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Rosie Mg Apr 2
Hoarse and devil-like.
He was blue.
Charming and flew;
a shooting star,
but below earth.
Below observable boundaries.
Not real; made-up.
Ocean huge,
blue, not fire.
Burnt, patched-up
by tears flowing high
away from the stars.
The sky lit up
with solitude's abyss.
It wrapped him up
with social boundaries.

Close-winged angel.
She was velvet-red.
Hopeful and greedy;
catastrophe struck,
enveloping their home,
bounding her sight.
SHE,
VELVET RED,
full of life; un-wanting of it.
Her soft heart
grows dark.
"Look" - "She wants it".
She cried; blood - pain.
A hole she dug with society's help.
Tied her down - with social boundaries.
Written in 2025.
You try your best,
to stand out of the rest.
Little did you know it had a cost.
Learn to find your way or you'll get lost.

When they start looking up to you,
they'll keep asking you what to do.
Don't get too attached, our you'll be their answer tool.
If you fail to give a satisfactory answer, you're no more than just a fool.

But who truly is the fool?
The user, or the tool?
The giver, or the receiver?
The puppet, or the master?

It all depends on how you perceive it.
People do not realize it one bit,
realize that you're the same as them too.
But their ignorance made them unable to.

Sugarcoated intentions,
are like cursed potions.
Angel in disguise?
gamble, to meet your demise.

Whispers sweet nothings to your ears,
will make you reveal your fears.
Once you start talking to the demon.
And you enjoyed it after talking for an eon.
The next time it talks to someone,
It'll use your voice to fool everyone.

What did you do to deserve this kind of treatment?
Infact, all you wanted was to get an achievement.
Now you're bombarded with unexpected expectations.
From people you barely know, saying congratulation.

Pick your choice,
stand out, but lose your voice.
Or compress, for your skills to be overshadowed.
Pick wisely, for your reputation takes years to load.

Your choice determines your reputation.
Shine, to be used for the wrong intention,
or hide, for your skills to be shunned in one swift motion.
Pick, or do it wisely as this is real, not fiction.
Zywa 3d
People aren't easy,

they're full of expectations --


that keep pushing you.
Autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'Kees en ik' ('Neil and I') - March 20th, 1983, Bologna

Collection "Trench Walking"
Srishti Jul 13
When someone asked me:
“What did you
get from being
good?”
I said —
“Nothing.”

“What did you
get for being
quiet?”
I said —
“Guilt.”

“What did you
get by being
the elder?”
I said —
“Expectations.”

“What did you get
from being
innocent?”
I said —
“A title:
'Poor girl'.”

“What did you get
by helping
everyone?”
I said —
“Betrayal.”
It's said that Sometimes saying no is good. but what if you don't know how to say no.
Yash Shukla Jul 11
कशात हुडकावा आनंद
हे आजकाल कळेनासं झालंय,
आनंदी राहायचं कारण
आजकाल मिळेनासं झालंय.

जुने दिवस आठवावे म्हणतो,
जरा भावनिक होईन म्हणतो...
पण मग पडतो प्रश्न येऊन –
की भावना तरी उरल्यात का आता?
आश्रू अनावर व्हायला,
ते अश्रू तरी उरलेत का आता?

प्रेमाला शोधायच्या आशेने
आयुष्याच्या जंगलात भटकतो,
खोट्या आशेच्या नदीत
थोडा वेळ पहुडतो.
पण होईन का मी ओला प्रेमाने त्या नदीत?
का होईल मला भास,
आणि पडेन मी दुःखाच्या दरीत?
का दिसेल मला मृगजळ
त्या भाबड्या, प्रेमळ हरणाचं?

जाऊदे ते सगळं –
मी जाऊन काहीतरी खातो,
पाणीपुरीतलं पाणी
जरा मिटक्या मारत पितो.
पण मग येतं डाएट आडवं
आणि दाखवतं जाडी माझी –
"३६ ची पॅन्ट घालायची लायकी आहे का तुझी?
पोटावर पडल्यात वळ्या,
आणि गाल झालेत गुबगुबीत,
हत्ती सारखे पाय तुझे,
शरीर दिसतंय बटबटीत!"

