the blossoming of the flowers that have awoken. The songs of the church bell will ring from a place afar, we won't race towards it - no, we are happy right where we are because the sun is resting upon our frozen cheeks, and our souls are at peace. We will share tales of our pasts and families, that we will no longer return to - let us pluck the petals from each and every flower that we have set our sights upon, and it shall drift onwards floating across seas of clear blue, and mountains of longful beauty. Sitting in a circle, our smiles at their brightest and our laughter at its loudest - one day we will reunite but for now, farewell.
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 6:58 AM UTC
Farewell.
Whispers travelled the corridors anxiety filled the air, and there in the corner she lay as fine as a porcelain with skin as cold as ice. Nobody dared to approach but anyone could see, the pills that lay nestled within the palm of her hand. And in the midst of all the tension the silence seemed to overwhelm, those who looked on wanted to run they wanted to forget because there in the corner she lay as fine as a porcelain, with a smile as serene as the clouds.
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
Porcelain.
They walk on cloaked rotted disfigured and jaded - their feet leave behind no trace upon this dirtied path towards their doom. They look forward distance blurs remote and devoid- this desert is their ground as they fight within themselves the corrupted filth, shaded from the sun the darkness creeps into this deserted cemetery. Bodies broken to the core bloodied bones distorted and ghastly - the cloaked figures they walk onward, past the corpses blinded to reality... these ghosts prevail.
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC
The Walk.
Numb, fading.. the years took its toll, onto a dying man's heart. A breaking body, and a sorrowed soul.. the stress kept building up, and the alcohol was his comfort. Five years, and onwards.. he would brave the storm, and not succumb to his death. Aromas, and tastes - he could no longer recognise, as he lay against the bed eyes shut and fading, never again.. would his sight lay upon his family.
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Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
The love of a man.
Digging myself a grave, within my heart where all my secrets are kept.. where the corruption spreads, and the numbing pain remains. Digging myself a grave, within treasured memories of an incomparable time.. where my world felt endless, and the weightlessness remains. Digging myself a grave, within my soul where the needles poke.. where the reason dwells, and the labyrinth remains.
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Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Grave.
Hideous gruesomely frightening I wear this mask, the devil that I am self absorbed and inhumanly cold.. my angry howls do not falter but you are there, an image of innocence upon your face.. the walls break and they crumble due to the pressure.. of my untamed fists and fiery depression, whereas my tears are the cause for this disfigured flesh.. my shadows draw you near my chains enslave you, struggle as you might.. break apart thoroughly until you are nothing more than a doll with black voids for eyes.. kneel before me, submit your entirety however.. do not plead for I will not remove my mask, and accept a being so utterly angelic as you are.
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Devil.