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I could be talkative if I wanted to
but I worry that I might say the wrong thing
or say too much
or be annoying
I don't want to be annoying or too much
I don't want to burden people with
spewing words out
I don't want them to feel obligated to listen
so instead I shut my mouth
and become the quiet kid
therefore I won't be bothersome
Ione Apr 6
feeling seen and appreciated comes with a burden of being loved.
Skye Apr 1
I don't know.
I don't know what to write what to say how to say it how to be.
I have ideas.
I have people I could talk to about it.
I have it but I can't use it.
I could but that means opening up...
Opening up about something deep inside of me...
Opening up about my biggest burden...
Opening up about something hurtful...
Opening up about something I kept hidden...
Opening up about something buried deep...
Opening up about something I pushed down...
Opening up about something I ignored for years...
So I can't do it.
Had to think of my sister wanted to write it out
Zywa Mar 30
I plod on, with my

shadow on my back, flat and --


yet very heavy.
Novel "Sekai no owari to Hado-boirudo Wandarando" (1985, "Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World", 1991, Haruki Murakami), chapter 38, 'Escape'

Collection "Within the walls"
Nehal Mar 15
Baseless turmoil I have carried
       for you was faithless.
Aged me fine in my youth
       groundless.
No longer I was more sure
      about the lore.
No doubt it was offshore,
     I have to build my own floor.
𝐴 π‘ β„Žπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘’π‘‘ π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘π‘’π‘ π‘œπ‘™π‘Žπ‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›,
π‘šπ‘–π‘‘π‘ π‘‘ π‘Ž π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘™π‘š π‘œπ‘“ π‘π‘œπ‘™π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘“π‘’π‘™ 𝑒π‘₯β„Žπ‘–π‘™π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›.
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Žπ‘› π‘’π‘šπ‘π‘Ÿπ‘Ž π‘œπ‘“ π‘šπ‘’π‘™π‘Žπ‘›π‘β„Žπ‘œπ‘™π‘–π‘Ž,
𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘Žπ‘ π‘π‘Žπ‘‘π‘–π‘›' π‘œπ‘“ π‘›π‘–π‘Ÿπ‘£π‘Žπ‘›π‘Ž.  

𝐴 π‘™π‘Žπ‘π‘’π‘›π‘Ž π‘œπ‘“ π‘ π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘€,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ β„Žπ‘œπ‘π‘’π‘™π‘’π‘ π‘ π‘›π‘’π‘ π‘  π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘‘π‘œπ‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘€.
π‘‡π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘›π‘’π‘‘ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘π‘’π‘π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›π‘  π‘π‘™π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘Ÿπ‘¦,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘™π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘  π‘‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘›π‘œπ‘β„Žπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘šπ‘Žπ‘π‘¦.  

𝑇𝑖𝑠 π‘Ž π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘¦π‘–π‘›' π‘šπ‘’π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘¦,
𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 π‘€π‘–π‘‘β„Ž π‘šπ‘’π‘™π‘Žπ‘›π‘β„Žπ‘œπ‘™π‘¦.
π»π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘π‘¦, 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑛' π‘šπ‘’ 𝑖𝑛 π‘šπ‘–π‘ π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘šπ‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘–π‘›' π‘Žπ‘”π‘œπ‘›π‘¦.  

𝑇𝑖𝑠 π‘Ž π‘›π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛' π‘ π‘Žπ‘šπ‘ π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘Ž,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ 𝑑𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑛' π‘™π‘–π‘˜π‘’ π‘Ž π‘ π‘œπ‘›π‘Žπ‘‘π‘Ž.
𝑂𝑓 π‘Ž π‘›π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛' π‘ π‘’π‘“π‘“π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘›,
π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘'𝑠 π‘π‘œπ‘’π‘‘' π‘‘π‘œ π‘˜π‘’π‘’π‘ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘€π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘™π‘‘ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘šπ‘π‘™π‘–π‘›',
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘›'  

𝑇𝑖𝑠 π‘Žπ‘š π‘Ž π‘ π‘–π‘›π‘›π‘’π‘Ÿ, π‘Ž π‘™π‘œπ‘€π‘™π‘¦ π‘ π‘œπ‘€,  
π‘Žπ‘€π‘Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘–π‘› π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ž π‘‘β„Žπ‘œπ‘’'.
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑙 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ 𝑒𝑛𝑑 π‘œπ‘“ π‘Žπ‘› π‘’π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘›π‘–π‘‘π‘¦,  
𝑑𝑖𝑠 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 π‘œπ‘› π‘šπ‘’π‘™π‘Žπ‘›π‘β„Žπ‘œπ‘™π‘–π‘Ž π‘œπ‘“ π‘šπ‘–π‘ π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦
A melancholia of misery that one goes through throughout his life,
tis the burden that we carry.. till the end of our epoch and era's.. The weight of being alive.. the burden of being human..
Look at the pond
You & I
Paddling together
Beneath the sky.
Within the ripples ~~
With a watery sigh
Let go of the burden
Let it lie.
Piyush Mar 11
A Burden Of Birth,
A Fight Of Worth,
A Star Of Curse,
A Boy Of Thirst.

A Burden Of War,
An Encouraging Roar,
A Seaside Shore,
A Defeated Score.

A Burden Of Love,
A Sight Of Dove,
Yet Never Enough,
A Heart That Loves

A Burden Of Peace,
A Birth In Greece,
A War To Cease,
A Love In Release.
Gideon Mar 8
My shoulders are burdened
by the weight of all the lives I'm living.
My head hurts because my neck
supports all the people I’ve become.
Laden with hats, my hair hides
underneath the tokens of every job I do.
Deep within, I still fear that this is not enough.
Will it ever be enough?
A reign of the sky,
Ink-stained feathersβ€”
Scavenger of the lost,
Willing to die.

Blends with the ******,
Identical to all.
Unfurls, beats harderβ€”
The crow begins to fall.

A shadow chasing light,
His nest embraced anotherβ€”
Not beneath the ink-ish night,
But one that rose from dead anther.

Yet the curse of a crow,
Bearer of omens, fell again.
This time, he couldn't throwβ€”
The wound cut deeper,
The pain remained.

His lullaby, abuseβ€”
His voice, a crash.
Cries rang through the void,
Silencing the bones, thrashed.
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