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Why is it that when you say you love me,
Your eyes tell me you don't?

Every time you say all these things you would do,
But you won't

Things keep coming between us,
Sometimes ego, friends or the loan

Why after all this time I've known you,
I feel like I'm stuck in a different zone?

I can't help but loathe the way I feel,
A book on the dusty shelf,

I try so hard for someone to know the real me,
But do I even know myself?

If you care –I know we're strangers
But would you escape this town with me?

We could learn new things –compassion, tenderness,
Hunger for the ultimate, how to be carefree?
i've been gone for too long
stopped for sometime;

ran out of words
             out of emotions or maybe feelings

of a deep, pitch black void inside of me.


but, it feels different now
as if i'm whole, maybe mended;

        i enjoy lying on my bed on a sunday morning
             as the sun spears my eye,
                      it doesn't hurt anymore.


i wrote a letter to myself after a long time,
and the first sentence was a happy one, surprisingly;

          i wrote about a new jacket i bought the other day,
                about filling my basket with flowers i killed,
                      only to keep them alive in my books.


i feel a change within me, a new spirit, rush
springing up in me, wanting to explode

            everywhere,
            

and honestly-
for the first time,
          
           i feel as if i'm back
          
                                 back and alive;
Take a peek inside his poems
if you really want to know him.
He hides himself deep, immersed
a tiny piece in every verse.

Take a peek and take your time
savour the moment of every line.
Relish the thought of what lies there
and appreciate his soul laid bare.

© Pagan Paul (31/08/16)
.
 Jul 2018 Shafiq Zafri Zakri
Kira
I read to forget
I read to feel
I read to escape
I read to heal

I read to remember
I read to distract
I read to connect
I read to backtrack

I’m okay when I read
but it hurts when I don’t
Characters are my friends
when my real friends won’t

The words are my freedom
from this desolate kingdom
Isolated by feedback and uncontrollable flashbacks

I need release from the pain
To breakout of these chains
They torture my brain
looking to blame

I keep running away
from the grief in my mind
I’m tortured by thoughts
I’m not ready to find

I’m trying to outpace my agony and resentment
But my only liberation is to accept contentment

My bookcase is filling with more empty reads
Who am I kidding, what more could I need
I'm fairly new to poetry. I love to use poetry to express certain emotions or feelings, but I'm still figuring out my style and learning more about it. I would love any criticism or insights you could give!
I write
because I feel-
more intensely
when wounds
I need to heal
life cares not
whether it embitters
agonises
or trips every heel

human tears
are mirrored
in words
the litany
of sorrowful years
adversity
spreads
like an epidemic
but to despair
and defeat
I'll never yield

my poems
shall be my shield
I know
living is never*
as easy as
walking through a field
* a Russian saying
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