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 Mar 24 K
Ami Mathur
What does the rain say?

Calm sometimes stormy.
Let me introduce myself to my homies
I am an effect—scientifical
However, my soul is philosophical.
Evaporating heat out of heavy hearts.
Cooling the destination is my aim from the start.
Bugs and bunnies see me as a meeting sign
Making the greens lushy, Yes I do the refine.
Grey clouds hold me till the orders define.
Here I pour away.
Thank you, enjoy my time.
 Mar 24 K
Ari
A Lyrical Poem
 Mar 24 K
Ari
I wanna be a hero
I'm going out of my head
Maybe its the way you say my name
How can I say this without breaking?
Further apart the closer we are
Last night I was on my last breath
My heart, my heart's an empty canvas
I might lose my mind
Did I drive you away?
All I need is a little love in my life.
I saw it on pinterest and it really caught my interest okay..
 Mar 18 K
Lee
Tire Club
 Mar 18 K
Lee
Through the fence, we slipped,
scratched and torn,
but the world behind us
was nothing—
this was ours.

Rubber giants piled high,
a kingdom built from wreckage,
the smell of earth and metal
mixing with the air we claimed.
We whispered our plans,
wild as the grasshoppers we caught—
sting and laughter tangled together
as we spun tales of escape.

The owner’s anger didn’t faze us,
her shouts just wind
against the roar of our hearts.
We built our thrones
in crooked trees,
a couch our crown,
leaning like a dream too big to stand.
The go kart didn’t run,
but we rode it anyway,
down the hill that should’ve swallowed us whole,
laughing at danger,
at the world that couldn’t keep up.

Bruised and broken,
we held each other,
fighting wars we couldn’t win
except here,
in the tire club.
In this space,
we were never less than fierce,
our bond woven
with the secrets we kept
and the mischief we shared.
A sacred place—
where the world outside couldn’t touch us,
where we were fireproof,
surviving everything
but the burn of our own laughter.
 Mar 18 K
Lee
Kameko
 Mar 18 K
Lee
She moves like a shadow,
quick as a thought,
but I call her Kameko—
a stillness I’ve always sought
in a world that asks her to rush.
Meko, she knows herself
in the way she watches me,
in the soft tilt of her head
that holds a thousand words.
I hear her before she speaks—
a glance, a shift in her paws,
and in that silence,
she is everything.
To them, she is just a dog—
a creature of instinct and need.
But to me,
she is the sun,
a spark that burns quietly,
a love that doesn’t demand
but fills every corner of me.
In her gaze,
I see the world we’ve built,
where she doesn’t need to be anything
but herself—
and I love her for it,
for the way she fits into spaces
that weren’t meant for anyone.
She wears no leash inside,
no collar but the weight of her love—
and here, she’s everything we need,
as steady as the earth beneath her paws,
as wild as the wind she chases
I got My Shiba Inu as a gift from  friend, i was getting out of the military and spiraling with what would come next. Everything i knew was changing and i was scared. Then i was gifted my dream dog, she grounded me and continues to ground me, she is spicy and bold and independent. I named her Kameko because she always moved so fast, I hoped it would will her to slow down, instead its a constant reminder she was never meant to be slow.
 Mar 18 K
Lee
What We Remember
 Mar 18 K
Lee
I. The First Lesson

It was just a few blocks home,
but my legs burned like I had run forever.
Bare feet on pavement, breath caught in my throat,
too afraid to scream, too confused to cry.
We were just playing a game.
Worms throwing bombs at each other,
until he turned, and I was the game instead.
Pinned. Trapped. Hands moving where I hadn’t given permission,
lips pressing down while I twisted away.
I didn’t even like boys yet.
Didn’t understand what his body was doing,
why his hands wouldn’t stop,
why my voice—
my small, shaking, pleading voice—
meant nothing.
I ran.
Told.
Waited for justice.
But the world said it was a misunderstanding.
A boy’s future was too heavy a thing
to be ruined by a girl’s fear.
A piece of paper said he had to stay away—
until it expired.
And that was all.
So I learned.
My body was not mine.
My voice did not matter.
I was just a thing
that could be taken, used,
and forgotten.

