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Don’t close your eyes on your dreams—
you’ll lose sight of what you believe.
The will of your work is measured by
the work you’re willing to put in.
As I live in a house of emotions,
courting words to plead my case—
bleeding through a see-through face.
A quiet ache, always on trial.

Knowing that the high-and-mighty
Christian is the easiest target to bring down.
Careers cut short— because in short, they
never really knew the Lord.

And me?

I live like the world’s greatest plot twist,
my mind a tornado of thoughts—
every turn unexpected,
every breeze loud with questions.
I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned
trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue
used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself
down the same way you shoot others—whether
whispered or screamed out loud.

But those who follow their worth,
instead of searching for it in the crowd—
those are the ones who stand out.
Aloud.
Arna Jun 12
"Some things can only be carried as a responsibility throughout the life and can never be out of love."
Some responsibilities aren’t chosen out of love —
they're inherited, expected, and silently endured.
Arna Jun 10
Only absence makes clear of the value of their presence.
When Absence Speaks Louder Than Words
Arna Jun 9
“Some people come from nowhere and become family.”
It’s not always blood that builds a bond — sometimes it’s shared laughs, silent support, and showing up when it matters.
In the case of searching for the right man— is it really the right
man you're after, or just the right now kind? The good-time
lover. The temporary warmth. The one who shows up late, but
still makes you hope it wasn’t too late. Never mind how long it
takes— you’re just hoping you’ll be the one he takes.

And if you start to care, truly care, will the weight of his past rest
too heavy on your heart? Will it matter what he whispered into
someone else’s ear before whispering into yours? Would you
flinch knowing another ear was the trial run, and you’re just
the version he’s learning to hold better, running into his arms.

If his pride is armed like a gun— quick to shoot you down for
standing too close— if he can’t even see your reflection, like a
man wearing sunglasses indoors, would you still stay? Would
your cheeks burn too bright with blush, to see the red flags
waving in front of you?

I’ve been blinded like that before…by charm. By timing. By love,
that felt like truth but turned out to be dressed in denial.
Gabriel Yale Jan 15
In Warsaw’s heart, I step inside,  
Old memories rush, I can’t hide.  
"My love," she smiles, "I’m glad you're here,"  
But I sigh, "I wish it were mine, my dear."  

The street outside, through glass so dim,  
I step out, the world feels grim.  
A crash - glass falls, she calls my name,  
"All’s well," I say, through bleeding pain.  

Her smile stays, my love remains.
This poem captures the deep nostalgia of returning to a past home, a place intertwined with past memories and emotions. The protagonist’s longing is not just for the home but for a time shared with someone special, a girl who represents both the past and the future. Though the pain is palpable, his desire to be with her and share this moment overrides it. The shattered glass symbolizes the delicate balance between vulnerability and love, where moments of joy are often tinged with unacknowledged hurt. In the end, his love for her remains constant, even as he hides his wounds in order to stay together.

— The End —