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under the viel

reconstruct a broken heart

mend it with love

the stitches might come undone,

so stuff it with meaning

the filling might exit,

for there exist yet incomplete sutures

 

a month’s end is just a page flip,

next chapter has the key scheme of being tender

why assume what will help placate,

tip-tap, tick-tack of phonetic musing

justice is what a muse renders

 

creating is the symbolic nature,

acceptance they don’t condone

speaking, they do seldom

 

bright young alive, till when

the express leaves tonight

i wait by the stands, herein

 

replicas of similar edges

a rubix’s cube failed to fathom

cheesy post-its stuck to the wall,

all giving ideas of dates, memories to be kept

you above them all,

ascending higher than the native sky goers

slip the serum just enough that truth gathers,

keeping it stuck to the shelves

black and blue is a bruise in healing,

a yellow-ish hue, purple at the beginning

 

where are the thoughts,

the ones that lie

met up with people,

i forget what they wore, then they shied

doesn’t matter if it’s for eyes to see

no one hears them however, like me

thoughts, positions, prompts and cartoons

intrinsic nature of hiding it in words

but truth is everywhere, it always stood

 

searching still, damaging skills

there exist multiple

but there stand only a few tall

some nine houses behind the hill

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Written by
poeticaofisshues
21 / F / the in-betweens
Published
Jan 31
Lines·Words
40·229
Notes

the amount of metaphors in this is wild

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