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Paras Bajaj Jan 14
Someone pulled me closer,
when you pushed me away.
When you told me to get lost,
someone asked me to stay.

Tell me what I did wrong?
Tell me what I did right?
One threw me into the dark,
and the other, into the light.

While you counted my flaws,
someone loved me anyway.
While you ruined my nights,
someone saved my day.

Tell me what I did good?
Tell me what I did bad?
One made me the happiest
and the other, only sad.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
H E L E N A 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.
Sindi Kay Oct 2018
And to think of those with one choice, already chosen for them
When I have freedom

My freedom is prison
The clock moves forward
it keeps taking me back
to that loneliest hour
I can’t stop breathing, even if I tried

Something in the air just weighs me down
A flower watered to death.
Seasons come and go,
Each year it's the same.
If only people changed like the seasons.
Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring;
Each one holds a secret,
It's own special magic.

Winter holds a promise that there is
Life after Death.
Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of
Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing.
Autumn holds the key to
And Summer is the Epicenter of
The Magic.
Summer is the result; the After-life;
It is Rebirth.

Seasons change, and people do too,
But it's a pity - a shame - that people
Don't change the same way.
People are too unpredictable; we change
Our minds too many times, we change
Our Destinies every day.

Seasons don't.

Seasons accept their constant cycle;
Their Natural Pattern.
People will never be like the Seasons.
I guess that's what makes us all

In this way
We are Designed -
Crafted, Molded.

Seasons harbour a Secret;
It's own special Magic.
We too, are our own special Magic.

Winter promises Life after Death,
People are promised Happiness after Depression.
Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing,
People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain
And Suffering.

Autumn holds the key to Eternity,
People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land.
Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life,
And people are the Epicenters of their own lives.

We are our own Masters of Catastrophe.
People are Reborn in Faith.

Looking at it now, maybe we are much like
The Seasons.

We are predictable in our unpredictability.
This is our prized Possession.
This is our kind of Magic.

People have seasons, people are seasons.
Winter is our Darker side,
Spring is our Healing,
Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side,
Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing,
Our Learning.

Just like the Seasons, we change;
We mold our Futures and become who we are meant
To be;
We become part of a Cycle.
"Oldie but a goodie." The title was given to me as a topic for unprepared poetry writing 2 years ago, and I finished it within 5 minutes of our given time of 1 hour, and a few weeks after submission, found out that I was overall item winner.
That pushed me even harder to pursue Poetry.
Corona Harris Oct 2015
Leave me by an impasive shore so that I may be tooken by the waves
Let my body drift on sorrowful waters as the sun meets my gaze
Burn my iris to where I no longer see no evil nor no good light
Cramp my bones so that they no longer have the urge to fight
Barge your sorrows into the tender house of my lungs
Replete me with depression and smite me with your tongues
Opening scars that bleed out in vain
Stress blocking my mind to thoughts inhumane
and beliefs I might actually give in to spreading myself thin        
But I don't and I float to the shore once again

— The End —