Påłpëbŕå

Påłpëbŕå Oct 2023

meh

after reading thousands of pages dipped in love
words formed from bleeding ink yet it isn't enough
for me to formulate something of my own
all these fearsome feelings i wish to set in stone
the rise in my pulse on seeing him, the smile that touches my lips
the way he looks at me from far, his hand in mine- grazing my fingers tips
i wish i could tell you how this is making my mind churn
the want i feel for him and how this desire makes me burn
but i belive the hopeless romantic in me took it's last breath
and i killed it while it laid on it's death bed
so i stay with it's memories and corpse
suffering day and night with my writer's block
nothing inspires me anymore
maybe filling in the blanks satisfies the core?
so i believe that the best poems spring from the worst heartbreaks
beacuse being in love isn't what that makes
me pick my pen up and write my heart down
to make my poetry the talk of the town!

Påłpëbŕå Oct 2023

m.o.n.otonous

everything hurts, from my heart to my head
for all these years the lies that i had been fed
are now showing their true colour of shades
blue to black with dust of gray in spades
i feel like a ***** in the oxymoron that this life is
where temporary pleasures feel like a permanent bliss
i am scared to my death as i exhale fear with every breath
because all that i knew was a mirage in this desolate desert
and now my personalities react after being **** inert
i want one thing but need the other
i think one thing but do the other
there's chaos running through my veins
unstable are my senses and mad is my brain
anxious is what i am all day long
and so all this forever feels wrong
i have done something i wasn't supposed to
and the what if scenario has now come true
i have let down people and disappointed their hopes
the very thought of betraying them doesn't help me cope
i wish i could turn back time do things right
but wonder i what would be my insight?
if allowed to go back would i change a thing?
or would i choose the same ****** song to sing???

Påłpëbŕå Sep 2023

metamorphosis

it's funny how once could i write
long long paragraphs about a feeling
with nothing just loneliness in site
could i think about falling and healing
but now nothing great comes to my head
just these plain old lines whisper
leaving me desolate and doubtful instead
my pen full of ink and papers being crisper
yet struggle i to put two words in a sentence
everyone and everything is more or less a pretence
was i born to be this person that i am today?
was there this much potential in me all the way?
then why as a child did i dare to dream big,
wanting to grow a fruitful tree from a twig
yet my life's been an unending autumn
floating now, i remember rock bottom
because when i had nothing i had all my words,
and this moment when i ain't empty, inside me breathe two worlds-
one is about contentment and satisfaction
but the other, puts me in this torturous traction
to do more, be more and become more
if nothing special, but better than before
and all day i live in this conflict
two ends tugging at me, the pain they inflict
i don't know what this ******* process is,
merely morning stress or a **** metamorphosis?

Påłpëbŕå Sep 2023

a yelp for help

often wonder i how would it feel
when my cut open wrists would bleed
saving me from taking the next breath,
i happily choose the easiest of death!
because living is a chore i cannot do
everything's black, devoid of a hue!

yet a part of me wishes to be found
hearing me out when i suffer without a sound

helping me come back from this dark deep hole
and make me acquainted with my spirited soul

for i know there's a part of me that wants to survive
a beating heart and bruised body still wanting to thrive

a little push to pull me from the edge
a shoulder to lean on is all i fetch

somebody, anybody to shake some sane sense into me
when the noose around my neck constricts tightly

i wish i could just speak whatever is bottled within
and maybe that could save me from committing this sin

but who? how? when? and what? could help this failing will
a person, a parent, a sign or a shrink would help me before i ****?
or is there one another being who'll be there?
-the one standing behind the mirror with a sanguine stare