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Daan Feb 2019
A mild case of impostor syndrome,
a severe symptom in the form of
confabulations without instigations,

are the base of our disease.
Who we are, is glued to our
actions, due to devour
what our soup tasted like before it all went sour.

This is nonsense, this is weak,
this is no writing of which people speak.
Is it even right in use to say the things, written.
Stop longing for the time of long before,

when we were all still rid
of conscious thought and feeling,

back when we were reeling in and out, casually,
of our devout inadequacy.
When do we deserve a title and when are we what we’re called?
I page my photo album to keep my memories alive
I listen to my favorite songs
Yet I couldn't survive my memories
I go places in which I had memories
Again I couldn't survive them all
I meet my friends whom I loved them much
Then I couldn't keep them alive
All I want is my feelings that have stored & shared
All I miss is my identity
This poem is for people whom they feel confused at times and trying to hunt their best version
Dustin Dean Jan 2019
There was no struggle
Just rounds of true death
Inside a jungle
With mutual breath

Killers in armor
Had come to take us
To **** Mi Amor

And thus and thus

Our families were told
With the rest of the world
Another killer had siphoned
Ill and infamy
From an ideal
Lasting an entire day
That we will never
Get to see
Bernice Helena Dec 2018
A cry for help:

I'm sinking, I'm sinking
Into an ephemeral blink -
Stains and strains of time,

Oh colourless ink.

Dry relief rains:

This pain
                     will wane,
Why worry
                       in vain?
Death lurks
                      in all works.

Don't let it drive you insane.
A sudden gust, end-time rush
Took his breath away.
CL Fjell Dec 2018
Deep
From every blink
Your beauty doth seep
Staring, I start to feel myself sink

Like pools of endless galaxies
I see my future in your eyes
Like a dense forest of pine trees
I float through your milky white skies
  
Seductive and terrifying
Am I caught in my dreams
I see myself with you, flying
But you don't notice me, not yet it seems.
I'm lovesick
simo Nov 2018
the water's changing
finding places to sink into
breathing deep
breathe's my type of food

we're getting older and
as i'm drifting further
i'm feeling farther from
myself

it's tight, again
i'm crammed, crying again
it's taken a while to lift my head
to see the light of hope again

i'm missing something but
it's beckoning
it's a pre-quarter-life crisis
it's pretty close to failure

my mind's buzzing
rarely sleeping
it's taken me seven months to realize
i miss therapy

it's no fun again
it's drivin off a cliff
it's tiring and it's dark out at 4pm
i'm trying to look somewhere else

maybe close my eyes instead

i really been out here
really been missing myself
first poem in months, be nice.
The Moon has abandoned us
We are but blades of grass in a shielded blow
We are merely stones in a river's roll
One day we will be no longer.

We are desperate to cling to
some semblance of reason
but what good does the morrow bring worth breathing today for??
What good is so good that I should stay awake?
We are trying so hard to pretend that sharing our crazy is the least crazy thing
We cling so hard to this notion that we forget to look in the mirror while exchanging pictures of each other instead of reflecting on who we are,
But then, what's the point of reflecting on who we are when all we're capable of is our own life? Literally, the most powerful thing we can do is end ourselves. We aren't so special. We're just bodies with artificial flavors. No semblance of natural beauty; it's all been placed there by our self-serving pursuit of purpose. It's so much easier to believe we suffer for a reason. We don't.

A sad, frail calamity
A ship on endless ocean
Misery loves company, and that's why we've outlawed suicide, because really
You can't tell me you really believe we will be punished for ending our own durations, given to us without permissions,
You can choose your destiny as long as you stay alive. Death is not an option, until it is, and then what?

You're so glad that I'm expressing myself, but you wish i'd say some different things
So glad to see me creative again, but so against the things i say again and again and again and again and I just want somebody to make it all better like when you're 5 and don't know what existence ******* is but you get a cut on your finger and now you exist, but then your momma comes and sticks a band-aid on your finger and the pain of existence is gone. i want that feeling again.

But my mom's antibacterial powers have subsided as the ills have built resistances; they're now resisting penicillin and we don't own anything else right now. I open up my medicine cabinet, anyway. There's Tylenol. At least it'll help to ease the pain.

I take one. I take another. It isn't working. I take some more. Do these have a limit? I think they do. But I can't read at this point. I take another. I take another. I'd be counting but i can't do that, either. I keep taking the pills. I never stop. For all of eternity I take additional Tylenols, until a sad, frail calamity comes home from work and sees a sunken fleshy ship at the end of its ****** and final voyage.
Dante Algheri Nov 2018
When the sun is low
and the breeze has gone
We will meet again
to sing our last refrain

Oh the never ending cold
you must have grown so old
But now the breeze has gone
and, too, the sun is low

Wrap around my sheets of wind
Set alight the self within
Strike out on my endless skin
I'll still be here when you rescind

Have you now sailed your fill
And tasted salt again?
Now the breeze has failed against my will
So I sing the last refrain

Shelter from my sheets of wind
Stow away the self within
Whisper now to spite the storm
Poison me forever more

Play a game you cannot win
I'll be here when you begin
Make a life that's warm and dry
Never stop to wonder why
Zara Nov 2018
If I cannot even take care of myself
how can I take care of others

If I cannot even love myself
how can I love others

If I cannot really live
this life I’ve been given
how can I
justify
continuing
to exist
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