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Savor these hard times,
Cherish every drop,
For one day they'll be
far past and behind.

Joy is warm and sweet,
Anger burns the tongue,
Sadness makes its case,
Dressed in smoky char.

Let the others eat
portions meant for kings;
I am far too well
With the bits I find.
Life is a buffet. Waste not a scrap.
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, have a great July!


goodness is virtue
rage is essence when realization is new
hearts entrenched
them those called sensations melted a bench

memories tainted in dark
reminiscent somewhere in the background park
violins ached for the winter sky
on a hope it would just snow the ghosted July

their flesh burnt
mercurial whispers churned a hurt
dilapidates already fallen
feels of away returned from the stolen

wise in me I confess
to not believe a belong is a bless
visions confuse
perplexed deprived of a twinkle muse

my pen writes
then paper welcomes once and thrice
orchestra chimes
in time to spill the wine

                                                                                           ------ravenfeels
Spriha Kant Dec 2020
Circumstances crushed hopes and new hopes rose from the ashes of burnt desires.
John McCafferty Jun 2020
An irreverent force
armed in localised wars
Flames of rage displayed in waves
Some strings attached
to bring about more force
Shattered glass and burnt bricks
won't fix what a voice is worth
But irrelevance when oppressed
blinded with contempt seeks to vent
So many mistakes are blamed to
create what is made of the states
Powers that be have a responsibility
to assist those in need without them bending the knee
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Poetic T May 2020
Were the pancakes,
       and corona

is the syrup

lets spread it like
we eating out..

And were lungs are burnt...

I'll never eat out...


But ill wash my hands
           every time your
  cough pops up...
lua Apr 2020
Chest falls as smoke rises
Up into the air
The memory of a past
Long forgotten
Buried under a mountain of ash
Scrap metals, old wood
And photographs burnt at the corners.
all but a faint, distant memory.
Enigmatic Apr 2020
Her trust in you is as good as an empty tank headed south
She won't use the rearview mirror headed far from you
What she leaves behind remains no concern to her burnt out heart
Eyes on the first exit out of here
The highway is her only vision, burying your bones
This is her farewell
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