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sekarhardani
I study film, and take pictures too. Oh, and also I'm not as cold as the winter.
bruises, cuts, and scars can go away, but words, but words, but words, will always stick and s t a y.
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
( s t a y )
*The stage has been set Nature anxiously waits to see How the Earth intends To transform a seed into a tree Cloaked beneath the soil Hidden far from sight Strengthened by the rains Nourished by the light And perhaps magic does exist Just undetected to the human eye Because that tiny little seed Has now risen to the sky*
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Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
Magic Show
*And so I took a deep breathe, and start again. Everyone pushes me. I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm not good enough in faking. I'm not good enough in faking, a love.*
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 3:16 AM UTC
Untitled
"wanna go to the park?" he asked. That was the first time I feel a weird beat in my chest. We went to the park. I saw him sipping his soda; but I know he's sipping out his pain. I saw him knocking his knuckles to the tree, as we laugh to Family Guy; but I know he's knocking out his fears. I saw him moving closer next to me, because the rest of the bench is wet; but I know he's moving closer to a temporary source of happiness.
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
Temporary
People are like rain. They are falling, and crashing. They thought that was meant to be; falling, and crashing down to the earth. They thought that's just how life works. They thought life could only throw them down. I was one of them, back then. Until I melt down into a pool of storms. I was falling, and crashing, and crawling. Until I found myself sprawl in the middle of the storm, flowing with the others. But I stopped. And bless myself among happiness; rain.
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
Rain
Life is too short to go to the same coffee shop every morning, sipping another Vanilla Latte to start the day. To walk on the same road all over again. To wear the same shirt every week. But he is not like that. He eats cereal for his dinner, and grapes for the next day, or maybe sausages. He buys different kind of breakfast, from different kind of stores every morning. Today he use bike to work, and tomorrow he will use bus, but last week he used taxi, because he just received his first check. He drops out of school, because he don't like school. He also don't celebrate birthdays. That's what I like about him. He opens different kind of door every morning, expecting another surprise for that day. Craving for another adventure, waiting for another experiences. He is always new, He is always mad.
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
Another Different Door
*Love is Easy Love Me Like You Do Love Don’t Cost A Thing Love Yourself Love Me Love Me Say that you love me Love Before I Die Love Like This Love You Goodbye Love Song Love Away Love in The Dark Love Love Love Love* I’m losing the meaning of love.
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
Love Spells.
Isn't it just weird that the only one who always be with you is Time? No, not even your Lover, or your Brother. Not even your Father. When they break your heart, who was there with you? Time. Time will always be with us, In every high, in every low. For everyone who ever feel alone. Time will always be there, to tell you to keep going, move on. Time will not leave you. Not even a second.
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Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Time
And of course Every now and then it hits you Like a car crash Like a train-wreck And you feel yourself choking on the unsaid words And vomiting up the residue from drunken kisses Howling at the night sky While friends tell you "it gets better" A truth you do not need to hear Because right now you miss them like a limb And you're dragging yourself around every day Trying to make it to some kind of finish line Some kind of end Where the pain stops hurting Where you stop remembering their name And how you held them and danced with them And spoke to them about how you wanted them And now at 3 in the morning You're lonely and longing And they're with somebody new Who probably kisses them the same as you did And they no longer yearn the touch of your fingertips No longer crave you like water on a summers day Because they have them. They have found someone to hold their aching bones And you are alone. But you are not a reflection of those you have lost And you will be loved by people you have never met And you are beautiful despite their passing You are worthy, don't you forget.
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Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Passing love