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Polaris 9h
To write about you must be sacrilege, the greatest known sin
Opened, I fear, this gate could not keep vile secrets within
You are the scream in a room, where I was told to be quiet
Detached as I drag the shackled, you’re a boiling prison riot
You are the blood on this crime scene, the smiling murderer
Take this blame, as we wouldn’t admit: I am the real torturer
You are the grip, with little care whether used to hold or suffocate
And I can’t care, knowing without being in control, I might dissipate
You are the shadow, while my soul burns under the all-seeing light
I came here to fight, but I will surrender by you, my harrowing delight
Polaris Jun 24
You may as well know, you are not my chosen
But I admit, there are perks to not being frozen
Waking up to the sun in your eyes makes sure
That all you see today has a substantial allure
What I do in the shadows is much less exciting
Dreaming of swimming and sunscreen fighting
May I present you with fifty shades of bedsheet?
Yes, I have a tan, you can follow it on spreadsheet
Barbeques are the most fun, what is not to like?
Apart from the omnipresent smoke-in-eyes hike
It is bliss to walk barefoot, even a scientific dream
By the end of day, maybe send an excavation team
A lion’s breath feels apt, I can also sport a mane
If you pull me out of water, and leave me to drain
Dear Summer, I hope you find some consolation
In the fact, that this is my way of a loving narration
Polaris Jun 15
If only, from your
Sun of affection, there was
A ray left for me
Polaris Jun 15
It didn’t take me long to learn how to hide my hurt
The best thing, of course, is not to feel, mind inert
But I was faulty, better displayed on the clearance aisle
Plastered on my face that well-practiced fake smile
To be emotionally unavailable is to win this game; life
Yet there I was, feelings burning hot in me, what a strife
Emotions would surface from the cracks, they said
And they were right, still I left warning signs unread
Like I was trying to prove a point, I became a ‘fix all’
After every wound and burn mark, building another wall
I ran out of space and energy and drive so what’s next?
To give in and lose my stupid feelings, that much I suspect
What if I am meant to be faulty and I was made to feel
If I just care against my will, do I not deserve ever to heal?
Keeping my cards close to my heart is all that was treasured
Now I can’t even walk into a room without my steps measured
Part of me wants to conform, be calculating and to stay quiet
The aim is to be just brains, but my soul craves to be a riot
Maybe for once, if you can excuse me for the lack of appeal
Pretending in this theatre of life, I just want this act to be real
I love theatre but I wish my life resembled less of it
Polaris Jun 14
There are no tours to these ruins, and it has no claim to fame
The crumbling walls and empty halls echo society’s shame
No one adores the cracks on the floor left by careless feet
No life here, even grass can’t grow on this decaying concrete
And there’s a library with no words, books written in the sand
Age-old angel statues weep ashes in this hopeless wasteland
The air is frozen still, and I am desperate enough to choke on it
My body collapses, missing pieces like a convincing counterfeit
It is raining diamonds, a dear way to bleed out under pressure
Crumble into dust on a windowsill, undoing is a unit of measure
There are no ruins left here, just the wind carrying tears of angels
In this land of no combustion, our ashes forever remain strangers
Polaris Jun 13
The edges of my changing soles sleep in the worn-down set of 42 stairs
The sound of life echoes on the wall, escaping through all-coloured tears
Tired yellow rails sigh as the tight monkey grip is replaced by a gentle pat
See my childhood playground packing, the circus retired their last acrobat
The stone fragments are still the same, broken to fall into past tales outside
Brushing grass, only the muddy water feels for me as my two worlds collide
The town is loud with gossip, words melting through doors and bicycle racks
Feelings kissed onto the seats of a bus, love comes with burnt on price tags
As if forcing myself into my old skin could fit me into the boxes made for me
I twist me into the shape of your lies, curving around that poem about a tree
You forced the pen out of my hand and told me I’ll always miss the critical hit
But we write your character feeding on our pain, so call yourself a hypocrite
With my culture on my sleeve, ready to take the shots, be a bleeding devotee
Painting with your red hands, know I never betrayed you. You betrayed me!’
Polaris Jun 12
You
The time my eyes first met yours, the world stopped moving
Just long enough to feel, there was a point they were proving
And we pretended we didn’t care, yet our actions betrayed us
Buying time we can’t afford, wrapped in all we couldn’t discuss
Unfolding the other’s mind from punchlines, with our bare hands
Yet reality urges, as we keep dreaming about never-made plans
I used to just smile, when people compared themselves to magnets
But now I know, because talking to you is like exploring new planets
When we laugh, it feels like our souls reunited after a long time apart
I never found it so hard to listen to reason, and not to my stupid heart
Still, we hurt each other, and seek shelter in a blanket of our frustration
When we know we could heal instead; but blame it on life’s narration
How many words exist to tell you certainly, definitely, absolutely yes
Yet my letters flatten into lines, and ‘maybe’ is all I seem to possess
No ink stain could contain how grateful I am for the raw wonder of you
And the person I see myself though you, is the image I aim to live up to
I like to think this isn’t in vain, the endless swing of hello and goodbye
Maybe I get to love you in another life; just you, me, and the night sky
This poem was a goodbye
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