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Aneesh H Jan 2020
Let me be a bird
And fly in the sky
Free from all fetters

Let me be a fish
And swim across the seas
Free of all bounds

Let me be the wind
And flow everywhere
Free of all barriers


Let me be the sun
Let me be the moon
And caress the nightly Earth
With my cool milky warmth

Let me, let me just be
Myself...!
Freedom or Liberty is a value that every living being longs for. For me, freedom is the escape of my mind from the inevitable mundane. An elevation of my spirit to something transcendental, and not ephemeral. Not necessarily a permanent refuge but even a momentary catharsis in the continuity of chaos.
fray narte Jan 2020
too bright —
too light —
the hospital walls
offer no place to cry.
too flawless —
too white,
and i am the spot in the middle,
the blemish,
the stains,
the discoloration
to a scrutinizing gaze.

i can feel them shying away
from these black candles i lit —
burning away like a sacrifice —
the melting filth of wax
that dared defile
something so holy as a savior's robes,

i can feel them flinch
upon the touch of these hands
and yet i am a woman unhealed,

upon the sight of these tears —
a baptism,
a renaming ceremony

in honor of the graveyards
i dug in secret,
in honor of the coffins
lowered in my chest,
in honor of the soil filling in the depths
all too careful,
all too slow
until i am reborn as Mourning
and until mourning fades into specks of dust.

and the hospital walls still look spotless.
and the hospital walls still look too pure.
Inspired by Sylvia Plath's Tulips and my own share of grief
It’s a sunny day on the lake
No weather lifts my mood
I’ve become socially anxious
But they just think I’m rude

It’s like life’s the arcade
And I’m completely out of tokens
Won’t blame it on the system
Cause I know it’s me that’s broken

Can’t drift away
Not even in a binge
Anchored to my pathology
Society’s definition of the fringe

Done drowning in the sorrow
I just shower in it to get clean
And wash away the hope
A habit from when I was a teen

Quit pushing off the bottom
You can’t fail if you don’t start
But still I die again and again
Trying desperately to break apart

Cause this nihilism gives me a meaning
Paradoxical in and of itself
To cut deeper in the wound
Cathartic hatred for myself

Done saying I’ll make one more attempt
To walk the path of righteousness
Cause I’ve only tried that four thousand times
And each time I’m left with less and less

All I’ve got is this page
And my obsession with the pain
I’m an infinite beaker!
From which the flow just won’t wane

You’d think my spirit’s dead
Cause I’ve been trying to **** it for a while
But the spirit’s hard to ****
Even after a couple million miles
Epochs in life have a cyclical nature.
Sorrow is a typhoon — but even the most severe of tempests fade.
There is always another renaissance.
You’ll see the light of dawn.
Of that I can assure you.
Ylzm Nov 2019
Dreams, the soul's cathartic sojourns
Bizzare dramas of things avoided,
unacknowledged in consciousness

Of loves lost, fears dreaded, anxieties unresolved,
disappointments ran away from,
victories missed, and failures’ devastations

Of desires suppressed
yet constantly desirous
even separated by death or law or man

Of journeys never travelled
across the impossible chasm
into lands unimaginable

Of evil undisguised,
sheer horrors of men’s wickedness,
that even Satan cringed  

Compelled to experience
the emotions, the terrors, the sweetness
the fulfillment of a life never lived

To confront death in its face and to die
And to go beyond the other side and yet live
And to wake up disturbed, changed, and refreshed
Eloisa Sep 2019
I  have drown in love and caged repeatedly.
But I’ve broken the chains of captivity.
Recovering from a tidal wave of emotions,freeing my inner fire and energies,
I now return with strength with a pen
and a scrap of paper with me.
I have run into chaos, fear, self-doubt
and uncertainty.
For I anchored my motivation and confidence
in my flaws, my scars and pain.
With glimpses of memories that just farewelled,
I’ve got my new story to write.
I’m allowing my fear and self-love to co-exist.
And with an aching soul and a bruised heart
still to heal.
I now let my horizons of certitude confidently sail into undiscovered creative seas.
OpenWorldView Jul 2019
skin is the paper
the knife replaces the pen
remove lives mistakes
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