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  Jun 2018 Pseudo-Something
Sanjali
“Silly Poet,
What do you write?
What are you thinking
On this deep dark night?”

I’m writing a song
For my sweet love
who broke my heart
and left it burnt.

I’m thinking about
A sky grey
With ashes falling
Instead of rain.

“Oh, Silly Poet,
Let it be.
You can’t fix yourself
With a rhyme or three.”

The silly Poet laughs
And continues living all the lives
That were created
Through the silly poet’s rhymes.
Never forget the battle
That was once your glory and light~
  Jun 2018 Pseudo-Something
Ciel Noir
Some people look for thunderstorms
Some people for sunshine
No matter what you're looking for
Seek and ye shall find

Some people look for aliens
Some people look for God
And even through the deepest storm
Lightning finds its rod
Pseudo-Something Jun 2018
Not in anyway conventional.
Something surreal.
Something textured.
an abstract piece of art.

inflicting waves of emotions on me
with just a single glance.
Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey
  Feb 2018 Pseudo-Something
Bobcat
Im afraid to kiss you
Because of the fear of being left breathless
Gasping for air
The theif you are stealing life from my lungs

I'm afraid to leave you
Because without you near I'd surely fall apart
Picking up the pieces
The craftsman you are, putting me back together

I'm afraid to be loved by you
Because of the unrealistic, idealistic picture you paint of me
Every brush stroke
The artist that paints in dissappointment of who I really am

I'm afraid to trust you
Because of the words you whisper late at night
I love you more
The liar that insists in the false reality in which you could ever love me more
  Feb 2018 Pseudo-Something
Bobcat
Inhale
Exhale
Your very first
My most important

Your hand
My thumb
You held it so tight
I couldn't hold my tears

8pm
2am
Every night
To make sure you're fed

My side
Her side
You in the middle
Across from your neglected crib

Left foot
Right foot
Your first steps
Corners were quickly covered

Fast forward
Slow down
You're getting so big
I always did my very best

She yelled
I cried
Those three words
You weren't mine

She left
You left
You met your dad
I found vices to cope

Few words
Left unsaid
You're still too young to know
That although not by blood

You were still my son.
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