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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.
I told others that your name

Is now a taboo; forbidden to be uttered

Because the mere mention of you

Hits me with everything we ever had

Hits me with everything we could have

Hits me to my core that I get stunned

By everything and anything of us 

So your name cannot be said by anyone

Unless it is whispered by me
 Jul 11 Skyla GM
dude
you showed the world your scars
and made my pain feel understood
with your words gracefully
better than I ever could
Life is so harsh
perhaps that's why
nature gave us
flowers and butterflies
to help us forget the pain
even if only
for a moment.
 Jul 11 Skyla GM
Feyre
And I remember thinking—
I wish someone would look at me that way.
As if they had battled it for a lifetime,
Through seasons and snow and sun -
Across cities and oceans and mountains
In innocent youth and wearied age,
As if they had finally surrendered and had no choice but to look.

In the way it takes all a person’s will and strength to look away
And they have been worn down, beaten, bruised
To the point of weakness, of giving up.
And now, all they are left with is their truest self, exposed down to the bone
& no strength to battle the inevitable
Draw of their eyes to mine.

I want someone to look at me as if I am their lifeline,
And their death-bringer.
 Jul 11 Skyla GM
Kalliope
Someone asked if I know you today

Which was odd

I said no

I only once knew you
And I wish I never knew at all
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