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I stare at my reflection,
You're staring back at me.
A flaw so insignificant
And yet, it's all I see.
There's no way you define me
So why don't I agree?
Why is it that I still fear
It's you they see, not me?
 Jan 2019 the black rose
Khoisan
Though time has built
an
endless warp
of
suffering and pain
the
ancient dust of Africa
is
breaking down the chain
can you hear
the
winds of change
shifting
through the brain
the
ancient dust of Africa
makes
diamonds
in
the
falling
rain
a message of hope to all parents
Of
the
Third world child
What other kind              of creature could divide        
        Each different thing             into its different sides                
  With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
 Jan 2019 the black rose
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
 Jan 2019 the black rose
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
What is there to write
when the heart knows neither love nor heartbreak?
//On love//
 Jan 2019 the black rose
Samantha
I had forgotten where I was,

Looking up from my fantasy book,

Reality was such a sight to see,

I dare not give too long a look,

I'd rather live in denial and lies,

Turn away and overlook,

The truth will never go away,

Life is not a storybook,

And it's my choice to leave or stay.
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