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When I first crushed into this boy,
it was like walking in the breeze
a beam of sunshine on my desk
a hope of seeing something more
When I first crushed into this man,
There was no pain, but much of fear
I saw him wild and saw him tamed,
And thought I knew what was his core.
I didn't.

Much to his surprise,
I stood relentless by his side.
He pushed away, I didn't halt,
And now I'm broke,
And it's my fault.
When I first crushed into this man,
I had a thousand miles to go.
I'm walking still without a plan.
Above me cries ****** of crows.
It's killing me and I don't care,
I've promised not to turn away.
My soul's beginning to decay.
I'm scared as hell and it's not fair.
Right now, I write and realise.
It's not like walking in the breeze -
A storm that upside-downs my desk.
A pain, and fear that makes me freeze.
Right now, I write and realise -
Despite all this, I still don't care.
It's downright mad and it's unwise,
But to see you, I'll pay this fare.
KG Nov 2020
Imagine with me if you will
Not being able to imagine at all.
Trying but unable to tell
Why it is you feel so small.
It's hard to feel anything anymore
Voices shouting censorship and paranoia tumble over the walls of their abode and still like a broken record, refuse to admit their own shortcomings.
To never think of death, of guilt, of pain
They run ashamed and break the bridges that have crossed the empty pit, their concrete blown away, and why?
The roads of healthy living are martyred
The smiles of love are blotted out for the dark recesses privy to the wretches in their holes hiding from insight.
Imagine with me if you will, but Don't pretend it's not actually happening.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
And playing the moon game
With the last vestiges of sin
All a memory forgotten
Have no fear
Drink it in
You children of
The Valley of
Ten Thousand Smokes

The life in you
Has passed on
Aparna Sep 2020
longing for summer;
just a note
     hoping for the better
U w U
haya Jul 2020
i was left alone
in the epidemic
All humans inside
I'm outside, seeing these horrible things

And i remember that i can't remember.

that I've probably forgotten
Where are my parents?
Where is my home?

No humans on sight, i think they're all dead
oh no, they're all inside it turns out,
I'm the one who's considered dead

Perhaps i am dead
because feeling alive is so distant and far away

And i can't remember.
Written somewhere in April, at the beginning of all the self-quarantining.
3md Jul 2020
A weeping soul asleep in bed— a teenage boy in dreary lament,
Seeks solace in riches dreamt. To live overseas in superfluous luxury,
Is all the boy knows he must have as a have-not. His heart, bought by
Awry thoughts and prospects, yearns for golden years and silver days.

Yet he knows not the life of the rich man; a life of misery and pain,
The king, who sits on his throne, a lonely soul known by all men—
An irony of knowing all men but lonely nonetheless. A glut of gold
buys but bliss and love, for we miss and love what we have not.

Hence all men are hypocrites; wishing riches in their days of youth
And wishing youth in their golden years. The young ask the old why
They are not happy, and vise versa. Neither understand their reasons,
And men will always long for selves whom they are not. Satisfaction—
Or rather disillusionment; always there, yet never met.
Written last August 19, 2019. This tackles the irony humans face: as children, they long for adulthood, and as grownups, they long for youth!
Marla May 2020
Every year we fool ourselves through sayings such as
“We can't leave the house for the weather”
“The sun will rejuvenate us”.

When seasons transform it turns into
“We can't leave the house for the demons in our front garden”
“It burns, it burns, please make it stop burning”
Sierra Blasko Feb 2020
Every underwhelmment
Undid my hopes a little more
Piece by warping puzzle piece
Hacking away at innocence and
Orphaned delusionment.

Recalling this now,
Is it really any wonder that I
Can't tell euphoria from satisfaction?
An acrostic
Toss me a coffee and a word and I'll write you a poem <3
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
I'd love to love
I'd hate to hate
I lived enough
My path is paved

I used to use
The good to know
My soul refused
To let it show

I filled the gaps
With violent pours
And now it leaks
Out of my pores

Catastrophe reject
The hollow amass
Let him hit the reflex
Let him stand aghast
Freestyle written in 11 minutes.
cleann98 Aug 2019
take care to never
confuse magic and
illusions in your mind...

you only call it
a lowly 'illusion'
when someone else
is fooling you

but it's always
ever been 'magic'
when you're the one
robbing yourself blind.
'tis weird right? like we can grow into the disillusionment from smokes and mirrors but still call it magic as if a mystical lexical escapism from the bittersweet fact that it's also called trickery.

nonetheless, thanks for reading^
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