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 Nov 21 Nahin
Golden Flower
Do the flowers mourn when one is picked?
I know that question is kinda morbid and sick.
But I’ve always wondered if they somehow know,
Like for weddings and birthdays that it’s their time to go?

Do they feel sorry for lovestruck dames,
That pull off petals whilst saying their crushes’ names,
That pulled the last petal on “He loves me not”?
Do they feel bad that she’s distraught?

Do they compete on who’s the prettiest?
Each person has an opinion of which flower is the best,
Of their looks are they actually aware,
Do flowers even care?
 Nov 20 Nahin
Jeremy Betts
I've run out of sheep to count
Leaving me wide awake through this living nightmare
Sowing a seed of doubt
Is life's refusal to even consider fighting fare
Each step taken while walkin' about
Feeds on the back of my mind, whispering, "do it if you dare"
Fueling despair
Instigating internal warfare
Causing excessive ware and tare
Resulting in a head of hair gone bare
And I'm forced to bite my tongue completely off
To keep from admitting I no longer care

©2024
 Nov 20 Nahin
Jeremy Betts
Awful is
The particular sound my tears make when they hit the ground
You'd think maybe they'd be entertaining, coming from a clown
But misery echos a history and the volume can not be found
Any smile is a complex frown I've simply practiced upside down

©2024
 Nov 13 Nahin
Druzzayne Rika
Is it too late for it not to be too late now?
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
 Nov 12 Nahin
Nylee
wherever I will go
he'll move away
tilted reality
unaware, I am,
he's passing me
changing his paths
so we never meet ever
but we are together
for a second
holding our breath
blinking our eyes
beneath the blue skies
.
 Nov 12 Nahin
Nylee
In the torch of fire,
someone is burning,
dying every second
to keep the flame alive
.
 Nov 12 Nahin
Nylee
a half line
incomplete stanza
an unrhymed sentence
well defined trauma

the poet's thought
uncaptured on the paper
many drafts
and crushed papers
around the study

there is a lot
same thoughts
and some sought
no process
little sense
world of words
and many buds

more time needed
to bloom
and here comes
the start of coming doom.
 Nov 12 Nahin
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

— The End —