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Willow shade Oct 11
Live stream from Gandza bombed by Armenia

Nikita Sep 28
When I grew up. I thought that to be respected, I needed to be strong. As hard as nails.

I believed that aggression was my friend, a friend that protected me from men.

Aggression was never a friend, just a women desperate for control. Over time she became a cancer, eating away at my sanity.

She brought chaos and raged storms when she was unsure of what to do.

When she is calm, she draws me detailed pictures of suicide and sings me sweet songs of deceit.

If only setting her free was something I was strong enough to do.
the mind of a person
overwhelmed by Self-deception
does not try to know reason
to think or believe in
advice and criticism given
by someone
contrary to his speculation
he always examine
as it was an insult to his disposition
he continuously remain
in the grip of apprehension
hostility and aggression.

©deovrat 26.09.2020
It’s actually quite fun
throwing mud,
if you can accept it
sticks sometimes
to your own slow fingers,
staining them.

But gather it all up
in handfuls,
dirt, wet for preference,
as missiles targeted
away there:

At the dark heart hated
by us all
and by all means repeat
the treatment,
until the target becomes
the victim.

There. Hopefully you feel
better now.
Willow shade Jul 23
It is me - Azerbaijan!
The hero of the history
On the shore of The Caspian
living manfully and free!

Many times enemies tried
to destruct and divide
Among three aggressors
we defended our pride

And the 'world community',
full of all shames and pity,
Just tell me a rotten lie
that support my integrity!

Let me hear your cry
for Karabakh, everyone!
Respect the real history!
Will we hear anyone?!

For centuries we were wronged
Will you wait for another?!
The son of my father's killer
Is beating my brother!

We faced through the history
Armenian hypocrisy
Put your hands on your conscience,
just show your democracy!

We condemn the historical aggressive policy of Armenia and the insensitive attitude of the world community.

Karabakh is Azerbaijan.
Stop believing provocative and fictitious history.
Research, respect and support the real history!
Claira Lymei Jul 4
Walls are attractive.
Walls are so ******* attractive.
I want to smash my ******* head against a wall.
What a ******* stupid fat ****.
See a ******* wall?
That wall.
The wall.
That’s where your ******* heads going.
Over and over and OVER.
Crimson red walls.
Concussion red walls.
Death painted walls.
******* die.
You stupid f-
Oh sorry, I saw a wall, where were we?
Daa Rajab May 29
It might be said:

Don't let me let you go.
Don't you know that I
Want to hold you tightly?
To grasp the essence of home
And also a painful memory.
Memories can affect a lot of people.
Bullet Apr 18
Pushing limits walking away
Why wait when I could act
Misplace passive aggression
With a pistol and a guilty conscious
(AIM) reaches are not running
When space bars cage an existence
Pulling words from these characters
Shooting messages flips to shaders through the windows
Online presents will determine you’re future income
Pass the aggression into a sight with an eye at pin point
Withdrawing (ATM), coloring red as the floor
Checking the walls as pink matter
Saving the mixes for the pallets on set
Depositing later all the info I need to  evade
Panic attacks walking
Bullets wait for running
I’ll find joy in drowning in my own painting
() double word meaning
Nikita Apr 9
Wrap your arms around me
Let’s trade you say
A thousand kisses
For a thousand burns

Let’s dance you say
Instead I bow
I flail, fall and pray
Please, please, oh please

Wake up.
The flames no longer tickle
You no longer want to dance or play
The burns singe my skin, dark and brittle

Check mate.
It’s over.
You’ve won.
You always do.

I never wanted to hurt you.
Passion or aggression? It’s a question I ask myself daily. What price am I willing to pay to have a voice?
Daa Rajab Mar 27
It might be said:

Today, I watched the azure sky
As the crowd before me dispelled into their places,
Leaving no one in sight.
I pondered on the silence,
Realised how much I'd missed it,
How much I'd resist divulging in the seas of voices,
How much I appreciated the essence of sound.
I know it no more,
I've grown accustomed,
To watch.
The sky looks brighter,
As cotton for clouds hover within patches of clear cobalt.
But it's not the same.
This is a little different.
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