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Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey
You can't hold the short arm of the clock
and call it yesterday.
This is what I've learned this year. I think we've all grown up in ways we don't want to admit.

And in the end we're always more lost than ever found. But isn't that what life is all about? Finding your way back to yourself.

Happy new year everyone.
I hope joy gets your address right this time.
''And if your Nancy frowns, my lad,
And scorns a jacket blue,
Just hoist your sails for other ports,
And find a maid more true.''
 Sep 2015 Simon Fernandes
Aroody
Too tired I am to do anything,  
I've lost everyone , I've lost everything,  
Exhausted I am yet playing my role,  
I can stand up but what about my soul ?

I walk everyday smiling wide,  
A smile to fool , a smile to hide,  
For me to hide the joy that died,  
For me to hide the eyes that cried,  

Alone I sit ,  alone all the time,  
The sweet life I had turned as sour as lime,
Coffee in hand thinking of words to rhyme,  
I'm trying to get up, I'm trying to climb,

I can feel my heart's broken pieces,  
I do I wait but my sadness increases,  
It's as if my happiness, the sadness ceases,
Sitting and hoping sorrow releases,  


And I hope and hope and hope,  
And perhaps with hope I'm alive!!!
I slowly sway back and forth
In my barless cell
It's so big; I can't see the end
I feel like I'm in hell
Imprisoned by my own thoughts
Insanity grips me tight
It wants me to give in, just give up
I won't; I'll fight!
All Is, why? Because it's personal and I'm not giving up :P
I wish I could put into poetry
How I feel, exactly
Without sounding so **** cliché
How I want to run away,
Every day, is spent
Amongst decomposition and decay
A dialogue of broken words
From dead flowers in a vase
A truth I can't evade
That time on Earth is not a thing to waste

— The End —