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Kojo
Kojo
I aim to have poetry be the expression of my reality.
The individual drops of sweat each represent a small piece of your former self. How much longer before you are the person you promised to be? Your muscles tremble, under the weight of change, have you forgotten? I know it has been so long since you were a child but growth has always demanded pain and it is time you pay.
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Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Metamorphic
From the moment I saw you You and that personality I knew independence was your heart song Such noble aspirations Your heart reaches so many, and creates new havens Be courageous, young angel Embrace your forever Fly to the promise Fade not into never Understand that every house was given strings And in the present, and future continue to find those perfect melodies Conquer the many dwellings and expand your business Have your aura linger, and encourage forgiveness
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
The Willpower of your Heart Song
Note to self, Writing about slit wrists, night terrors, or a chain of mental illnesses, is not poetry. You're venting. It's not wrong, but it's not poetry. You aren't the first or the last to go through **** And even though knowing that doesn't make depression hurt any less, don't try and create a pedestal out of your problems. Use the platforms and devices that are helping you vent, instead be the means to help find a solution. Afterwards, put that progressive period and those months of emotional cultivation into words. That's poetry. Understand your place in the human lineage. Compare yourself to those before you. Realize the audacity in calling yourself depressed. Step up and step into your greatness.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Cliché Depression
As a man A heterosexual man I felt comfortable making the decision with her To voluntarily share one of the most important tools for human flourishment At 16 But as a man A heterosexual man I  get uncomfortable at the notion Of telling my best friend of 10 years That I love him at 21 Unless we're both in a drunken stupor Or a tragedy permits such vernacular Am I a real man? Do I stand rooted In a twined thicket of contexuality Or is my purpose on the course of infinity
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
The Fragility of Male Virginity