II. The Betrayal

She remembers laughter.
A room full of us,
bodies draped over hotel beds,
the heat of youth humming in the air.
She says it was fun,
a wild night,
a story to tell.
She had already walked through the fire.
So to her, this was nothing but a spark.
A chance to get it over with—
shed the weight of innocence,
become someone new.
But I still flinched when a boy touched my hand.
Still froze when lips brushed too close.
I did not want to burn.
I was not ready.
Yet somehow, I was beneath him anyway.
A stranger.
A face I can’t recall,
but a weight I still feel.
And I let it happen.
I let myself disappear into it.
I let the world’s lesson ring in my ears—
You are nothing but what they take from you.
And that night, he took everything.
Later, my best friend would smile,
say, "We had a blast, didn’t we?"
And I would smile back,
because the truth was mine alone.
Because the truth was,
I scrubbed my skin raw that night.
Because the truth was,
I cried until I forgot what I was crying for.
Because the truth was,
I had betrayed myself.
And no one even noticed.
I always thought the night i lost my virginity was the night i lost myself, but the truth is that night just re-confirmed that i had already lost myself years before.
 Mar 18 K
Lee
She wore hunger like a shadow
that whispered of what was not there—
but she held it,
her shoulders
never quite bending.
She wrapped us close,
tightened the circle,
and in the quiet of those moments,
taught us that survival could taste like sweetness
even when the world was a desert.
Four children,
each carrying the mark of a different man,
but none of us carried more
than the weight of her love.
She danced in the dark,
and we followed,
not knowing
how deep the cracks in her skin went—
how her bones carried the scars
of battles fought with fists,
words that bruised in silence,
love that was both a weapon and a shield.
And when the lights went out,
she didn’t let us see the dark.
She made it a game,
the flicker of candles
casting ghosts that we could laugh with,
ice cream sundaes dripping with hope
where there should have been tears.
Her hands, though worn and trembling,
made something out of nothing—
something we could hold onto
when there was nothing else to grasp.
She was a storm in a house of glass,
crashing, breaking,
but never surrendering.
Her pain was the silent kind,
the kind you could taste in the air,
but still, she loved
with the fierceness of a world
she thought would swallow her whole.
And we never saw the weight of her wings—
the way they were clipped,
but still, she flew.
She said, Forgive me,
but how could we?
We only saw the strength
in the way she kept walking,
kept trying,
even when her footsteps echoed
against walls that never stopped whispering
of things she could never forget.
She wasn’t broken.
She was the quiet hum
of a river running
beneath everything—
underground, unseen,
but always moving.
She didn’t need forgiveness.
She needed us to see her,
not as a woman bent by the weight
of the world she couldn’t control,
but as the one who held us all
and made sure we breathed,
even when she couldn’t
I hope to be capable of the love in my mom's heart, she is truly my hero, good bad or indifferent.
 Mar 18 K
Akriti
MY STORY
 Mar 18 K
Akriti
This is my story .
How I came to be .
Lying unconscious,
In my death bed
Waiting for the inevitable
Alas! I came back to life
Woke up all alone
Sad and lonely
No one to care or love
Thought dying would have been better
Was fascinated by the world of Art
Drawn towards Monet, in particular
Started to dream,
To paint like him
Soon to realize
It was a dream, too far out of reach
Felt lost again
Wondering , to which world do I belong
So I took to writing
And this is how I came to be.
 Mar 18 K
Avishag
16 and silent
 Mar 18 K
Avishag
Sixteen & Silent

I tell them I’m fine.
They believe me.
Even when my sleeves stay long in the heat,
Even when my eyes sink deep in my face,
Even when I flinch at the sound of my name.

The shadows don’t care if I speak or stay quiet.
They hum in the walls, they breathe in my chest,
They slip through the cracks of my locked bedroom door,
Curl in my sheets, whisper, “You know what to do.”

I watch the blood bead, slow, deliberate.
Proof that I’m real, proof that I’m here.
It stains my sink, my sleeves, my mother’s voice,
When she asks why I sleep so much.

I want to tell her.
I want to say that the voices are eating me whole,
That the shadows are pulling my strings,
That I am a puppet and I don’t know who holds me.

But I just say, “I’m tired.”
And she says, “Get some rest.”

So I close my eyes.
And for a moment, I wonder—
If I never wake up,
Would she finally hear me?
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