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silver light Nov 21
the brightest stars originate from nothing
but the light at the end of this painful road is fleeting away
and im afraid ill never find myself kindling

the brightest stars shine among the black sea
but i find myself enveloped within the abyss
there's no point of return for me.

the brightest stars become prismatic clouds when they die
but i know now that even when i'm gone from this world
all that will be of me is a drifting waft of smoke resting by.

the universe is a perpetual dance of light
yet i find myself waltzing with the void
away from all, yet away from blight.

i may not become a star, let alone a kindle
but i'll be away from life's hatred
outside insolent maws, away from all - i dwindle.
i may not be a star like everyone else
and their brightness may burn my skin
but where red streaks of fire rest
cold, blue light under the moon
is where i find my only solace.
Jennifer Herbert Jun 2020
I sit here every evening
every night
Nothing comes to mind
No muse in sight
I have an ache inside
I can't describe
I type a few lines
Words won't rhyme
Failing each time
The sting inside
A low lit flame
Dwindling down to nothing
Why can't I find
What's burning inside
And type it all out
Confusing doubt
Not even sure what it's about
The words pour down the sink
Draining to never be seen
I'm stuck in between
The chaos unheard
And losing myself
Placing my unfinished words
Back on their shelf
Recently I've felt my passion dwindle.
I love writing, and maybe criticism is too much to ask for. I shouldn't need it. One single word can extinguish the flame I hold. Sadly.
s Willow Jan 2019
From in the shadows
they whisper,
grunt, and huff
waiting for me to drop my guard.

They’ll wait for the last bloomed rose.
Until the last snowfall of winter.
But after all and sure enough,
no one would think to look for you under the backyard.
Poetic T Feb 2018
When the walls falter,
crumbling within
                  realities windows,
                                  shattered inwards
by the tears that are dwindling emotions.

There is no place to smuggle,
        to hide within hollow walls.
Because when everything falls
                               were all exposed.
And everything is but a shell revelled.
Àŧùl Oct 2016
Your eyes are very unfaithful,
A swindling ******* you are.
You bereft me of all that light,
A dwingling light you were..
Youth had enticed me closer,
A cheating partner stabs me...
HP Poem #1185
©Atul Kaushal
Sorin L Javerin Apr 2016
Why must every waking moment
Of every day be plagued
By the thoughts of fear?

Thoughts of fear towards the one I love,
Whether or not she still loves me
Or if some other guy took her from me in the night.

Or whether she’s decided I’m not the one she wants,
And that as soon as i say good morning
She’ll respond with a good bye.

But worst of all I’m a afraid
That she just won’t respond to me at all
And that she’ll ignore me for a reason I don’t know.

Maybe if I looked at myself
In the mirror harder than i look at others
Then maybe I could discover what it is
That makes me fear a relationship so much…

But I’m more scared of what
I may find inside myself that I’ve been
Hiding all my life,

My secrets that are better left buried for all eternity,
The darkness that dwells forever in my heart
And the light that is flickering in my soul.

That light, it is the only light left,
The only vestige of good left inside of me.
And although it may never go out
It may become so small that it is insignificant.

Maybe if I can relight that once
Strong burning light then maybe
Just maybe I won’t be so scared…

Or maybe I should just let
That last vestige of light go out
Maybe it’d be better
For everyone for it to go out
And me along with it.

Maybe everyone would be better
Off if i had just left before they could know me
Maybe it would give them more happiness

Or maybe it’d allow them
To not feel the pain that always seems
To follow me wherever I go…

Maybe, just maybe
If that light goes out
I won’t be able to hurt anyone
Anyone but myself anymore.
Shadow Knight Apr 2015
Living in a world, caught between pain,
The arrogance of my heart, the insecurities in my brain,
A never-ending cycle, of true belief and true doubt
Almost sure I've reached my limit, need to find my way out

Like an inevitable cliché, I reach for comfort in the bottle,
As if an answer sits waiting for me in its hollow,
I've spent so many nights drowning through the years
No longer sure what I'm searching for, no longer sure if I care

Is it time to give up, to give in and move on?
Accept my place in this world and admit I'm not strong,
Or do I keep searching, and pushing for the light
For my piece of freedom to finally sleep through the night

I wish I knew the answer,
I fear I never will.
I hope I'll always care,
I fear I no longer do.

- Johnathan Andrews
Not mine but a friends.
K Balachandran Apr 2015
There is a heavily barred chamber between,
the bitter end of reality and the dream gone dark,
she was locked up there with a window open
to the nightmare created with marvelous illusions.
with a start, she saw little angels with clipped wings
looking out through the gaps of barbed wires
of a window, more of a hole on the wall, on the top floor.

They looked too young, trapped, blooming buds,
and they started to wave wildly at her, perhaps
thinking she could somehow help, take them out,
she felt dazed, as if a poison arrow hit her chest,
everything was dipping in dark, didn't look good at all,
felt like crying, she remembered, tears dried up, long before

from a safe distence seeing all this he felt crying out loud,
but didn't forget, he is only a butterfly, with fragile wings.
a girl with painted lips, he noticed was blowing a kiss
to a man in the balcony, perhaps.he didn't clearly see
his face, but why such affection, they didn't look like lovers!

The setting sun, he thought was fiercely crying,
with, heat , light and deepening shadows, that dance,
her eyes, indolent, fixed on a flower bed, a girl was
talking to her lover boy"Äll good things in life dwindle"
as if suggesting it's all over once and for all between them,
close by sitting on  a tired flower, preparing to close,
the butterfly saw the swarms of bees of night, approaching.

— The End —