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A Lofi Cherry Apr 2018
13/04/18

Today I said words that didn’t mean what I wanted him to hear
I have a lot of short things like this. Should I just post them all?
L Apr 2018
I WOULD LIKE TO WRITE OF ANGELS AND GOD BUT IF ONLY I KNEW THEM.
YOU SEE, IM NOT A VERY ADAMANT BELIEVER, NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN.
WHO IS THIS  BIG MAN IN THE SKY DRESSED IN WHITE SUPPOSED TO BE ANYWAYS? AND WHY DOES HE HAVE COMMAND OF ALL THESE MAGICAL WINGED SERVANTS ANYWAYS??
eve Apr 2018
Another day, another moment passed,
It feels like time has taken away the connection between me and everyone else,
I feel what it’s like to be disconnected from those closest to you and distance from those I never once doubted to be next to me for the worst of times.
I have no one to call when trouble starts,
I lost the closest people to me, due to my pride and self worth,
Giving up those who were deemed trustworthy because I actually thought, contemplated and realized that loving myself is all that’s worth.
Told myself never again,
Reaching out to the voices in my head,
Everything is just scrambled now,
Situations and certain things can grow to ruins in a matter of a couple seconds.
Time has effortlessly proved to me the true colors that reside underneath the personalities of people, associates,
Even family members, those never underestimated can still indicate actions of opposition,
I was shown that at a young age and even now; a connection, yet a reflection.
Steven Gosling Mar 2018
I lay back one summer’s afternoon,
and gazed up at the sky,
in a sunny meadow all flower strewn,
and watched the clouds go by.

I pondered life and other things,
a chance to contemplate,
growing old and all it brings,
and one’s impending fate.

What better way to clear your mind,
and keep your woes at bay,
and ponder on the things you find,
and while away the day.
Star BG Feb 2018
I sit with overflow of thoughts
that are now calmed by a snowy
landscape.
Beauty inside peacefulness.

I watch recollecting self
in the tranquility of Mother Earths
gentle scene
as wind caresses.

I sit grateful for the
water crystals
that grace trees and hilltops
as not a soul is in sight.

I watch warmed by fire and four walls,
watching the ****** snow
as it blankets all I see.

Perhaps before sunset
I shall wander outward
to touch the magnificent gift
from Father Sky.
inspired by Mike D. A gift to this site. Thank you.
G Rog Rogers Sep 2017
--------------------------------

A near and present
future awaits

Contemplate

A near and present future.

-R.
©ASGP
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2017
I'll do something stupid, like fall in love with you and stuff

Until one day you realize that it wont be enough

I wont be enough for you.

And I will cry and tear apart my room.

And the dark days will begin to loom.

And I will begin to lose myself in this mentality to.
Overthinking shower thoughts about myself and how I must be at fault with everything that has happened.
Dead Account Jul 2017
As the metaphor goes,
people are like books.

Each hold a story with
pages beyond pages of
selective words and
twisting ink.

Within those stories are
tales ten times as much.
Tales that have changed the ending
for the better or worse.

Though it may be selfish and intruding,
I wish to read them all.

The exuberance,
the fall,
the bittersweet,
human lives are much more
interesting and dramatic than
meets the eye.

I deduce from faces of old and young
who both face must face same fate.

I read generations of dreams
in the tiny pupil of an eye.

Millions and trillions
of stories,
yet so little untold.
So little of the ones that would
impact the world with such great force.

Would it be so idealistic
to wish to tell them all?

If given the chance, may I perhaps,
peek into your significant story?

May I perhaps
share it with the world?

It's up to the writer to decide
to have their stories
let out to society's eye
or
buried in the silent voices,
forever lost and untold.

Here I will wait,
writing and scrawling
tales like yours.
This was made on the spot without any plan, so pardon me if there are any mistakes, awkward flow, or difference of usual style. This poem was less of a poem and more of a poetic announcement. I am currently still tweeking on my main work, which is a story-based poem. It's dragging along much more than I presumed, so please wait for me as I finish that! I hope you enjoyed this fill-in.
Dead Account May 2017
They say that when you grow up,
The world will be in your hands.
Yet, small phalanges cannot affect such diversity,
Correct?


The thought is comforting,
However, disagreement tugs me.
This simple body part
Functions in ways that could
Destroy or ****.

Fingers dance upon
Passionate melodies
Or provide
Soothing caresses
Assuring you that you are in peace.


But some are stained crimson
With marks of sin.

Callused, rough, and
Ignorant about a
Tender touch.


Nimble and agile, they create
Illusions the human eye
Cannot follow,
Letting them have freedom to
Manipulate and control
Weak minds.

Yet they also spring delight in
Children's eyes.
Their imagination beholds
Tales of magic and fairytales with each
Flick of the wrist.

When you're in a void,
Consumed by your thoughts, just
Weeping,
Regretting,
Loathing,
Aching,
Doesn't a spark light a
Fire of desperate hope
For a savior to pull you out?

Unpredictable movements of doing the
Wrong things for the right reasons,
Or vice-versa,
Who can you really trust?

Unpredictable movements of doing the
Wrong things for the right reasons,
Or vice-versa,
Who can you really trust?

Human hands hold frail things with
Care or recklessness.

Human hands  share
Fear or love.

Human hands display
Favor or hatred.

Take my two cents and tread carefully.
The globe is but fragile glass

*Entrusted in your hands.
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