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teatears Oct 3
two voices
sing like one

one song
but now it's done

i still can't

forget your voice


...


because your echo keeps filling up my hollow heart
emlyn lua Sep 26
Daffodil, daffodil, can’t you see?
I love you sweet flower,
But you don’t love me.
You know me not, so I suppose,
I am but a mirror,
Blank as shadows.

Without people I am mute,
Mere consciousness,
A playerless lute.
Around too many others
I am a scramble,
Their presence smothers.

Daffodil, daffodil, look not listen,
I am a poor imitation
But my eyes, they glisten.
I am nothing at all of my own:
Composed of distant fragments,
Patchwork of all I’ve known.

I have nothing you could call a true voice;
The words that I speak
Are not mine of choice.
I love you, I love you,
I can never say,
Unless you do too.
Poetic T Sep 14
I felt *****,
        worm down.
        but I stepped into the rain.


Every droplet had a meaning,
                 erasing, cleansing
moments that clung onto me.

Some were easy to dislodge,
              washing away before me.

Others were like soot, coalmine
                                                deep.

Only the deluge before the pause,
                                  awoke my life.

Something's never really clean away,
           but are dulled, only to await

the next deluge to cleanse me
                     that little bit more.
LC Sep 3
they push and push and push you
until you wonder where the light is,
if there's an end in sight,
if you should create that ending.
you're tired of wearing yourself thin,
of sacrificing your health for others,
of not being able to breathe.

when the madness echoes
from the walls of your mind,
you extend your hand for help.
you may think you're alone,
but you'll feel another hand in yours.
they'll help you find your way,
and you'll be okay.
you're not alone.
Nigdaw Aug 29
From one
Many will come.
Like an echo
Continued in time;
Unique in their likeness
Universally the same;
Standing together, alone
Waving in unison,
As flags at the sun.
Life and colour
Is all they have,
That they share.
Written about a field of poppies, with more than just poppies in mind.
B D Caissie Aug 21
Just once I wish my echo had something better to say...
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