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Long ago,
There was a boy,
He felt alone,
Without a joy,

All that he had,
All that he’d done,
He deserved so much less,
Than what he had won,

This boy was broken,
Shattered like glass,
He thought himself stupid,
A pain in the ***,

But then he met her,
On a cool autumn’s day,
She lit up his world,
She showed him the way,

She picked up the pieces,
No matter the cost,
And put him together,
Not a single piece lost,

She gave him her all,
And he gave her his,
And they both discovered,
What true love really is.
Just a story about a boy.
 Jan 2016 ylruceiram
MS Lim
The heart is the beginning
and the end
the world would forget us
but the heart never ceases to be a friend.

Where else in a troubled and sad life
could I bend
but only towards this sanctuary
whose comfort in my every sorrow ever does lend?
* inspired by a conversation with Jane Bennett, a fellow-writer in HP
 Jan 2016 ylruceiram
Emily B
they tell me
i saved a life
once

it felt like surgery
self-inflicted

the incision widened
day-by-day

my reluctant hand
reached in

i cut my heart out
to save a soul

and here i sit

grieving

all the pretty

lives lost
Little wolf, let me tell you something. The world is an imperfect place. It is violent and cruel. You will not learn from me and my lessons, little wolf, you will learn from your own. And I could shelter you and smother you, and yet you will still learn the worst of the world.

You will love and you will be loved. You will run and you will collapse. You will hurt and others will follow you because of your bright light. That same light will attract others who want to put out your flame. But I tell you now, little wolf, they cannot. They cannot burry your soul and quit your howl. The moon will always be yours and you will always be the symbol of love and strength
You think you know me
Because you know of patterns
You know the way of people
And you've been told the way the world turns..

You expect my next move
As if we are playing a game of chess
And you anticipate your next win
Upon my unmoved guess..

I tell you now,
that you know nothing of my mind
I move with the waves of my heart
My chosen next move is mine.
 Jan 2016 ylruceiram
R
1/2
 Jan 2016 ylruceiram
R
1/2
we were different states of matter,
but we always had chemistry.
The shine in his eyes has all but died
Drained of all that is good
Where it once was, filling the void
Depression and madness now loom.

Dying, internally
Only in the late teens
Who knew a midlife crisis could occur at 18 ?
Couldn't sleep and needed to get these demanding voices out of my head. Good night.
Poetry shines with light and beauty,
True art woven by intricate words.
It can sing songs so stunning,
That it outshines the best of songbirds.

But that’s only half of the story...

Poetry also grows in cold dark places,
In the pits of immense pain.
Fed by air filled with suffering,
Nurtured by acid rain.

As it shines with such light and beauty,
Poetry embraces true darkness.
What a conundrum it is,
That we can have *beautiful madness.
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