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It’s all Choreography, you see,
How I know just what to say,
How I smile at your life,
My enthusiasm about your new boo.
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry your perfect little head,
About my loss,
About my body,
About my hair.

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ll probably tell you about the one good day,
Some award I won for being nice,
And spew some pseudo-intelligent *******
But I know
Oh, I know
I know all too well you’ll see through me

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ve been training since I was five,
It’s meticulously planned
And executed flawlessly as
Warm hugs, laughs, kind eyes and sweet, sweet words.

It’s all Choreography, I know
I’d rather do this,
Because,
I dance alone anyway!
As Roosevelt said,
“Comparison is the thief of joy.”
Six simple words—
struck something deep,
A truth felt,
But never named.

We measure ourselves
against strangers and friends alike,
whispering,
“I want what they have.”
And just like that,
our joy slips through the cracks.

Comparison breeds envy,
envy turns to bitterness.
“Why them? Why not me?”
we ask,
as if fairness follows longing.

But truth is—
they’re likely looking back at you,
thinking
the *******
same
I love all of you girls,
I watched you all fall in love
Met your partners
Cheered at your weddings.

I love all of you girls,
The fancy jobs you have
The places you go to
Smiled at the pictures.

I love all of you girls,
As I sit here
Alone at café
Thinking about the time when
It was easier, simpler and just us

I love all of you girls,
I hold your pain with dignity
Life seems silly when you are around
I guess, I missed out
You all caught the train
When I walked along.
Eve 1d
it took violence
to become this gentle

it took neglect
to become this loving

it took apathy
to become this understanding

it took danger
to become this serene

it took adultification
to become this patient

it took abandonment
to learn how to cherish

and all it takes
are those kind eyes

and i break
a    p    a    r    t
Shambhavi May 1
I'm not her...

My hands are not shiny like her.
Instead painted with ink scratches,

My eyes are not wide and shiny like her,
Instead teary and hidden under specs.

My face is not full of makeup like her,
Instead covered with stress of my career.

My hair is not smooth like her,
Instead harsh just like my financial status.

"Even though I loved you more",
You choosed her...
And told me,"I'm not her."
(I know)....
Yes I'm not her but I'm definitely unique and not made for you
Sudzedrebel Apr 18
And so we're all familiar with those;
Autocracy, atrocity, fascism.
Whatever forms those take
And whatever names given contemporarily.
However masked in any moment.
Yet, here they still happen!
Yet, they still now occur!
It's almost as though
This species really doesn't learn!
Can't handle nuclear power, but they want fusion!
Can't handle themselves, yet want control over others!
It's not a problem that's just national!
For we have even eclipsed just global!
So few truly rational & well-adjusted individuals.
Sudzedrebel Apr 17
Golly, fellas!
Gee, ladies!
These folks.
Am I right, person(s)?

They say it's no fair!

Hey, if you didn't already know it-
I'm hoping you get the best.
Usually, that's by lesson.
And, wouldn't you know it,
You're quite the students!
I just noticed you were struggling learning.
So, I reduced it down to the basics!
You've just got to get to studying.
Of course, not that it's always obvious,
What field even peaks your interest?

Perhaps it's walking.
Perhaps it's gawking.
Perhaps it's trying.

But to what do they compare?

Perhaps it's sensation.
Perhaps it's thinking.

But who's to say
What that even corresponds to?
Who's to say
What those even correspond to?

The only you with say
Is the same to make the decision.
What I mean is;
A lot of things are going to get in your way,
Don't be your own obstacle.
Whatever it is you're trying to do, own it.
He preferred unwashed and touched skins
I was ripe and fresh, with my green leaf
Shiny as if someone polished me against their polo shirt.

He loved texture, bruises, and discoloration
while I was smooth, absolutely bump free.

No patience left in him, he needed to gorge his hunger,
biting down and ripping it's other half trailed with a string of dripping saliva.

It wasn't a want, but a must.

Worms were wriggling out from the rotten core begging to escape from his monstrous pointed teeth.

He preferred them just the way they were, abandoned, unsure, insecure.

He however never preferred me; smothering myself of perfection to be picked from all hands who only ever picked the others...

Perfect apples can't always be picked up.
Today’s full moon is so beautiful.
But I don’t enjoy watching the moon alone.
I want to watch it with you.

Though now, I don’t even want to watch the moon anymore.
I just want to watch you,
because you are even more beautiful.
nicole Feb 6
has anyone ever noticed how similar humans are to rotten fruit? we're all just messed up creatures on the inside with beautiful shells, some more pleasing than the others. take a bite and you might get sick. the rotten parts do spread, that is if you don't take care of them. like a broken heart...
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