मग आठवतं मला करिअर,
आणि मिळवू म्हणतो पैसा...
करिअरच्या टेन्शनने
क्षीण होऊन जातो नाहीसा.
इतके श्रीमंत होऊ की
असेल बंगला, गाडी,
भरपूर फ्लॅट घेऊ,
महिन्याला येतील भाडी.
पण तिथे तरी हा माजोर्डा रूबाब
देईल का मला सुख?
आणि एवढं सगळं करून शेवटी मला
राहील का आनंदाची भूक?

कशात हुडकावा आनंद?
हे आजकाल कळेनासं झालंय...
आनंदी राहायचं कारण
आजकाल मिळेनासं झालंय.
ही कविता २८ मे २०२५ रोजी लिहिलेली आहे
I tried to define us with words––what I thought you felt,
what I hoped we were.

But you told me,
more than once.
I just wasn’t ready to hear it.
I clung to the lines I’d written,
while your actions
kept rewriting the truth.

It wasn’t silence that hurt.
It wasn’t the echo of what you said finally sinking in––
It was not realizing sooner…
Emery Feine Jul 8
i slept a dreamless sleep
for i knew i would awaken
to a dream in front of me

starry black curtains
that swayed in the morning breeze
i fear i have mistaken them
for the galaxy

and the dream i searched for that day
appeared before my eyes
but was as close and far as the milky way
a nightmare drenched in lies

and in my dreamless slumber
i guess i had hoped for too much
because the vibrant fireworks i had expected
were dull sparks
that i visioned were a flame
but were from a pile of ash
"man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is"
-albert camus
Matt Jun 23
I don’t need a love that waits outside,
pacing hospital halls with excuses in hand.
I need someone who will sit beside me,
fingers laced through mine like stitches,
pulling me together where I unravel.

I don’t need a love that floats above,
watching from shore, calling me back.
I need someone who will drown with me,
trusting I will rise, trusting I will take them too,
because I have before. Because I will.

We were parallel lines, forever close,
never meant to touch—
until the moment you turned to me,
until I turned to you,
and suddenly, we crossed, suddenly, we changed.
Perpendicular. Colliding.

But love is cruel in the ways it saves.
The only way I knew to love you
was to give you silence. To give you peace.
And so, I did. I let you go,
not because I stopped loving you,
but because I never would.
You must be honest with your expectations of love, and if you don't think someone is going to meet those expectations, you must reflect, and sometimes make the hard decision to let them go, otherwise you risk hurting yourself, them, or both.
badwords Jun 19
A call not about
Sweepstakes I never entered
Just a wrong number
In this minimalist yet emotionally layered haiku, the speaker recounts a seemingly mundane event: receiving a phone call that turns out to be a wrong number. However, the poem uses this incident as a metaphor for the larger emotional experience of entering new relationships—particularly the hopeful, uncertain space where romantic potential lives and often dissolves.

The poem opens with “A call not about,” a line intentionally left incomplete, evoking a sense of open possibility. It invites the reader into a moment of suspended expectation, paralleling the anticipation often felt when meeting someone new. This expectation is expanded in the second line, “Sweepstakes I never entered,” which cleverly captures the irrational hope for sudden emotional reward—desire without groundwork, love without history. The speaker knows the odds, yet still yearns.

The final line, “Just a wrong number,” delivers an understated but poignant turn. What initially felt like fate or connection is revealed as coincidence—an impersonal glitch mistaken for meaning. In doing so, the poem critiques the human tendency to romanticize beginnings, projecting possibility onto strangers, only to face the quiet disillusionment that follows.

Through everyday imagery and restrained language, the poet reflects on the fragility of expectations in modern connection. The piece resists melodrama, instead presenting romantic disappointment with irony and emotional clarity, suggesting that in love—as in life—what feels destined is often accidental.
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