Just read a poem gentlemen wrote that opened eyes me to Internet trolls who on poetry sites are using the emoji that of a thumbs downs Trying to destroy peoples love of poetry writing how pathetic these so-called trolls are they have nothing better to do In life Other than try and destroy other peoples lives and enjoyment shame on them they disgust me they run though the Internet like a plague Infecting everything they come In contact with
Internet trolls who infect us like a plague everything they come In contact with
When all the hopes prove to be meaningless then something happens such that it left everything and keeps aside the whole world for that particular happening. Fragile, futile, fermenting morals keep coming in the way and make us asinine in front of ourselves. They ask, whether, "You could do it?" in such a way where saying an 'ayes' shall **** us in that guilt. Things look recalcitrant four or five years from the past that, under no circumstances, it is something not to be happening but the supremacy always proves us wrong and changes the things in a moment so what are years? Love is not something that enhances or gets less but it's the trust and care which aggrandizes and misunderstandings which disparages. Even from the most hopeless paths, we see many dunes in the upcoming [back and forth] time and see no light; but there might be another 'someone' whom we are searching for and that is sitting and waiting and thinking behind that dune, 'it is not gonna end, and for me it has ended up.' Just a few steps can give 'light' to you and that 'light' something real unending. Not just time but that faith and confidence that resides in one that urges to go with a hopeless heart and that changes everything and cause the whole surrounding to also believe, that due to these deeds, "It Comes."
The poem depicts the phase that an individual passes when she/he feels hopeless but decides to work hard and then time changes the situations for her/him and she/he achieves everything that is needed...
My life is divided into different rooms as is my heart. For as long as I remember, from the time I used to care for decorations to the time I am too lazy to clean up. From the moments of sweet solitude by the window to the clinking glasses and winking eyes. The room belonged more to them than to me.
And I often found it unsettling, as if on a night when I would be hiding under covers not knowing what to fear, someone would knock at the door and with that knock, would come a pair of shoes and a set of clothes, holding a person whose face, motive or aim would soon be inconsequential.
And slowly she would drag me out of each room, snatching away each memory that she touched, knocking down my bookcases filled with my escape, tearing away the wallpapers behind which I hid my unvoiced cries. The doors would be shut on my face, leaving me out in a storm on a moonless night, leaving me alone to face all that I didn’t know of taking away all that I know.
She don't know how to cuss, she just sounds like her mother. She ain’t a woman and she sure as **** ain’t honest like she promised. She’s an **** crier but she's such a pretty liar and by that I mean she said she'd "change". Don't be cautious, don't be kind. She’s committed, I'm her crime. Push my button anytime. She’s got her finger on the trigger, but her trigger finger's mine. She’s a golden flame, she’s the poison in my veins. Perfect ******, she takes her aim. I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows her name. By the way, she’s been uninvited. Because all she says are all the same things I did. Call me heartless, call me cold. She’s italic, I'm in bold. Call me a *****, she better watch her tone. She better love me, because she’s just a clone. She’s being a fuss. She already was shady enough but now she’s just a shadow. She loves her friends like I love my split ends and by that I mean she cuts them off.