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Christina P Mar 2019
As I am lying here in my bed
I can't help but feel like a fraud
Because in order to deal with my scars
I create characters
Who speak the words
I will never be able to say myself
Justyn Huang Feb 2019
The Lover is a conqueror
whose name is once everyone's
as they search the faces
of strangers for pieces of
themself, in mountains,
in valleys, ‘til the edges of earth
crumbles at someone like You,
the Lover is never another
late comer to your bed
but instead
will lay down their life
To rest as time tries to search
for surrender and finality by
looking inside some meaning and
some conflict and some tender harsh
romping for the Lover never gives
Up too easily to know,

Love is a death
Love is a slumber
Love is to be taken
Love is to be lost

Love is what the conqueror
Could not fend off.
Asiah Mangham Feb 2019
If it were this easy to break you
If the slightest challenge in your character makes you quiver
Then who said you were strong anyways.
You're not invincible
& maybe that's what they see...
What determines my character?

Like loss, it's more than letting go or peace in a gradual process. Our own mind has freedom, call it intelligence or imagination. We all know the truth & falsehood. But our self-realization is a combination of things, lead through experience. Slowly, we learn, call it truth, but it's a painful process of discovery or learning of our personal painful-regret. In not only what we did with our time. but to the time spent thinking about what we did, to those whom we loved too knowing we were only there for them. It's uncanny at times how we're thrown out of our normal life, coming to grips of what we wasted on. Regretting what we cared about, bounded upon on petty concerns or the things we thought we loved & it's not true.

In death or painful transitions, we'll look back & question what we were doing? When in normality or that comfort of an environment we have grown to know, our emotions tend to tell us, death isn't coming. Ideals are made to let us know who we can be, the pain of not putting effort into it will be far Superior to the daily pain of not doing so.

I’m not writing this in support of some doctrine, dogma, religion or philosophy.

The best ever compliment that I’ve ever received, is that I’m good enough

And the worst thing I could ever say to myself, don't ever change.

There’s politics, religion, culture. Things that people, families, communities, states, whoever had gone to war over. But no one ever protests ideas. With what we call truth & lies, there’s nothing to determine that besides our very emotional attachment. At the moment, I render that at the end of learning is absolutes, knowing the minds of gods, the daily lives of cultured masters and secrets of the common people, dead or alive.

Its ideas with a heartbeat and we attach ourselves to attainable actions when it’s exhausted, it’s either mundane or normal, comfortable or even useless, cause we don’t feel it.

This isn’t to make anyone feel bad or even to prove anyone wrong.

But there’s a price to pay when thinking for oneself. Hearing about the world being a totality of things, if one isn’t puzzled about it, life, society, civilization, culture or politics, it’s a possibility one is replica mind of another or it’s under total control. Is it better to work out consciously and critically one's own conception of the world and thus, in connection with the labours of one's own brain, choose one's sphere of activity, take an active part in the creation of the history of the world, be one's own guide, refusing to accept passively and supinely from outside the moulding of one' own personality? People hesitate. People tend not to think when the flow of life is normal. No one ever thinks about their external environment, whether it be peers, family, lovers or their spouse, not even the actions their dictate. What determines quality? It’s hard to come to grips when one’s internal life isn’t reflected in the external outside times of pain and suffering or feeling flat, when we’re starkly reminded of we’re doing the right thing or not?

It’s hard to let go of things that we care about, a community, a lover, a friend or even a daily routine such as coffee in the morning. All things come to an end and I think death is the harshness of reality. I say this stuff in order to think about one's character rather appeasing the external. Our very mind controls so much of it, often, if it feels good, we generally don’t think about it until those painful moments. None of what I’m saying is new, we can admire people on what they do, but despite who they are, example, we can admire someone creating an altruistic company but doing on an external command, like for wages or being a model employee. Fleeing ideas, forgetting what we’re doing. Often we do things in hopes of appeasing the outside or what we do will amount to contentment in the future. I’m not supporting the self-doing something for the selfishness of self-interest, but to develop a character of balance where it’s fulfilling, having the essentials as the bonus is a contribution to reality.

In a way, I am supporting one to develop a personalized individual philosophy. Feeling and knowing can be two completely different things. The now is a letting go of not only the personal past that's lived but of the future one will never experience.

By doing so, you’ll learn a lot, of not only what one is doing with their time, but to our peers, family and lovers. It’s shocking to how much the external is here for only that. And it’s worse to know when one has to gradual learn how to self develop into self-validation.
https://www.facebook.com/knowledgevariable/
Rajinder Feb 2019
How can one enter a story?
Like gaps in words,
emptiness between breaks.
How can one crawl out of a plot
stealing a character?
People tend to forget her
As if she was a chameleon
Blending into conversations
Wearing a shape shifter's skin
She tend to mirror other people
Just to learn how to fit in
But like a mirror, unknowingly
She reflected what was within
A mind teaser, a people reader
She was who she was with
A mixture of absorbed characters
Like a cauldron of characteristics
Desire Jan 2019
Have the faith to pray.
Have the desire to dream.
Have the will to fight.
Have the grit to achieve.
Have the passion to want.
Have the goals within reach.
Have the discipline to push.
Have the voice that speaks.
Have the positive attitude.
Have the courage to smile.
Have the guts to take a stand.
Have the love that stretches for miles.
Have the character of one wholesome.
Have the patience of a rock.
Have the morals of one holy.
Have the spirit of a warrior.
XLVIII. TANGIBLE TRAITS
Gods1son Jan 2019
He has a bad attitude
But he wears the blame on other people
He never tried the blame on for once
Maybe it never crossed his mind
Or he thinks he's too right to ever do wrong

I liken him to a blind man
Looking at several mirrors
But could never see himself
And calls all the mirrors blind

Maybe the bad attitude is not the problem
But that he is blind to see himself
Or arrogant to accept his wrongs
And that he's not a flower but thorns!
Seraphina Jan 2019
If I'm the main character
Then what are you?
Some useless sidekick
That will never get the praise they need?
Why do you help others but never accept a "thank you"?
You deserve more than this
And I can't always be the one in the spotlight
When you're in the audience, clapping
Because no one will ever know who you really are
But to me, you're always that number one
Some people are like this, including one of my greatest friends.
I say, "Why can't you understand that I owe you?"
He says back to me, "Why can't you understand that I never change?"
K Dec 2018
I began to bawl while she knew nothing
about the body to catch
"You can't do that, Leo."
For three days, I responded, "yes sir"
I knew I was in trouble

I didn't think he'd appreciate this before
us swinging the bat and slashing a guy for him
for us, he was restrained in the cellar with the bodies

He kept staring at me,
chrissake he had to know

As far as I could remember, he hit me
Go on hit me harder, I dare you!
I thought this as if to say
a beating meant that I could do nothing
wrong

but oh how he was  wrong
This was created out of sentences and words from a book, I picked out some pieces and worked them into a poem and revised it to flow collectively
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