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 Oct 2014 shosho Rea
Erenn
Mavericks
 Oct 2014 shosho Rea
Erenn
Spouting nonsense about hardship nonchalantly
Reaching for the sun that never came
Dimmed light poles were the only ones glinting like stars
Laughing at how silly that was but doing it on repeat
Feeling content with living that life

Knowing all this will be gone one day
Seizing every second while it lasts
Demurring all thoughts of deleterious inputs
It will only damage what matters inside

Let laughter be brought in
Tears of joy on lame anecdotes
Let the inner child in you come out from that chest
Let all wars be resolved by-
Shrouding papers, Cutting air & Throwing stones
Catching every raindrop in that heavy downpour
Hilarity at every moment when you’re with your friends

Despite its wonders enclosed by fatuous walls
'Boxes' are the entities of our translucent merriment
Creating that canopy out of our prodigious stronghold
We feel unscathed by the demon’s vice
We’re just the same
As we are inside

We converse as we may
Not thinking yet preached ingenuity
Of benevolence & truth
We somehow knew stained past
Couldn't be bleached out easily
Because some stains couldn't be  removed

And we are all  Mavericks

We don’t know perfection
We don’t strive for attention
They called us insane
We call it intuition
We belong to one body
With infinite traits of emotion

It’s alright to be different
Pay no attention to what they say
Because we are unique

*We enact the happiness that we create.
Sometimes we just forget to just be ourselves.
Pretense is just running weary in your mind.
It's not real. Be the Reality.
Be who you really are:)
 Oct 2014 shosho Rea
Sad Girl
I hope i'm fooling everybody
With my fake gimmick of a cover up
And I hope it doesn't highlight my lack of beauty
But the only thing i fear it highlights is the lie that drips from my fake
*"I don't give a ****."
 Oct 2014 shosho Rea
Moon Shine
I don't know
The difference between
Tired and depression

I don't know
The feeling of sweet awareness
Only the feeling
Of numb nostalgia


I don't know
Why my scars have faded
Yet I still remember
The cold pain of blade against pale sad skin

I don't know
Why I continue to scream in my dreams
Yet my nightmares have ceased

I don't know
Why I can never give a straight answer to why this hurts
I can only say

I don't know
It starts
in the quiet
itching in the fingers
like new skin knitting under blistered burns.

I have always written.
Before I had my letters
(before the lessons
with stubby pencils
curving sense out of the air)
I would scrawl nonsense waves
folding and boiling
in a crash of senseless surf
onto pages meant for pictures

I scribbled a whole Atlantic
before sense and sound
delivered the waves to reason.

I still find it hard,
when writing,
not to let the rolling sea
scatter into fragment waves
that whisper into the breeze of my fingers.

I have tried many addictions,
I have spent people like money.
I have tied my hands
to stop from fussing at the leaves.
If I ever loved I left it still spinning,
but I have never lost the itch

a pen to scratch its bleed of ink
into a sweet clean ****** page.
To scrawl my feint history
in every broken harbour
of her yielding skin.

— The End —