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Bhavani Sep 7
is the problem me;
i have many talents;
monetisation.
Not sure why can't I make money with my writing and voice over talents.
sometimes i wonder if i‘m just another someone
stepping into another someone’s footprints
a placeholder for a someone you can‘t let go
even though the years have passed
and the people have too

i compare myself to a someone who is worthy
of poetry,
of words so beautiful and soft,
i can‘t fathom you thinking them about another someone,
me

it is not about that, i want to deny
speaking the lie so softly to myself
because i keep wondering if you think about me
the way you think about her
if i‘m worthy of colorful words and shiny metaphors
or if i‘m just another someone
who‘s stepping into another someone’s footprints
if worlds we spun and lives we lived aren‘t enough
compared to the someone who got away

i keep wondering if you think about me
the way you think about her
if i‘ll forever just be someone who isn‘t her,
who‘s just enough,
just isn‘t her

a placeholder

i wonder if one day
a someone will return to you
and i wonder if that day
my passing will leave footprints too
H AE MZ Sep 3
I drive myself insane, a spiral of doubt and fear,
Second-guessing every move, every word I hear.
Self-sabotage, my constant companion by my side,
Holding me back, shrinking my spirit, an unending ride.

Weary of voices whispering I'm not enough,
Relentless comparisons that leave me feeling rough.
Yearning to be someone else, escape this hollow shell,
Ensnared in a cycle, a never-ending spell.

I long to break free, to matter, to be seen,
Not an afterthought, nor a choice between.
A priority, the first pick, a sure bet,
Cherished and wanted, not left to forget.

From mad, I crave to matter, stand tall and proud,
Silencing critics, shouting my worth out loud.
I have worth, I have value, I am unique,
Deserving of love, to be someone's peak.

No longer will I settle, a mere backup plan,
Refusing to be an option, a grain of sand.
Rising above self-doubt, shattering chains in my mind,
Mattering to myself, my true worth I'll find.

So here's to moving forward, a fresh beginning,
Where I matter to me, my light brightly shining.
No more self-sabotage, no depths of self-esteem lows,
Embracing myself fully, watching my confidence grow.
Capturing the frustration of battling inner demons and the overwhelming weight of comparison and self-sabotage. This poem is about the search for validation, both from within and from others, and the desire to break free from the cycle that feels impossible to escape.
Zywa Sep 1
Of course I love him,

but still I am not happy --


Can it be true love?
Play "The Servants and the Snow" (1970, Iris Murdoch), Act One

Collection "Unspoken"
wake me
               shake me
out of this febrile trance
furtively pilfering my
heart's ancient treasure
once guarded
by comforting spirits
of warm hopes and
beliefs held beyond reason.

never questioned
by the minds tribunal--
the jurors seated
in the cranial court.
knowing eyes silenced
by misguided faith's rhetoric.

never minding
the persuasive muzzle.
often ignoring serpent's
retractable tongue.
always turning from
the dark corridors--
light banished
by modern-day pharisees

cloaked in mantles of treason
patronizingly diluting
what can only remain pure.
painted with pious platitudes.

away
         far away
i must sail from this folly--
an orphan of mystical doubt.
the frost and cold tempest I feel.

cautious sensibilities
a tenuous guide
through these gray
realms I traverse.
                      
trembling hands
grasp transient hopes
striving to shape
deeper meaning.

disciplining lazy
traditional beliefs
that hang on like
phosphorescent
spiders in the dusty
lofty
rafters of memory.

deceptive iconic silhouettes
faded       despiritualized
superimposed on a
human-made landscape--
a beautiful picture,
gold frame and all!

absence of religious
pop-culture faith
eclipses peace.
i shudder at the prospect
of this purge.
preparing for burial
what must die--
the end of an age
burned in effigy.

a raging wilderness
I now pass through.
i stumble by many
a familiar and
unfamiliar fane
longing to be clothed
with a mantle of peace.
                    
a vulnerable yet
strong spirit I guard.
let not trivialized faith be
my misleading guide.

and if it is all meaningless--
alas! it may be--
still I must forge
ahead to the sea--
ever mindful that rivers
never return to where
they have been
separated at birth.

i often hear roaring waves
crashing and gentler waves
lapping on shore--
but a body of water
is not always the Sea.
©2024 Daniel Irwin Tucker
Bekah Halle Oct 2
Doubt, fear, and insecurity subside into apathy,
And the ink dries with those dark lies.
Jeremy Betts Jul 23
Seeds of doubt churn with streams of hurt
Leaving it's mark from brain to heart like ruts in plowed dirt
It all collects and pools, a bottomless oddity here
Who's the capture, who's the prisoner? That's never been clear
Up to the moment life boils over the razors edge
Ribbons of crimson spill quickly, careening off the ledge
You had to have known it's all hollow, must I follow?
Must I always question while you threaten the finality of every tomorrow?

©2024
Jeremy Betts Jul 23
Seeds of doubt churn with streams of hurt
Blazing trails from brain to heart
It all collects, it pools deep there
Adopting the role of abuser, turning me prisoner
Before life spills over the razors edge
Ribbons of red spill over, off the ledge
Must I follow?
Must I alway question the finality of every tomorrow?

©2024
I S A A C May 27
without a doubt
i should be walking out
all the images we painted
are embers on the ground
without a doubt
we can bow out
the best performances around
ephemeral frowns
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