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i like artists
artists of all kinds
artists of words
artists of colour
artists of thoughts
they're the civilisation
they're the world
they're the visionaries
the children
the lovers
the hearts of gold
an artist is the one with the voice
the radiance of the sun
the summer in your eyes
the lover in disguise
the hurt in the dark
the tears and the smiles
an artist hides deep down
the one who lives in pain and shame
they say artists will never survive
i say artists are the reason we're still alive
this is a poem dedicated to every single artist there is out there
My best friend
has a new ring

I fear

this is the beginning
of my lonely feelings

...


oh yes.

ill still wait patiently,

for


him

*to come along
One of my dearest friends just got engaged.
Some sinking feeling,
mixed with joy
and a little hope. :)
Too scared to take another step
too tired to go all the way
too deep to back out and start over
my heart always kept at bay

why is it in this society
we shape our actions so sharp
our fears, our concerns, our inner strives
so clothed in our never-ending doubt

we need to look to light
so keen and soft and true
that is always sure to bring us
back as we begin to brew

sweet and longing tales of old
that keep our hearts so soft
like clay in the potters hand
or creation in the makers land
red puffy eyes
broken glass
ripped skin
pulled out hair
tears falling
feelings crashing
self hatred
self regret
feeling worthless
i'm easy to forget
losing weight
losing sleep
losing hope
losing dreams
I
am
lost
what is beauty?
I have no clue.
but then again
does anyone?

beauty isn't crying yourself to sleep every night
beauty isn't slicing at your own skin
beauty isn't wishing you were dead
beauty isn't skipping meals

this isn't beauty, so
what is?
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