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I was once kind,innocent and full of curiosity
But not now that gadgets eat people's innocence. I hope I was not one of them but.....it's just HOPE not really the reality
The one kind,innocent and full of curiosity child died in this woman's heart.

When I was that child I was very curious what it feels to be flash with something that is not good nor hopeful vids,pictures and more but now that I did...
I regret it..I really did..that one child full of hope and kindness is shattered into pieces flash with no second thought...
Before the question was:
Does it feel like I'm in fantasy movies?
Or
Can I watch some?
To:
****!Why the heck is this showing?
Or
The freak?I didn't ask for this FYP,chatgpt how can I turn my FYP to something good?
Being flash by something that shouldn't flash in my face is ****.
I look at the stars, dreaming I will be alright.
The moon smiles at me, with not-so-bright light.
I look at the sky, thinking when I die,
I will look down on Earth and live in the sky.

My life depends — it's up to me,
To you, to everyone else, how I choose to be.
But when I'm with the sky, moon, and stars,
I shine, I bloom, and I smile from afar.
 20h CantSeeMe
RJ
Another day in paradise, they say
as the sun scorches hope off my back
and the clock laughs its slow, cruel laugh.
I'm supposed to be grateful.
Supposed to smile at the mess,
at the noise,
at the weight of pretending this is fine.

But I hate it here.
The way the air feels like a lie,
how the walls close in
even when I’m outside.
The way silence rings louder than traffic,
and company feels lonelier than being alone.

They dress it up with palm trees and promises,
but the ground still cracks beneath my feet.
And no matter how bright the sky looks,
I still wake up tired
still sleep with my fists clenched.

Another day in paradise, huh?
Then why does it feel like hell
with a better view?
My heart is a love garden
It has flowers with every color
Without rain, without sun
Flowers bloom every season
My grandpa said some harsh stuff,
I wondered if he’d had enough.
I tried not to cry,
Deep down, I hoped he knew why.

He said “Gender’s not even real”,
And anyone who thinks so should just deal.

I said, “They/them” folks want to be seen,
As people, not some in-between.
It didn’t seem silly or wrong to me,
In fact, I felt a kind of key.

A few years on, I learned to speak—
With sharper words, and less critique.

I fell and lost a ski,
The man helping called me a he.
I really loved it,
I didn’t know why but I did.

What should “being a woman” mean?
Does grandpa think I’m making a scene?

I never liked Disney princesses,
I hated wearing dresses.
I did like football,
Gender felt like a big brick wall.

My long hair, was to much to bear,
Cutting it off was a grasp for air.

Now my grandpa thinks I look like a boy,
I can’t help but think of gender as a toy.
A game you can cheat, but never quite win,
A myth I’ve stopped believing in.

Grandpa cling to a truth so small,
While I see no sense in a wall at all.
I am female. But if you approach me as a he or they or anything I won’t mind. I don’t rly like football, and I’ve grown to love dresses. But now wear them because I want to not because anyone expects me to.
She’s “offline”
I feel “fine”

But she hasn’t been replying
And I feel like dying

I guess it’s easy to see
She doesn’t need me

Because she hasn’t been replying
And I feel like dying

I know her phone number by heart
Felt lost the moment we were apart

Still, she hasn’t been replying
And I am silently crying.
She hasn’t replayed for like a week. And she actually is offline, I think. But like what the hell? I would probably not survive a day without my phone, and she hasn’t checked Signal for a week.
I am not scared of death.
In fact, I find her attractive.
I like the thrill of being close to her.

I want her to hold me close.
I want her to be mine.
I want to be hers.

But my family wouldn’t approve of her.
And I love my family more,
Than I could ever love her.

So I keep my distance.
She’ll be mine someday,
She’ll be mine no matter what I say.
How do you come to hate,
The ones you loved?
You don't.
They tend to turn on you,
Either that,
Or they weren't real at all.
I forsake any shard of regret I had,
From leaving you,
I regret any feeling I had,
From loving you.
If anyone lost here,
It was you.
Because you'll fall back into emptiness,
Trying to replace it with people,
But I, I will not.
I'll continue to cradle my own light,
Which you came so close to taking.
I'm done sacrificing pieces of me,
In order to receive nothing.
Finally finally over her, I'm done chasing people who won't give me equal treatment. I'm sorry if this comes across mean, but I skipped anger when I was grieving her.
Up to the trees I go,
Further north where fresh water flows.
Travel preparations with my heart aching,
Home is where I’m free,
Left alone just to be.
Not in this gloomy place,
Not within this heat wave.
Like a pioneer,
I pack my bags,
Leaving behind the places I know,
In search of the places,
Where I’ll grow.
I’m on the road, making my way up to the mountains. Travel is good for the soul, you shouldn’t dwell in the same places for too long.
I saw the smoke from the mountains,
Early in the morning sun,
Billowing deep from the trees,
Where the great mountain beast once was.

I saw the smoke from Paul Bunion’s cabin,
Rolling up into the sky,
So when I climb up there tomorrow,
I’ll bring him a great big pie.
The mountain scenery is beautiful, it’s breathtaking.
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