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 Apr 2021 pandemoniac
Poppy
Limbs tangled
Relaxed
Gentle warmth
Distant TV noises
Golden light through window
Silences, never awkward
Perfect conversations
Shared jokes and laughter
This is the desired comfortable
Once you realize
you're part of a dying machine
marvel at your worth
and the part
you play in the movement,
little cog.
What do you see?
when you look at me,
is it the same as what you say?
Tell me what you saw,
that made you love me,
or not,
Tell me,
girl of my dreams,
maybe it was true after all

What do they see,
when they look at me,
I wish I could hear what they said,
I just know it's not the same as hers,
I hear no love in their voices,
love,
is the difference,
they are blinded by the evil,
but what is shrouded in mystery,
born from fear,
shall stay hidden,
I wish I knew what they saw,
It may be true after all.
Part 1. I always wonder what people really think of me. Is it the same as who they say I am. Am I who they think I am?
It's my only friend,
when the others leave,
I never sleep,
for the water never ends,
My friend is crying,
So I try and clean his eternal sorrow,
I sit and listen,
There is no other way,
No other place,
but here,
by the river.
Part 1. The only one I could turn to when it was just me.
 Mar 2021 pandemoniac
Mikko
The hubris of Man, to think we matter,
that our acts or life have any worth
I proclaim it rotten like so much mirth
The poor get poorer, the rats grow fatter
so spread not your lies, for I know better
The Void left our values a still-birth
We're cells further growing this cancer's girth
climbing higher on a failing ladder

Thus let us burn, we don't deserve a knife
let roam the terrors I dream of nightly,
open Pandora's box now, loosen its clasp
Let the End come now, there's no after-life
it'd change nothing, most just stare on blankly
And talk not of Love, it's out of my grasp
Spat this out onto my phone's memo on the bus about a year ago. Haven't written a full new sonnet in 15 months. Fear of blank paper or some ****.
I feel as free as a kite
Whom you offer freedom only as much as you could bear .
You all let me fly but only to a certain height.
And pull me down the moment I get there .
Don't I look free ? But am I not tied?
Please don't be that way don' t be so  bare.
Let me fly untied.
It's cruel here I am scared .
What kind of freedom is that of a kite? This is what I have been wondering that's how I have been feeling.

— The End —