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A year ahead, a year passed by,
The doors are still opened, and the ponds are still dry,
You did say you loved me, you did say goodbye,
Our irrevocable commitments proved promises are a lie.

Its the night recalling the showers in the springs,
And the weekend waltz to the attuned strings,
You revolve around me today, with your name engraved within,
Stop hiding from me, so long where have you been?

But for a second i believed..
As the gush of wind whispered your name,
The clock is ticking beside our picture frame,
You're flowing like the river,in your gown , camouflaging blue,
Lined up a lot of work, I still got seconds for you.
There is always a line between holding on and letting go.The proof is that we are constantly pulled by it.
My best poem'll be my suicide note
the very last thing I ever wrote
a goodbye to those who don't even care
but those I love, because life's unfair.
But this ain't it it's not good enough
but I swear one day I write the right stuff
and it'll be goodbye to the whole world
and so comes the darkness, black wings unfurled
dancer of the clouds,
ink of dream,
as if the sky, hushed
and utterly forlorn,
turned a pirouette.
The moon illuminated her
as she flowed with the rhythm
of the shadows

She cascaded her body
with a passion
she only knew too well

Her desolation slowly adrift
with each flying second
all consumed in a beautiful madness

No one would glimpse of
the illusion she brought to life

No one would hear
of the music she sought

No one would believe
a woman free in her own course

A woman dispossessed
by the eyes of an audience

A woman left to her dreams
as if she was insignificant

But she danced
despite the crowd telling her to stop

But she danced
despite being burned and bruised
for the fantasies she loved
before anything else in the world
Title inspired by Haruki Murakami's book of the same name. Although I haven't read it even once. Hahaha no idea if my poem is even remotely similar to the book all I know is that the namesake is catchy. :))
As the artist drew his stroke to a stop
As the musician caressed the strings of his guitar
As the poet scoured his mind for a rhyme
As the writer explored the maze of a story

I thought of the countless people
Unable to live as they wished
Perpetually condemned to
Ruin their lives for a slight feel of money
For a chance of survival
Even in the face of false hope

A young boy hauling a package
Heavier than himself
A woman feeding others herself
To feed her family
An old man withered by
Domineering machines and meaningless work
In his entire life

How can life be so funny
And gloomy all the same?
Passion has been gained, all dreams had been lost
If only the world lived a little fairly
If only dreams do not come at that high a price
Remind the children
in books
in tales
in life
that monsters
are not always supernatural
do not always live under beds
or creep inside closets
in fact they can be amongst us
walking, breathing, existing humans

Only they are far more real

**Far more terrifying
Lost, stumbling in the dark,
I struggled for Your light
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