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They argue in threads they barely read,
Just dopamine and capslocked tweets.
No questions asked, no space to try —
PEOPLE READ, NOT TO UNDERSTAND BUT TO REPLY.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 16
The sun comes out loud, like it owns the whole day,
It shines like it’s sure I’ll be okay.
It burns through the curtains, expects me to move —
Like light means life, and I’ve got something to prove.

But the moon doesn’t ask me to rise or perform,
It waits without judgment, calm and warm.
It shows up in the silence, when the world shuts up —
And reminds me that just being here is enough.

There’s peace in the dark when the day is done —
I feel more at home with the moon than the sun.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 13
I had a thought —
it slipped.
A line to speak —
just clipped.

I meant to say
what’s wrong,
but maybe I
came on too strong.

My chest said go,
my mouth said wait.
My throat just held
a heavy weight.

I wrote it down —
then backspaced all.
It felt too weak,
it felt too small.

I wish I could
explain this fear,
but words run dry
when you get near.

So if I stall
or start to shake —
it’s not a game,
it isn’t fake.

It’s just that when
my mind gets loud,
my voice gets lost
inside the crowd.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 12
I bought my peace in silver flakes,
from shadow hands in quiet breaks.
They said it shimmered, said it flew —
but gravity still pulled me through.

I lined the stars on bathroom tile,
called it freedom for a while.
It sparkled like a borrowed sky —
but burned like comets passing by.

I chased the night, I chased the glow,
until the stars fell down below.
And when the morning asked for me —
I left in dreams I’d paid to see.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 11
We all wish to die of old age in our sleep,
But what if my slow death began at 22 and ends at 83?
What if the love I was offered in life was deadly?
I know love might show up with a different face, but that just ain’t it for me.
If it’s not yours, it’ll always pretend to be.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 10
I woke up wired, heart beat fast,
told myself this time’s the last.
Lines on the sink, shame in my head,
texted some lies, stayed in bed.

The crash is gone but not the mess,
some days I still can’t catch my breath.
I stay away from what the old me craves,
and that part is still digging its own grave.

There were nights I almost called it quits —
and if the ceiling of my old apartment was strong enough,
I wouldn’t be writing this.
White lines on the desk
Black lines on my neck
If the ceiling didn’t let
I’d probably be dead


© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Limes Carma Jul 7
I never learned the rules they made —
the apps, the games, the masquerade.
I tried them once, they felt too loud,
like chasing something through a crowd.

I’ve had my nights, I’ve played my part,
but none of it could reach my heart.
I want something that doesn’t fade —
but not the way it’s now portrayed.

I’m not online, I stepped aside.
Not hiding — just not in the tide.
I don’t perform. I don’t compete.
But that’s how people seem to meet.

They match, they text, it moves so fast —
like every moment’s built to pass.
And while I watch it come and go,
I wonder where the slow hearts go.

Where do they cross, where does it start,
when swipes replaced the human part?
I never learned to play the cut —
Which leaves me here. Now what?
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
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