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"They'll find a way back to you miss."
The greatest words that anyone has ever said to me upon learning that my dearest friends will be moving away. In spite of my tears and negative attitude, my love calmed my nerves with these eight words. I know it's not a poem but I haven't felt like a poet as of late and that's fine. But I want to see this every time I find my way back here. I need to know that they'll find me again.
 Dec 2015 Babu kandula
Bria Grimm
You were the last act,
Now trailing in the wings
You're a carcass
Confined in my hot car

You are all the pain
I now choose to ignore

All you need,
Yeah,
All you need,
Take a look inside yourself
Strip away the seems.

You are a black cloth
Who wants to engross my light
You're just a dog
Weeping in the night.

You only stuck with me
Because you had no others.

All you need,
Yeah,
All you need,
Take a look inside yourself
Strip away the seems.

You're all wrong, but it's alright.
You're all wrong, but I'm alright.
Inspired, of course, but the lovely Radiohead's track "All I Need".
This is "our song" rewritten and now given true meaning. Enjoy.
L
I
F
E
Life...
try as I might
it's a crossword puzzle
never completed.
I don't know how to write anymore.
I'm trying to think of what to say in order to get my thoughts across in the way I want them to be known but I just can't do it. I feel like I'm failing. And I don't care anymore if I do fail. Go ahead Christina. Mess things up real good. As if you're not already *******. I'm sure your conservative Christian borderline homophobic family will never find out that you're bisexual. And I'm sure that your friend will never find out that you love her. And your boyfriend won't care that you try to dream of her every night. You'll be just fine after you fail this test in the morning and then go further into debt paying for classes that you don't care about. Don't even worry about money, as if you know what that is. Congratulations on scoring the worst paying job. Yup. You can do this. You can **** at everything. You can mess it all up. You can disappoint the world. At least you can do one thing right. Failing.
off the asphalt
five miles down south
she catches prawn

her skirt the catching net
feet quietly feather weight
she looks a muddy heron

beneath sky grayish pale
swimming wind with fishy smell
on her no man's patch

intent on her solo search
head bowed down cutely arch
she must have her catch

streaks of mud on her hair
only what she does care
a bunch of wriggling store

fire it up when day is dead
have the catch thinly spread
and nothing more
I become a ***** when I sense things ending
I get this itch and my heart starts bending
So I’m mean to avoid the pain
And I’m sad to get rid of the shame
I’m trying so hard not to be hurt
That you were leaving without an alert
But I know it’s better to give you a reason
Friends seem to change with the season
 Dec 2015 Babu kandula
moss
Their freedom to tell their depths is now confined to a week.
But despite the propaganda, they are still afraid to speak.
On the outside, they are perceived as nothing but freaks.
On the inside, their lives are catastrophic, yet also bleak.

From their mountains of anxiety to their valleys of depression,
Nobody wants to listen to their pleading expressions.
They're forced to hold down their feelings with constant suppression.
So desperate to become invisible, it becomes an obsession.

As if their sickness was not as legitimate as one of the physical kind
Just because it plagues their body on the inside of their mind.
Behind their daily masks, they are continuously confined,
And the rest of their lives will be wrapped in a box and predefined.

They often wish things were how they saw them: nothing being real.
They use third person pronouns to describe how they feel
Because, whether they like it or not, they aren't made of steel,
But continue to futilely dance around the solar system's wheel.
I meant to post this earlier in the week, but I've been busy. Supposedly, this was "Mental Health Week" in case you weren't aware. It really bothers me that it's such a social taboo to talk about mental illness any other week of the year, and even during that week, it seems most people are just helping "raise awareness" by retweeting or sharing, but it's still always something that no one wants to admit that they themselves have problems with as if it's not as legitimate as some physical ailment like the flu or even cancer if you want to take it that far. The more people distance themselves from a problem, the more distant it will seem, and then the people who have those problems will seem more distant, producing the opposite effect that was intended. Good grief, do we need a special day/week/month for everything?
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