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Artis Apr 26
ME.

   I am who you want me to be,
I am perfect in your eyes
But to myself,
I am nothing.
Nothing enough to be called—
Perfect,
  In your eyes
       Nothing without the version that you see.

      To you I only exist in a fairytale.
You only see pierces that fit the puzzle you made for me.
Joss Lennox Apr 25
clarity comes in waves, you weren't searching for,
like pieces of shipwreck, floating to the surface,
flooding the face, with forgotten memories
recounting treasures, once lost at sea.
Poem-A-Day Challenge for April 25th "write a memory poem".
Near  A River That Runs Deep

There's A Place With No Streets

Where I Love To BE On my Own

And Greet The Silence Of Being HOME...

In the Silence & Debra Lea Ryan
1st Verse
G6-EM/A -EM
26.04.2025
In Song @ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fh1Yv1IK0D8 < Feeling a little Meditative.
lonelywriter Apr 25
It’s a longing that runs deep
It’s a fire that lights it
It’s a blaze that you seek
It’s a desire that falls neat
It’s a blush that you heat
It’s a lust that you whip
It’s a whisper that feels cheap
It’s a lump that you dip
It’s a tear that you lick
It’s a feeling that leaves quick

It’s a Lover who felt sick
silvervi Apr 19
People die
Stories end
Fears vanish in the thin air
Minds shut down
Bodies fall
Chapters close
What lives on?
Thinking about death, becoming aware. Philosophical questions.
Sharp bends around the curb
Past bus stops used to run for
Feels so near and so far
The shops have changed
At least some of them
Still serving the same things
Where lucky moments
Made everything alright
Roads which led to homes
Which felt like someplace
Could always go
Haven’t been in so long
Must have wanted that
Wish I could go back
If only for a moment
Just to feel like I did
Laughing to sleep
Walking the city streets
Underneath the skyscrapers
Playing games invented
Finding paths which strayed apart
ap0calyps3 Apr 4
Felt like an eternity waiting for your birthday
now death is all you wait for
the presents wrapped, was all you crave
now the roses remain still on your grave
so excited, hard to fall asleep the night before
now death is sleep you die for.
Written by April, published by April
This is my first ever time writing...
My tongue stays knotted, a noose around my throat,
A strangling coil that I cannot break.
I choke on words I can’t release,
Hanging in the silence of sentences I can’t yet find.

Thoughts race past, swift like speeding cars,
Yet I remain mute, frozen in the stillness…
I can’t speak.

How can my mind hold all these questions
But no answers to ease the chaos?
So many ideas, yet I’m lost on how to bring them to life.
I stay speechless, trapped in this silence.

I reach for better days,
Clutching at air, hoping for a shift.
But all I seem to gather are bitter ones.
I am too young to feel the cold of this despair.
This noose tightens,
As I dissolve further, suppressing all that troubles me.
I need the words to voice my pain,
A voice that has long since eluded me.
I must find it, before it’s too late.
To be as The Moth, born to the dark.
A fleeting fragment, a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be its own shadow. To not have a name.

Guided by stars too distant to hold.
To exist as a soul, that exists all alone.
To run into hiding by dawn’s first light.
To be haunted by, and to haunt all in sight.

Each light forms a lust that burns like a vow.
A promise of warmth that its fate won’t allow.
With wings, so fragile, that are pinned to this fate,
Its destiny cursed like sins born into saints.

Not resting at night, nor waking in peace.
For the pulse of the glow, we know, doesn’t cease.
To be called to the light as it paints life black.
To be deemed punishable before any ill act.

Yet The Moth questions nothing, asks nothing in return.
Never questions its darkness, or why the light burns.
A creature that lives in desperation of the night.
A creature that dies by desperation for the light.

Its symbolism, carved in my endless pursuit.
My shape stitched into the seams of The Moth's truth.
A life chasing embers no matter fate’s cost.
To be as The Moth, to find only what's lost.

Just like The Moth, I was born to the dark.
A fragmented soul with a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be my own shadow. To forget my own name.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
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