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Savlli 13h
i have not written
for days,
and it makes me feel
cursed!
Sick!


my head tilting,
dizzy with vertigos,
a nauseous  stirring
with words churning -
trapped.
what was that?
a sound?
a gasp, a sigh or a scream
or the desperation to bleed
words -
unless they break free from this prison
in my head.


the air lacks -
maybe some oxygen,
maybe some space,
despite deep breaths,
a familiar feeling -
the air being swallowed whole
before it can settle,
or submerging my face into water
bursting bubbles to fracture the silence.
maybe they are taking it all
maybe the 'words' are still wondering
if it's worth leaving,
if it's worth  escaping
a place that feeds them




how much do they need
to spark a flame -
burn
a wildfire in my head,
to set themselves free,
or carve open a wound
to spills through veins,
and smudging their escape
on parched plain  papers.



how many more days?
scraping tally marks on cemented walls
impatiently relying on these slow
screeches between seconds.
1.  Don't write when you're tired.
2. If you must, don't write things you'll regret.
3. Don't treat a serious feeling as a joke.
4. Think fourteen plus times before saying/doing anything.
5. Be available for anything.
6. Only risk what you're willing to lose.
7. Risk only to gain.
8. If you don't think it'll be enjoyed, don't do it at all.
9. Fix problems with more than, "I'm sorry."
10. Please don't write when your tired.
In beauty's embrace, majestic with grace

Soothing, yet a lingering sense of sadness filled up the place,

Unwanted thoughts wind up like a haphazardly tied lace

Been alone countless times won't deny

Maybe it'll be over soon, sighs

I did cry, but I won't pry, I must try and try and try, relentlessly, I don't know why?

Something tells me to do so, and no I won't ask any questions, I'm too tired.

My head feels heavy and it feels cold

Yes, I am a reckless fool, but let truth be told,

hold up, behold,

A free soul, got locked up, in a stronghold, due to freefall, did a reroll, felt an unease, faulty threshold, with a default,
Setting.

Yet I thrived on, not with violence, but with a smile on,
Dreams engulfed in darkness, yet persevered and fight on.
Emotions masked, I fight on, a battle of silence, I reckon

I'm a lost soul at a crossroad, with no hope, yet I try on,
I hold my head up high, a bit shy, but I try
To change the narrative, to rewrite my sky.

I see the highs, I see the lows,
Life's a cinematic film, beautifully composed.
It's real though, no retries, no cheats,
A mistake made, a life fades, "Scream!" echoes in the streets.

Skill issue, you say? Perhaps it's true,
The presence of another is a dream I pursue.

Alas, my fumbling technique never ceases to amuse,
Back to solitude, melancholy's muse.

Walking up the road less travelled by, devoid of any gleam,
A haunting daydream, or so it would seem.

No destination, no direction, just endless extremes,
A conflicted response, a ghastly gleam.

Alone through the time, a truth I've known,
Helplessness grips, a silent pathetic moan.

Guilty, vulnerable, yet a soul set free,
I hate to admit it, but I won't concede.

Heartbreaks, anxieties, failures persist,
Giving up is foolishness, not on my list.

Break me, bury me, all for your thrill,
My body may perish, but never will my will.

Intrusive thoughts roam around, Like I’m fallin’ off of a cliff
The desire to bounce back is sharper than you think
I'm not the one who's drowned here man,
I stand alone, like a “Poneglyph”
My spirit untouched, my soul unbound like a monolith

A rowdy spirit, scorned with disdain,
I'll mock you still, throughout the pain.

I choose my role and I define my fate,
Your words, your arrogance, I disrespectfully negate.

In defiance, I speak with a voice loud and clear,
"The path is treacherous, hearts break, I fear."

The soul’s burnin’, seeking a purpose anew,
To burn it all down, tired of feeling blue.

A voice echoes, a spiteful chill,
Fate falters frivolously front of a mortal's will,
The birth of a legend, just like the Hercules’ will

The poem concludes, a profound standstill,
A journey through emotions, in verses that I instill.
                                                                             -Asher Graves
This poem is a reflection of the silent wars we fight within—the chaotic harmony between vulnerability and resilience. It's about walking alone when no one understands, yet refusing to lay down even when everything screams “give up.” I wrote this during a moment of mental fog and emotional exhaustion, where the only clarity came from putting feelings into form.

The piece isn't polished with comfort. It’s jagged and heavy on purpose. Life doesn't come in neat stanzas, and neither does healing. You'll find scattered metaphors, anime references, poetic contradictions, and a stubborn flame that keeps burning—because even in brokenness, there's defiance. Even in solitude, there's meaning.

This is for anyone who’s felt like a background character in their own story, who’s laughed through tears and masked scars with smiles. You're not alone in your silence. This is me screaming back at the void, not to be heard—but to remind myself that I'm still here.

Keep fighting, even if it’s just to prove the silence wrong.

— Asher Graves
My tears ***** my eyes
As they show great weakness
As if I’ve out turned my insides
They’ve spilled my greatest secrets

My voice shakes and squeaks
As my reason tries to speak
As I try to hide my clear
Red Eyes that still leak

My hands try to hide
My puffed face as I writhe
My pain now so clear
All in vain now I’ve cried

My eyes meet their eyes
As I show all my weakness
My stoic stubborn pride
Shattered in tear shaped pieces
There are days
my chest burns
with a thousand unnamed feelings,
and I swear,
if I don’t find a place to put them,
I’ll split open
from the inside.

