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Mori 1d
The mud-covered hands on that little body
trying to reach the iridescent blackberries.
And the clumsy tries
which directly grabbed the sharp thorns,
caused burning pain and red fluid
dripping out of slim fingertips.
"But I want them soooo bad",
the little figure whine while
stretching it´s legs until they started hurting.
Salty tears poured down it´s cheeks,
down it´s chin - and then -
onto the red fluid on it´s fingertips.
Sitting in the dark, licking it´s fingertips,
the figure tried to reach them again,
mixing red fluid, sticky spit, the juice of
squeezed blackberries and
the strongest ambition known to humanity.

If reaching blackberries was worth so much pain,
then why is nothing anymore?

I grew up in a little valley and every summer I used to collect all the blackberries. Even though my fingertips always ended up pink-reddish because of the thorns and my clumsy tries, it was so much fun.
Now, that I´ve been diagnosed with (social) anxiety, depression and bulimia, I really want to turn back time.
Do you ever lie in darkness,
Wondering if you will be
The star of some great epoch
In books of history?

Do you ever fear you'll fail,
And let everyone down
That expected you to be someone,
Instead of to be drowned?

There are so many expectations
For you to change the world
To deny is to refuse
Your duty.
Caloris 7d
What is it that you seek?
It's neither great nor meek.
May lead you out of bounds and measure,
Yet yielding satisfying pleasure.
Vines can reacheth up to the sky
Supp'rt'd by the sturdy pine
Given the chance to groweth and thrive
Curl and twist'd up rough skinn'd oaks
To seeth the w'rld through eyes up high
Unreachable but f'r those deep, stout roots
Anon finally able to floweth'r and fruit
Climbing up by the crackling bark
On the backs of the pines and belly of the oaks
2018 rewrite of 2016 poem
Starting a collection of just my Shakespearean poetry called
W'rds of a Nimble-Footed Mistress. check it out on my profile as I add more, I have so many still to post. Who knows, maybe I will finally publish something?
Abhijeeth Feb 8
This is the story of a boy,
spread his wings, thought he could fly.
This is the story of a man,
lost his feathers and sat back down.

He told everyone he would be famous,
grew up, realised he isn't Nostradamus.
He lashed out at everything and everyone,
lost all the battles that the boy would have won.

He is running away from everything,
the boy always wanted to be a king.
Where did it all go wrong,
he remembered being so strong.

Growing up isn't all that it's meant to be,
you keep getting knocked down constantly,
Man hit rock bottom, single tear in his eye,
the boy of autumn, he had lost his fire.

Don't worry, this wasn't the last chapter,
the man's life didn't end in disaster,
but that's the story for another day,
another chance for some wordplay.
This is a poem of a boy who thought he could be everything he wanted only to be thrown back down to reality as he grew up. It's the first part of a two part poem that I will write about disappointment,acceptance and redemption.
Your youth, ambition, and bliss will all fade away with the blink of an eye
So go be alive today, forget about tomorrow and live now while you still can
Abhijeeth Feb 6
I am losing the fire in me,
the fight in me, it's a tragedy.
I can't keep up the pace,
lost in this race, accepting my fate.

I never wanted to settle,
losing the battle, little by little.
Jack of all trades, master of none,
I lost all the fun, I think I am now done.

I can't see where I am going,
what am I doing, that window is closing.
I will be alright,
right? Is there a light?

We will take it one day at a time,
writing a rhyme, gonna be just fine.
I will travel the world, see everything,
read everything, a million songs to sing.

Life never follows the plan,
made by the man, lost in the sand.
But life is still yours,
get up of the floor and kick down the doors.
Everyone is in a race to accomplish something in this life. We feel we are running out of time to achieve our goals. This poem is about your best laid plans not working out and how that's not the end of the line because life has so much to offer.
I am sick and tired of everything.
Leave me alone.
Just give me pens
And markers
A laptop
A notebook

Stop bothering me.

I know, it doesn't work that way.
Please, free me.
I don't want to
Achieve all--
Reach heaven--
Feel happy--

I just want to breathe.
Gale L Mccoy Jan 16
I crave to be strong
these sparce muscles stand for what I've been neglecting
this body I wish to strengthen
as it is the vehicle to my success
I will arrive at the goal
with nothing less then this
flesh and bones and blood
and through time
I will learn to cater it's demands
as a mother coddles her child
for I am nothing more then
me myself and my body
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