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Why is it
That the more times
I say I’m okay
The closer I get
To not being okay
 Oct 2019 Florence Montojo
Nylee
Does desire make you happy
or do they take away
the existing happiness?
What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?
 Oct 2019 Florence Montojo
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
Dance
That’s all I can do

Dance
That’s all i would do

Dance
Let all the pain out

Dance
All the sorrow and fear away

Dance
Till i take my last breath

Dance
Through the tears and the pains

Dance
Through the uncertainties and fears

Just Dance

Don’t ever let your heart and feet loose their rhythm

DANCE!!!!
 Oct 2019 Florence Montojo
Akshay
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
...
when I went to see you with all of my heart
I’d every intention of falling apart
the dots that connected your person to mine
became a mirage with the passing of Time
our days have been buried in soil that sank
and all I remember has drawn me a blank
...
when I went to see you, I already knew
that nothing would matter - to me or to you
the end.
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
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