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Why are we the way we are?
Fighting eachother
When we're all the same

We should be one
No more blame
War
Unnecessary hate
Or fame
We are all humans
Just people
And we will all die one day

We need conflict
But our brains do that for us
Why do we need to do it for each other?

We should be together
Fighting the internal monsters
Not judging if they have four eyes or green scales

We should be together
In our anger
And our confusion

We should be together
In our complexities
And beautiful strangeness

We should be together
Even when we don't like everyone
Because that's normal
While staying kind

We should be together
We are such complex creatures.

(This note was written by a giant slinky named gakablaisusgsbkaoak. His second least favorite color was mustard yellow.)
The kitchen in my head
Brought me onions to cut,
But I don't cry.

In the meantime, the sink is full;
Dishes are *****,
Spoons are sharp,
And coffee mugs do not predict the future.

Bread in the fridge,
And ice cream in the oven—
Let's drink one cup of tea before we kiss.
First the radicle must break through the shell.
Then feel the weight of the soil where she fell.
She must reach out, search the darkness for light.
In order to grow - bud, blossom and thrive.
Phases of recovery:
1. Recognize your trial, look to get through it
2. Experience the negative emotions
3. Look for meaning behind the experience
4. Grow from the pain
First comes flame; your beating heart sets alight.
Then comes rain; relieving the raging pain.
But now barely breathing, you feel nothing.
Your blackened heart pauses, before collapsing.
Poem inspired by the life cycle of a star and the stages of depression without the right intervention. The debilitating pain, and the coping mechanisms.
My hair is a tuft of clouds
Who knows
Maybe I could find an angel
Hidden there
Having fallen from the skies
Monday, January 20, 2025
8:05 AM

Running along the walls,

picking up those fallen in love,

setting right the wrong ideas,
pointing each toward the stars.

True love stands and runs along.
- on examining advice to fall in love, and finding falling counter productive.
You call me your dog,
your *****, your fool,
hurling words like stones
to shatter my heart.

I wag my tail anyway,
smiling through trembling lips,
fetching scraps of kindness
from the shadow of your hands.

You call me useless,
a beast beyond learning,
but I only want to please you—
to sit, to stay, to love.

Even as you turn away,
your voice cracking the whip,
I crawl through every wound,
bearing the weight of your name
like a leash around my soul.

For to be your dog
is still to be near you,
and I, the fool,
would bleed to feel you call me mine.
I cried so hard writing this poem. I'm deeply sorry for anyone who has ever felt the need to go to such painful lengths when loving someone. This is for you.
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