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GreyWolf
23/Cisgender/India
Bloodshot eyes and blood red tears Falling down one by one Showing no mercy Because I am trapped here As Nothing is real and Everything is fake Totally misplaced in This worthless world. Look here how broken I am Can't sit still or stand Heart pounding painfully No more tears coming out anymore. Everything is black white Either song or love Eagerly waiting for spark To bring light in my eyes.
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May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 2:21 AM UTC
Trapped
A pounding heart, veins alive with speed, Grief weighs heavy, yet hope plants a seed. Even blindfolded, the thrill remains, Like the endless sky, shifting and untamed. It burns red, the brilliance of the setting sun, Yet lingers soft, like spring air just begun. A maze of echoes, of past and new, Do I chase the end—or lose mys helf in view?
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May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 3:26 PM UTC
The Maze
The sun can't be compared to moonlight's gleam, Nor to a billion stars that softly beam. For it's the one that stays, both near and far— Through joy and sorrow, my guiding star. And so, my heart can't be compared as well, Its steady song, no storm could ever quell. My mind still burns, it does not tire or stray, It carves my rightful place from night and day.
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May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 1:16 PM UTC
The Sun and I
Even beneath a billion stars, The little boat floats, hollow at heart. Afraid of the sea’s unspoken wrath, It dares not drown, nor chart a path. Its only friend — the silent helmsman, Yet even he cannot break the hush within. It waits... for the moon to light the tide, For the wind to hush, and fear to subside.
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May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 4:35 AM UTC
The Boat
The sun no longer rises, The earth has stilled beneath my feet; Yet still I walk, and wait—for you. The moon has vanished from the skies, The wind no longer sings its tune, But my heart, it won’t stop pounding. Here and now, I make my vow: I’ll run through fire, shatter bone, Tear down cities, conquer thrones— Yet never beg, nor plead, nor bind Your soul to love that must be free.
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May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 4:30 AM UTC
Even If the World Ends
Tired of poems, of stories told, Of chasing dreams that never hold. Of ends and starts that feel the same, A hollow echo with no name. I long to lose myself in crowds, Where silence lives beneath the loud. To find a place I’d call my own, A hearth, a heart, a kind of home. To play again with skies so wide, No weight to bear, no need to hide. To walk a beach with naked feet, Or climb where sky and summit meet. But if not joy, then let me weep, And sob until the hurt runs deep. For all the dark I cannot flee, The storm that still resides in me.
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May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
Tired