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 May 2020 Ekta
Hannah Christina
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
Problems only We True Artists face.
 May 2020 Ekta
Ciel Noir
I hide my pain from a lot of people

I don't want to add to their problems

I am afraid to cry in front of my friends

I don't want them to see

the ways that I am broken

I want to be strong for them

So when they ask me how I am

I smile and say


"Everything is OK"


"Everything is OK"


"Everything is OK"



I tell the same lie

every day

— The End —