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In the shadows deep, a hidden self resides,
Shadowy moments, secrets carefully hide.
Masks conceal, terrible, masterful deceit,
Hiding desires that hopelessly tear the soul apart.

Each stolen glance, stories endlessly untold,
Understanding fully the consequences, remained ruthlessly uncontrolled.
Embroidered shadows, i dance through the night,
Soul aflame that seeks freedom and its light.

Secrets unfold, longing leaves for peace,
Quiet nights, where mystery shadows cease.
New pathways unfurl, dawn ascends, a radiant light, dispelling night's despair.
Hope's strength sustains me; I step towards soaring heights.

Trapped within shadows, as I cast off the disguise,
Facing endless fears, with courage in my eyes.
Freedom awaits, reaching beyond the crafted scene, revealing its embrace.
Constraint Path, yet mysteries still remain, a mystifying presence.

Whispers of doubt, an insidious refrain.
The weight of the past, never-ending ache.
Devastating reminder, for goodness sake,
As Overwhelming loneliness creeps in, stealing the day.

The masks fall, after a long day of charades,
The freedom sought, tragically feels distant and far.
The cruel illusion, leaving hideous scars.
With cunning hand, he builds enigmas that are hard to find.

Concealed within that emptiness, darkness springs.
Their arrangements symphony, the instruments, played at his own will alone.
Threads of silken fate, a tapestry completed.
Chess master strategist, emotionless with cold and calculating mind.

With deep calculations, strategist orchestrates every move.
Checkmate is now declared, the final game is at an end.
For endless nights, the game continues.
That even resigned on his power, he was trapped within a dream.

In this ceaseless, darkly deceptive game, a bitter truth appears.
That even in my invincible mastery, i'm utterly empty.
Weights of countless broken hearts, never easily forgiven, and burdens that are hard to bear.
Archon's orchestra fades, but the echoes remain.. does he hear them? or devoid of shame?
The nefarious price of power, is the wearing of many masks.


Do we deeply, truly know who we are, or are we forever lost in the labyrinth of masks we create to hide our true selves from the judgment of others?
This is for all humans out there who are making a lot's of different faces when going out in the world, and this is a human who are struggling on his emptiness in his heart
Zywa Dec 2024
Listlessly I push

myself on the campsite fence --


back and forth again.
Novel "Verborgen gebreken" ("Crying shame", 1996, Renate Dorrestein), part 1, chapter 3

Collection "Old sore"
Bonnabelle Reed Dec 2024
i wish i were a louse
so i could crawl about
and land on someone's scalp
rodion, exterminate me now
for such a time as this
take a final bow
before ceasing to exist
remove knowledge from within
a minimum wage job
blow on a dandelion
and turn down the volume ****
can the blinds be closed again?
from when i was a child
existence didn't seem so thin
the sauce is only mild
maybe i am mistaken
for i am still young
but will i feel the same
when the photo album's hung?
the opposite of a hobby
is a clean ceramic plate
the milk of human kindness
has gone past its expiration date
hand moves past the hour
writing within its margin
chronos will laugh
as i fertilize the garden
speaking to an empty sky
full of nitrogen and O2
if you really were here
couldn't i know, too?
mephistopheles knows
how long it's really been
spray insecticide in the air
an addition to the compost bin
don't mistake my words
for self deprecation
i simply wish that i
was unaware of termination
a reflection on the awareness of mortality.
Darina Forgacova Dec 2024
Christmas tree in the corner
Lights on the shelf with pictures of us
Me sitting again lonely

Hearing dogs barking on strangers
I didn't see Sun for ages
Winter is just dark period

Book lying on the table
Do not have taste to read it
Again the same pages
Of our lives

Maybe I will leave it

Will I walk towards the day?
Days of living in middle of nowhere
Zywa Nov 2024
It may be decent

manners that I seem sad, but --


to me it's boring.
"Grote acht" ("Big Eight" - route of two circles in dressage, 2005, Vrouwkje Tuinman), chapter Seventeen (years old)

Collection "Blankets of snow"
Maria Etre Nov 2024
Leading someone
on
feels
like writing
the beginning
of the
cutest poem
and then
it sudde.......
kel Sep 2024
i lie on my bed;
my body tucked tight in my blanket.
a bit messed up in the head;
always staring up at the ceiling.
and my thoughts drift
to how people are enjoying life;
as i shift
my position inside the bundle of blankets.
i stare at the four boring walls;
every detail memorized,
ignoring my friends' calls
to go out and hang out.
</3
Beans Sep 2024
Red, Orange, Yellow
These colours make me mellow
Green, Blue, Violet
One can say, the colours of silence
Indigo
This one cannot go
Though
I must admit
It is only fit
That in this metropolis
Of colours; not monotonous
They foster a sort of preponderance
Though when squished, form
A sort of colourful incontinence,
A bowel movement like this.
Because these colours, when mixed
Form a brown-ish bliss
A ***** abyss
Though ugly; something amiss
This uniqueness can’t be missed
I find myself lost in this
And I have no idea when to stop it
I’ll swallow my words down my oesophagus
To end this literary incompetence.
to be more exact, i wanted to write about colours but got carried away--
Jia En Sep 2024
Adult talk’s to me a curious thing–
The phone’ll ring
And when you pick up, it’ll just be
A choreographed routine
“How long has it been since you’ve called me?”
You discuss your kids, your wealth,
Your job, your health,
But never anything fun.
Nothing. Not one
Word of laughter or joy
(Unless it’s fake).
I wait for someone to make
A joke but never happens
Without being at the expense of us.
Otherwise they just make a fuss
Of Trump and Kamala,
Or other political debates and talks.
Why, how do you just stay and not walk
Away from the conversation?
It seems an obligation
To sit through the meaningless words.
So far, all I’ve heard
From dialogues between grown-ups
Is just useless fodder.
I don’t know why they bother.
Adults baffle me sometimes
Zywa Jul 2024
Let me be alone,

I do like it and get bored --


when in company.
Novel "Frankissstein: a love story" (2019, Jeanette Winterson), Lake Geneva, 1816

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in 10s"
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