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  2d Cleo
Congrats you !
You did it !
You won.
How does it feel ?
You must be proud...
cause you're an *******.

Being the deciding factor was such the priority.
Casualties of war, such a small price for authority.
Here's a message to you, the ******* majority...
"Please shoot, cause I'm shooting back." signed, The Minority.

We're not the victor,
don't give us your spoils.

This ain't no "up rise".
This is the end to the compromise.
In the defense of The Antagonized,
we're not responsible for this divide.

We're not the victor,
don't give us your spoils.

We trusted the secrets.
You were trusted to tell.
We wanted to talk.
You wanted to yell.
We wanted to move on.
You wanted to dwell.
You destroyed our heavens
and created our hells.

We're not the victor,
don't give us your spoils.

We gave you a community.
You and all your unwanted could have lived here.
You had the fairness, the compassion, the love.
We were in your corner,
all of them.
We were unwavering.
You had us in the palm of your hand...
so you crushed us.
So here are the fruits of your labour.
They're not so fresh.
You're left with the flies and the stench!
I hope this taste stains your tongue
and the odor scorches your nostrils.
After all,
you've earned it...

the spoils.
Cleo 4d
There's an egg in my closet
sitting in the dampest corner.
It's too small to hate
but too fragile to ignore.
I don't see another.
I can't find its mother.

There's an egg in my closet
that's grown seven sizes.
Its shell is shaded crimson
and it sinks into the carpet.
I don't want it to stay.
It's getting in my way.

There's an egg in my closet
that's splitting in the middle.
I hear the chirps bellowing
and I can see its innocence.
I'm watching it hatch.
I'm getting attached.

There's a chick in my closet
that's marking its territory.
Its feathers ruffle thin
and it keeps trying to fly.
I'm watching it grow.
I don't want it to go.

There's a swan in my closet
that takes up the whole space.
I've moved all of my clothing
and fed it  fruit from the vine.
I've built it a nest.
I'm watching it rest.

I've made it a home.
I call it my own.
Cleo Jun 6
To the girl that comes after me,
I'm sorry.
I've threaded my presence in his mind,
woven between the beam of my smile and the sound of my laughter.

I'm sorry for the times he'll say my name instead of yours,
and for the songs he keeps skipping on that playlist.
The sting on your tongue when he kisses you...
that's the taste of me that he still holds on to.
Forgive him for the photos he archived instead of deleted,
and for the gifts in the shoe box that he swore he gave away.

I'm sorry for his mood in the middle of September,
and for the walls he struggles to break down.
I'm sorry for every time he says he's fine and you know he's lying.
He's trying.

So please don't give up on him...
Be gentle. Don't be loud.
Treat him like a king and he'll love you like a queen.
Give him your attention. All of it.
He likes that.

Be honest with him...
He's really good at seeing through *******.
Kiss him in the morning like you didn't see him the night before.
Pray for him. Pray with him.
Hold him when he's broken,
and keep that same energy when he's whole.

...and if you can,
make him forget he ever loved me.
Give him everything I couldn't.
Do everything I wouldn't... I didn't.
Show him what he was missing,
then hopefully you'll forgive him
for the gifts in the shoebox that he swore he gave away.

I hope you light that **** on fire. I hope the ghosts all fade away.
  Jan 29 Cleo
Moon light knight
Dear myself,
Thank you for surviving all these years, even if we know that we're struggling.

Thank you for being strong, to face all the problem, even if we're the only problem.

I know you're tired, me too.
I know you're hurting, me too.
I know you're barely breathing, me too!
I know you can't even show your smile anymore.

But, thank you for already survive these hard years.
Thank you.
Its me, who lost everything.
But i'd always tried to survive and keep going....
Wish me luck.
  Jan 24 Cleo
Sana Abdul Rehman
The last time I saw you
I was so sure
That my feelings for you
Had flown away
Like birds in migration

Little did I realise
That migratory birds



Cleo Jan 24
I buried my secrets in the garden
now overgrown by white roses with blades for thorns...
speckles of black paint on their petals...
Sins reborn.

I hid my secrets in the spines of my books;
Hawthorne and Gilman... dispiriting reads.
Top shelf, out of reach.
Font too small... the pages bleed.

I covered my secrets with the wallpaper.
Cracked cement beneath layers of teal.
All four walls slightly stained and faded.
The edges tear. The corners peel.

I masked my secrets with lavender and sage.
Deep breath. Exhale.
Candles lit... incense is burning.
The scents fade. Still stale.

I drowned my secrets with music;
Violins and Saxophones.
Instrumental Frank Sinatra...
High Pitch, Wrong tone.

I buried my secrets in the garden
now overgrown by white orchids with soil made of coal...
speckles of black paint on their petals.
Same garden...different hole.
Cleo Jan 17
There are people that hide because they want to be found,
and there are people that hide because they don't.
I don't know who, or what, you're hiding from.
Are you afraid of me? Of God? He can't find you either.

Either way, I stopped looking for you.

I left messages on your machine.
I cried.
Yet I couldn't help but wonder if something bad had happened
or if you just changed your number.

Either way, I stopped calling.

I feared for a long time that you were in danger.
I feared that you were hiding from evil.
I thought that maybe you needed to be saved.
Then I realized that whatever you were hiding from haunted you because you poked it first.
No one can save you from your own consequences.

Either way, I stopped caring.

I was willing to break down doors to find you.
I would've.
I would've traveled the world to help you.
But I feared that I'd find you in Santo Domingo
smoking cigars with your toes in the sand
and NOT thinking about me.

Either way, I stopped trying.

You are either living a life worth hiding for
or hiding from a life worth living.

Either way, you poked it first.
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