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funday_sunday
17/F/Tennessee Just existing.
I build my life on 'maybe', now I can't go back to reality. Maybe I am better, but now I think not. Maybe she noticed me, but I don't think it ever happening. I run around in this circle, I spelled out the word with my feet, the word 'maybe' became strange to me, and I think I live in it. I live and spend my life in 'maybe', now I don't think anything is real to me. This is a strange life on the word based by 'Maybe'.
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Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
Life on 'Maybe'
Dearest companions Do not ignore the writings On the walls of the home That has abandoned me Monster— declared so boldly by the people Who used to cradle my heart And perhaps they are correct What I am is no longer their business It is the business of me and those who wrap their arms around me Heed their warnings, for Monster— Is not a title given to the innocent
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Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
Exile
You're too polite And I'm too persistent We're caught in this Rhythm of Heartache and distance Both self-aware, yet neither is able To seal off the cracks That make us unstable So we'll dance in this space Just passing the time 'Til greener pastures You eventually find And I'll pick up the pieces Again and again Heart breaking in Rhythm That never quite ends
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Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 7:14 PM UTC
Rhythm
I bear my pen, my final shred of dignity Bearing words that betray me in sacred anonymity And reveal my bear face– Emotion-laced Hope that still hums in the agonizing silence Dreams of your gaze In your eyes What will never be Real.
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Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC
Real
I’m nobody’s favorite Not even mine I’m nobody’s favorite But I guess that’s just fine I’m nobody’s favorite It’s not even close I’m nobody’s favorite Just “okay” to most And yet I’m still trying To a foolish degree So somebody somewhere sees something in me It seems not to matter What choices I make I’m nobody’s favorite I’m just a mistake
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Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 12:45 PM UTC
Nobody's Favorite
Bird, untethered, the color of blue Weary and weathered, I sing this to you Are you alone in this harsh winter chill Am I forever to follow their will Will things get warmer if I close my eyes Or will they freeze over with winters soft lies Bird, untethered, the color of blue I once again find myself singing to you, Will we break free of our uncertainty Or will our wings shatter before we can leave Bird, untethered, the color of green you’re unlike anything we’ve ever seen Will this song reach you beyond these pale skies? Or will you escape from the grasp of my cries Bird, untethered, now where did you go? All that is left now is winter’s harsh snow Green feathers, nor blue, do I see in the sky Nothing but aching, an empty goodbye
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Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 12:43 PM UTC
Lullaby
I used to have a loud canary Plume and breast quite ordinary But even so While feathers grow I begin to worry. Birds, I know, are not bound creatures With their hasty contumacious features It’s quite easy to watch her flee me In a steadfast hurry. And this canary, fair and wise Had two dreadful, glaring eyes And when she sings Of death it rings As men begin to scurry And though her mind, so volatile Pushed me back, for a short while I cannot help but feel a smile When I hear her piercing hurly And though you’d never guess By her brightly painted breast Her parting words Were scarcely heard As for me, the memory’s blurry.
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Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC
Canary