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The beauty of paper flowers
They never wither

The tragedy of paper flowers
They always remember

Your gentle hands could do no harm
But they could let go

A paper flower never wilted

Even worse

It was discarded
-
                                          𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬
                                                  𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧

See bright rays
reveal blood stains

Yesterday, there was life
It vanished
𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵


                                           𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
                                       𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

How could the world carry on?
Why do the birds sing a happy song?
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠


                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘺?

Why were you bleeding?
𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

                                                        ­                     Blue petals turned violet
                                                         ­     𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
                                                        ­                           Why did she do this?
                                                                ­        𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬

                                                   
                                 ­                                  He fought through the misery
                                      just to be killed by a 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲
                                                          ­                And she blamed the night
                                                          ­                             but I know
                                           𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧


                                              𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
                                         𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

How could the world carry on?
Why do the birds sing a happy song?
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠


                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘺?

Why were you bleeding?
𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨










𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑


                                      ­     𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃-𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑


                                                        ­                                               𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑


                                        𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑



See his dead body
                                                            ­                         That rose all ******

                                                She is a 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑








                                                𝐌𝐨­𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                   𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨


                                                       ­                           They let her get away
                                                                ­          The evidence was ignored
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳?






                                             𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
His
Petals were all gone

                                                   Yet somehow

                                                        ­                           The world carried on
                                                            **­w dare they sing a happy song

                                           𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠



                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘺

Why were you bleeding?
                                                                ­   
                                       
                     ­                                                                 ­                   𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠



𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆



                                          ­              𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨











                                  ­             He was torn apart

                                                          ­          Her thorns pierced every part

He was the victim
       But no one believed him

                                                            ­                             She was the killer
                                                                ­But who would suspect her        

And now an innocent
        flower is dead

                                                 His blood is on


                                            𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒
I burn in silent flames,

Gazing at an endless static sky.

Bugs crawl beneath my skin,

As I am betrayed by my own fragments.

Even if the body could be spared,

The mind is still impaired.

Who could see me and say,

That I am still a human being?

Broken things are tossed away,

Perhaps it is the same for me.

I wonder when,

My fate shall be decided.

As I lay,

In my raised bed,

Propped before the eyes of God.

Gaze upon me.

Allow me to reach,

Heights above.


But mercy has never met me.


I have suffered for so long.

Will you move this along?

Why must we prolong,

The misery of the sickly,

Just like the anguish of the lonely?

I eat the blessed food and drink,

But holiness escapes me.

This fragile vessel,

Rejects its blessings.


Honored to be so close to heaven,

But I am not so privileged,

To have a taste of paradise.

So I remain,

In my raised bed,

A sanctuary of suffering.

Closest to heaven,

Furthest from,
                                                           ­                       
                                         ­                                                               Pa­radise.
What's worse than a *****?
A girl who wants friends and nothing more.

What's worse than a rake?
A guy who craves love but no bed to shake.

What's worse than fleeting romance?
A bond with no pull, yet endless expanse.

What's worse than shallow lust?
A touch freely given, yet no spark to combust.
"𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒" 𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠,
𝑅𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑.
"𝑏𝑢𝑡" 𝑟𝑒𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠,
𝐼𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑.
"𝑦𝑒𝑡" 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠,
𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
"𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛" 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮,
𝘌𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺.
𝘈 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦,
𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.
In a world devoid of meaning, she wandered alone,
A soul forsaken, lost in the void, a heart of stone.
Her eyes, once bright, now dimmed, like stars in the night,
Reflecting the emptiness that consumed her light.

She walked with steps of lead, her feet heavy with despair,
Her laughter a hollow echo, her hopes a distant, fading air.
Time, like a thief, stole away her dreams, leaving only ash,
And darkness crept in, a slow and silent crash.

It didn't come all at once, but trickled in like sand,
Grain by grain, until the light was lost in the land.
Her smile, a forced and fragile thing, like a blade held sideways,
Couldn't pierce the shadows that enveloped her, like a shroud that wouldn't fade.

She didn't scream, she didn't cry, she simply stopped shining,
Her light extinguished, like a flame that's lost its spark, its meaning.
The world around her lost its shape, its color, its sound,
And she was left with nothing, but the echoes of a hollow ground.

