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One
The world around me slows to a crawl,
No one around me knows me at all.
I look over the crowd of familiar faces,
From various times and different places.
They laugh and they play, one and another,
All with secret pains, I’m just like the others.
All hope is gone
No hope, no anger, no need for peace, nothing can be ceased
Endless sights of nothingness, antisocials would consider a long bewildered wish
Where have I been?
What have I seen?
So lucid its absolutely impossible to be a dream,
Am I dead? Have I ascended?
Is this good or bad?
How much of this can be comprehended,
If this is "it", then what could it have been?
What do I really fear?
Nevertheless... Im here, Im still here, I'll always be here...
We die every night
Fortunately, we wake up,
Yawn, and say, "morning!"*


© Raphael Uzor
he sits in the corner
of his deserted mind
where not even he
wants to keep
himself company.
the smell of
broken dreams
pang the air.
he feels tired.
he feels wasted.
but most of all
he feels
        




                                                            ­           alone.





and all he wanted
was a sign
from someone
from anyone
just to know
that he wasn't
the only one
who felt this way.
 Apr 2014 Reanna Horsley
Alexis
You
 Apr 2014 Reanna Horsley
Alexis
You
You

Whose thoughts
I yearned to know back then.

Whose prolonged gaze
Would make me blush, in those days.

You

Whom I never got to say goodbye to.

You

Whose path
I hope to cross again, one day.

I may have moved on,
But I'll never forget you.
I am happy
I am also sad
It is possible to be both
I believe they call it "harmony"
Pessimists prefer "melancholy"
But poets aren't always protentious
I am simply smiling
I am sometimes crying
It is possible to feel things
Without writing poetry
I believe they call it "art"
Although I prefer a silence
From whoever they are
Sugar daddies? No.
I'll make my own **** sugar –
and plenty of it.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2014
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