I romanticize everything—
the way light moves through a curtain,
the way someone laughs
without knowing I’m listening—
and it wrecks me.

I carry every goodbye like a funeral.
I fall in love with strangers
for no reason
but the way they exist.

The world wants me dull.
Wants me quiet,
contained.
But I’m all crescendo—
too loud,
too tender,
too much.

And oh,
where—
oh, where
to pour all this softness,
when no one knows how to hold it.
Swimming in the thicket
Thickness of thorns tearing the fabric
Bones ache as blood curdles
It's bad magic.

There’s a chance at this,
Hunting the wishing wells for a mad Alice
White rabbits,
Time watching like a gatekeeper
Tight rope overhead tiptoeing past all seers
Never saw me coming, no.
Not when I’m silent.

Behind the veil of a smile,
Lurks a wolf’s grin
And I’m licking greedily,
Needing to feed my violence.

You’ll never know how these gears turn,
Feel the dark tides smack along the shoreline
Tripping the trip wires —
I’m snapping and you can’t see the monster lurking.
My mind should come with a warning sign.

“Danger close”
My mind should come with a warning sign
The petals last pulse under forgotten echoes of moonlit shadows,
remained in a lavender scented field, soulfully still

The breath of crushed velvet, paired with unnamed galaxies,
bespoke of amethyst daydreams

Woven into them were sighs of silky dust nights,
filled with scorched upheavals

Dancing orchids draped in full bloom,
stirred fiery rains, flowing within air of royal dusk moons

Wisteria hues,
too refined for eggplant plums & hominy hums

Iridescent irises & lilac leaves whispered between
blue lagoons cloaked in filtered rooms

Still, they stand between
midnight dreams & mystical realities
my shot at a longer poem using an impressionistic poetry style and today's WD PAD challenge, "write a color poem"
The weather seems alright, beautiful and uptight,
Sweet with less avarice, an endless horizon, and a fleeting sight.
In my world, she was the weather,
I could do anything, but with her, I seem to do better.
Nothing seemed impossible, not even venturing through the Nether.
Effulgent was her presence; enticing, her nature,
The talks kept getting better and better and better,
It felt like the one we were looking for was here to savor.

Malicious and full of grief that once seemed as my future,
Looked like a disoriented thought more than ever.
I remember,
Back in the day when I was wilding,
Beautiful waves of comedic relief were a frequent sighting,
I used to have fun and not fight,
These demons, these thoughts that were always spouting,
Restraining me since I always doubted (myself),
But I knew there's always something,
To get me started,
I relinquished myself from ever doubting.

Nostalgic,
Thought that would be the way to deal with such things,
Big mistake! Because I got apprehended,
Condescending, thoughts got crazy; nobody to talk to, baby.
Misdirection, mazes of maybes, intercepting, decisions hazy,
On second thought, this person's lazy.

Now in a field of darkness, so full of despair,
I found you out of nowhere,
A spark of light and a gasp for air,
That's what I felt when my gaze landed upon you,
That even I could prosper, even by the length of a hair.
I was delighted for that came as a conclusion,
For a long time, I hadn't smiled, but then I did, as if I were adhered,
Sickeningly, any bond I form is doomed to fall, I fear,
Regardless of how much I do, it's always a "Too Sweet" kind of dilemma, my dear,
I don't easily love, but I loved you, even if it was due to my insecurities and issues, I state my mind clear,
Kind of pointless to rant and yap to myself, writing paragraphs upon paragraphs, hoping you'd notice; clowning myself, makes me jeer,
I guess that's how the story goes for a hopeless romantic expecting love to be simple as he was sincere.

With all these melodramatic events, I reckon he could really do some improv,
One such thing is doing a show, but won't it be too rough?
He might become yet another one to bite the dust,
A victim of emotion,
A victim of trust.
Life's predicament is quite harsh and if not for his experience, he'd been lost,
Though sounds drastic and revolting,
Giving up can also be a sign of love,
A hope for emotion,
A hope for trust,
Thus, this lousy "Rascal doesn't dream of falling in love”.

                                                                                      -Asher Graves
There’s an anime called Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai, and it’s one of my absolute favorites. I always wanted to write something inspired by its title — and this piece came out as a result. It's both sentimental and slow-burn, just like the feelings the anime evokes for me.
Lynn 7d
How is the bird to go home
When all it knows is the cold
The rainy and the harsh
The curses and the shots
When it tries to run away
The darkness coerces it to stay
So even if the bird is free
It will never truly be
Ghostcat Apr 26
I wear my face, a mask of stone,  
A quiet facade in the world alone.  
But inside, a symphony plays its part,  
The clash of chaos, the whispers of heart.  

The voices rise, the tides they turn,  
Emotions flicker, steady to burn.  
To let them out—what price to pay?  
Will they take the light of day away?  

Unstable, yes, but not undone,  
A prism reflecting more than one.  
Each shard of doubt, each twist of pain,  
Adds depth to the self I can’t explain.  

Don’t fear the dark—it shapes the hue,  
The hidden parts are also you.  
For every shadow, there’s a grace,  
A fragile beauty in this space.
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