But then, one day, an ember appeared, a spark of light,
A small, yet fierce, flame that flickered in the dark of night.
It didn't promise, it didn't call, it simply existed,
A tiny, glowing point, that beckoned her to follow, to resist.

She reached out, with a hand she thought was lost,
And touched the ember, feeling its warmth, its gentle cost.
It didn't move away, it didn't fade, it stayed,
A steady, pulsing light, that guided her through the shades.

She followed, step by step, through memories like thorns,
Through fear like fog, that shrouded her, and kept her from being reborn.
The ember led her, through the dark, through the pain,
Until she saw, a glimmer of light, a world reborn, a new refrain.

The darkness peeled back, like a curtain, like a veil,
And air, sweet, warm, alive, brushed against her skin, like a gentle gale.
She blinked, and the world bloomed, like a garden in spring,
Colors she had never seen, spilled from the sky, like a rainbow's wing.

She stood, trembling, on the edge of something new,
A world of wonder, a world of beauty, a world anew.
And there, in the gold-soft hush of morning, she met a heart,
A heart as gentle, as soothing, as the morning breeze, a brand new start.

He didn't ask for her story, he just listened to the silence,
Between her words, where the truth resided, where the pain existed.
He didn't try to fix the cracks, he just held them, like a work of art,
And showed her, that even broken, she was beautiful, a masterpiece, a work in progress, a brand new start.

His laughter was rain on a window, his voice, a gentle stream,
That flowed through her, like a river, and washed away her pain, her scream.
His eyes, like the morning sun, shone bright, and warm, and kind,
And when he smiled at her, she saw herself, reflected, redefined.

She, who once flinched from affection, like a wounded thing,
Now leaned toward his kindness, like a flower, that needs the sun's warm wing.
She let herself soften, let her hands learn to hold,
Without shaking, without fear, without the weight of her past, her gold.

He showed her, that love didn't have to be loud,
To be real, to be true, to be a love that's proud.
It could be the quiet way, he stayed, even when she tried to run,
The way he said nothing, when her fear said everything, when her heart was undone.

The way he called her beautiful, not to convince her,
But because he simply saw her, like a work of art, a masterpiece, a treasure to discover.
He saw her, like a sunrise, like a sunset, like a work of art,
A beauty, that's rare, a beauty, that's unique, a beauty, that's a work in progress, a brand new start.

She still gets scared, still waits for the light to leave,
But now, she holds his hand, and the journey, is a different beat.
It's been a journey, of magic, stitched into the mundane,
Of coffee cups, and stargazing, of midnight confessions, and slow dances, in messy kitchens, in the rain.

It's been a journey, of missteps, and meltdowns,
Of moments, she nearly ran, but he was there, to catch her, to hold her, to love her.
He's been there, through it all, through the laughter, and the tears,
Through the fears, and the doubts, through the moments, that seemed to last for
It's a long one, a bit like a story of sorts but I hope you all like it, I got inspired after watching numerous movies in the past two weeks and I've wanted to write based on that.
Hope you all love it and that you all have that special someone in your life
I met an old man
who spoke with such hesitance
all the world's meaning

I met a young girl
who spoke with such confidence
all the world's nothing

To speak of expertise
as if one does not know
seems to be a sign of experience

To speak of trifles
as if one surely knows
seems to be a sign of ignorance


And in both
the old
and the young
I see expressions of love

The young for her friend
the old for his daughter

And from both
the old
and the young
I hear tales of wisdom

a life well-lived
and a life to be lived


The old is experienced
yet I still find ignorance

For he knows his love
yet not his wisdom

The young is ignorant
yet I still find experience

For she knows her wisdom
yet not her love


The old takes shame in every treasure he has
and says such profound words

Inspiring lies refined from truths

The young takes pride in every trifle she finds
and says such profound words

Touching truths discovered through lies


The old man nods his head
and parts ways
knowing we will never meet again

The young girl shakes my hand
and parts ways
hopeful that we could meet again
The flower needs rest,
so winter tucks it beneath the earth,
letting it sleep until spring.

The sun needs rest,
so the clouds and rain embrace it,
shielding its warmth for another day.
Take care, breathe easy, and give yourself the rest you deserve. Rest well, recharge, and remember, like the moon, even brilliance needs the night to shine again.

— A gentle reminder that even nature pauses to gather strength.
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