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Ceyhun Mahi Aug 2021
This artful mind of mine colors the white,
And lightens up the dark upon my page,
Hidden within my since-birth hueless sight,
Getting much more volume with every age.
This artful mind of mine colors the ears,
Which is a way right to the soul and heart,
Who's shielding it away from all the fears,
Making them strong, by manifested art.
This artful mind of mine is like a saint,
A flawless light of Truth, helping the poor,
By offering them a radiant paint,
Not touched by evils, but from within the core.
    Today I came to a truthful conclusion:
    This artful mind of mine, is my solution.
MisfitOfSociety Aug 2020
Zombie girl,

Do you weep,
For those you ****?
Do you feel cold,
Without your second soul?

Zombie girl,

Skeleton’s always smile.
Your skin’s getting colder,
Like a winter in your summer.

Zombie girl,

You’re an open casket,
Something warm died inside it.

Zombie girl,

Hang it up in your closet.
Don’t forget to close it.

In the house of the living.
It’s like being alive,
But never being able to die.

On the surgeon’s table.
Gave its soul to death,
And she said her first goodbye.

She opened up,
The bee and the flower bud.
She slammed her petals shut.

Why does it matter to you?
It belongs to me.
I stole its air,
That makes it free.

Hung it from an umbilical cord,
Tied under a broken crescent moon.
A stranger wore your skin,
Now they’re buried inside a human coffin.

She sung along to carols of the needle man.
Stillborn chorus of the cold dead thing in her hand.

She felt it die.
I heard the crocodile cry.
When she gave her first goodbye.
Ryzeofthepoet Sep 2018
You're the most unco and clumsy person I know
It doesnt really matter how many times you label yourself as "ninja"
I miss how you would argue and try convince me that you're actually artful and cunning when it came to being a 'ninja'.
-      She was a dreamer who lived in
an insomniac world. Nothing came easy…
      every time she tried to begin,
she would stumble and fall, but that
    didn’t stop her. Although she thought
differently...her will could withstand anything
    thrown in her way, just another challenge fought.
The past haunted her days, shadowing almost
      every move…every single breath. Time
always promised to make things better,
      but she knew better than to find
truth in those words. Truth lay somewhere
    far from where she had ever let herself dream,
too heavy from all the weight she carried.
    There was only one time she let herself lean…
letting her weight get the best of her, thinking
      she could find a way to dream peacefully forever,
but even then she failed to succeed.
      She lost the ability to hold her world together.
   Indifferent to the world, numb to all
emotion, she lost hope in being set free.
   The darkness surrounding so great; faith too small.
So she poured her pent up pain,
     into artful master pieces.
She sketched abstract obscurities
     that depicted her darkest of secrets.
She painted intangible thoughts and
   feelings she longed to be fulfilled with through
majestic words that put anyone who dared
   to read, in the footsteps of her soul. Broken and blue
she crafted old warn memories into the
     picturesque landscapes of her wildest dreams. She
elegantly danced with the monsters under her bed and
     gracefully with the skeletons in her closet… breaking free.
there is more to be added to this poetic thought, eventually leading to "She is…", but figured if I posted part one it would motivate my inspiration to continue working with these brewing ideas.

— The End —