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Sabika H Oct 1
I’ve grown numb
And accustomed to
Whatever that was deemed
Extraordinary.
Does this make me dull
If the complexity of the universe
Has become
Ordinary?
No longer a stranger or an enigma
To my inner experience?
Does this make me boring
If I no longer find joy
In discovering something
Unsurprising?
For when you
Constantly dwell and live
In the unknown
Is it really a big deal
To find something unexpected?
I mean... what did you expect anyway?

I am more interested in human interactions
In the consequences
And the causes
Of my actions
And I have internalised the outside world
And the outside wonders and
Discipline and harmony
Has become my quest and
My childish discovery.
Osii Sep 18
Growing up, I had a precious father
And a loving mother.
But why become a wife
If you were  gonna choose another?

You had 2 sons and a daughter
So why the hell did you leave us?
Should I have done better?
Now im confused, as if I'm still a fetus.

If you're someone I don't know
Should I still call you mother?
I know nothing about you now.
Is it befitting to call you a stranger?

I remember the old me, feeling sadness,
Unstoppable.

What did I think of what you did? Sad and
Unforgivable.

You made a family

And wrecked it with your vanity.

You made children

But you couldn't be there for them.

Over the years I've had someone to support me
They weren't my relative, but it felt as if they are
I tried searching for you high, low, near, and far
But I still couldn't find you, the thing that haunted me

all my life, I've sought out discovery

Of the sole reason why my own creator

Was not able to love me.

All I found was your name in a tombstone

And the names of your children

Whom you've chosen

To thrown
To the mother who wasn't
Kitten Yvad Sep 18
.
you first saw me
talked to me so softly
told me you'd hold my hand
through the falls with me


through the pain with me
you said
we could look at it together


thats what you've done.
though sometimes i can't see it
look at how far i've come.


we'd talk my way back
from the edge of a cliff
and you stood right there
with me as though it was
your cliff too.

It'll be time one day
and my heart will split up
and grieve and ask the question
"Why can't we be lovers?"


i already know why
i explore it all the time
I throw all my pain at your
chest and your chest is fine
I hope


I love you


your voice is motherly
loving encouraging urgent
seductive reasonable stormy
and sane





I've been in love with you
I've been in love
with so many people
I've used my love for you
to love other people

hopefully better

.
things that are forbidden and also taste like heaven.
Maria Monte Sep 12
What is in a name?
An identifier. Christine. Paul. Bernard.
A sense of uniqueness. Foxy. The Rock. Buddy.
A personality. John. Chad. Karen.
A name is something to hold onto.

What is my name?
A label to keep me concrete when people forget
A phrase to pull me back down when I drift
An identity so that I don't mold into everyone else
My name keeps me together

But what does my name sound like?
I forgot where I placed my strengths
I forgot the way it was shaped to my body
My person slips away from the letters as they form into your mouth
and get lost in the bottomless sea of identifiers

Who am I?
Billboards and signs that paint "fragile" across a face like mine
Small, petite, figures that whisper "prey" and warn me of the big bad wolves
Unfamiliar faces that tell me that I am "too much" as my bones grind against them and their hands try to cup me smaller
there is nothing to keep me from vanishing

Who am I?
Worker # 187, making a dime as they make a dollar?
A father's daughter, a person to be handed and never to stand on it's own?
Am I my weakest moments?
Am I my triumphs?

Who am I?
My own mocking voice screaming, giggling, obscenities before I catch myself
My own motherly tone re-directing me from the bad roots in my childhood
I am this thing and then I am another
We are so inconsistent, as people

We forget to keep our names close to our hearts
To choose our own identities,
let ourselves remind each other that we are
who we choose to be.

My name, it echoes against the cages of my body
and it wraps around me
reassuring me, reminding me, piecing me back together
breathing life back into me.
Brian Yule Sep 4
Amid the rubble
Of four dim millennia peeled back
A square of carved steatite lay
Lifted
Gently as a gossamer hope
To reveal
That mythic beast
A single horn curving
From its striated head
Whose fame reached Grecian ears
From Indus bed
Across miles & years
Leaving an inkmark murmur
Inspired by the unicorn seal found in the ruins of ancient Mohenjo Daro during early 20th century excavations:

https://www.harappa.com/indus/25.html
olujimi Sep 4
You
Who are you?
a Samaritan?
a saint?
an evil person?

Who are you?
that's right
you might think you are useless
trust me been there

But you are the person you say you are.
so pick up that mirror
and tell the world who is boss.
Because you are  
glorious
Magnificent
Lovable
Follow me
Alicia Moore Sep 1
wholly, am I thee?
truly, who am I desired to be?
sincerely, I plea for a decree.
please tell me
before I flee...
Hold on
Don't tell me
Who you are?
Tell me
Who you aren't?

It's easy
That way
To know
Who you can be.
Genre: Observational
Theme: Truth Of Life
In a glass room
at the top of a mountain
I learned how to speak.
At 10,000 feet
I learned the shape of words
and how they can sound
so much like wind
persisting, wailing against
the impossible odds
of sturdy, dismissive construction.
If this is not a home,
then what is it?
A shrine atop this mountain?
An offering to the gods of
sunrise, sunset, thunderstorm,
and man-made radio equipment?
Man-made fire?
There are certainly plenty
who climb to worship at its feet.
Surely nothing, save from
the mountain itself,
could send this glass room
tumbling down the path
I just walked to reach it.
Emily Sliver Aug 4
I whisper your name
Alone in my room
To feel something, sense something
Where my mind won’t let me

I grip hard at my covers
And dig my nails into my skin
To force my eyes open
See who squats under my flesh

The wind makes it hard to see
I rub violently
To make the mirror less foggy
My eyes are raw

But somewhere I can hear drums
When I stick my tongue out
To taste the rain
It’s briny
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