Hello Poetry
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leonarden
18/M a whole lotta aspiration.
are you doing, or are you overthinking? are you progressing, or are you moving? are you living, or are you worrying? do some. progress more. live.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 6:11 PM UTC
what are you?
the night sky is clear, the stars, bright. there is no fear here, no anxiety tonight . . . just loneliness.
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Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 9:55 PM UTC
apollo's truth
one and another played a game in the forest where the dark trunks rose tall and the creatures were a chorus. the delicate blue air in the midnight’s gloom left one disoriented: are the sounds one’s voice too? one wondered and wandered, but after some time, another’s voice and one’s thoughts intertwined in one’s mind. one cried and one protested, one just didn’t know; was one even moving? for one lost feeling in one’s feet below. the cold wind blurred one’s sight, and nothing seemed clear so one closed one’s eyes overtaken by fear. one was without feeling, legs to chest, and even one’s face. now all one wanted was another’s kind, warm embrace.
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Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC
one and another
what is love but nonsense, without the consequence.
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Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 4:37 PM UTC
what is love
dear , exalt your stature as the prided flower in this field of the wilted.
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Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
dear you
gleamed amongst the wild green appeased buds, shined and sheen this field of blades not red, but green for rain erased the war it had seen.
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Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
field of blades
what is a greater yield to life than to bleed your heart, etch your soul, cast aside hatred without strife and learn to love, so you may be full.
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Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:11 AM UTC
heart's blood
i do not care for grand glory, nor fame, for inspiring just one, means all the same.
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Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC
the inspirer
silent is the night, for the creatures of day in this kingdom of shadow are with eyes shut tight. all but the lone, the restless in the sky, searching; observing; soaring high and high. all but the owl, alone in the night.
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Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 8:46 PM UTC
the owl
let him sing his song of sorrow for chance his joy return tomorrow. for chance his joy forsake his life, he’ll tell himself he shall be saved by love returned, and free from strife, but naïve he shall remain, enslaved.
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Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
song of sorrow