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Zywa Aug 31
He plunges the knife

deep into her, Stop, I shout --


against my own dream.
Poem "Ik wilde niet dat vreemden recht spraken" ("I didn't want strangers to judge"), published in the autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'Herbert' - May 26th, 1976, Bologna

Collection "Trench Walking"
Jay Aug 31
I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt before. Sorry for not becoming the person you could be proud of, for leaving work unfinished while the expectations around me only grow higher. How can one man be too much and yet never enough at the same time? How do I stop the hurt, not only in my own heart, but in the scars I leave behind on others? It’s overwhelming, this fear of losing it all. I imagine the castle I’ve built crumbling once again, the story of my life replaying with the same unhappy ending. No matter how hard I try, it never seems to be enough. I climb toward dry land only to be pulled back into the current. Sometimes I feel I’ve wasted the most important years of my life, sitting still, watching time slip through my fingers. Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into years, all fading into distant memories. My indecisiveness isn’t from fear of choosing wrong, but from never really having a choice at all, just making do with whatever I’m handed. I’m exhausted. I push myself past my limits for reasons I don’t even understand anymore. I want perfection, even if it’s impossible. I want to be the best version of myself for the one who needs me. But how can I be who you need when I can’t even be who I want? I don’t even write anymore. It’s like the pen has finally run out of ink.
AnonymousR Aug 30
What else could we do but pray to God?
How could I explain them the shivers that i fought?

Time and tide wait for none,
A truth so cruel,built with fun

What else could we do but accept our fate?
Will we be able to look back , when we, are finally late?

Slowly floating towards boundless, a place so dark
I wish i could end the act, without leaving behind a mark

A small little flower,that was bloomed, in an unknown place
Stared all day, towards the vast sky, for just a little trace

Staring towards the endless horizon , as if there was any life
Maybe it was waiting to shine like a meteorite

A universe so vast, countless galaxies,
Yet it thought, it was big , like an algea under the seas

Suddenly, the sky, began to shatter
The flower wished, if it could finish the letter

The eyes, began to open ,slowly with pains
A little boy found himself,  in a garden of gains

A little flower bloomed , just beside a drain
He saw it and thought he finally could, leave the train..
“Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon.”
E. M. Forster

There was no spoon feeding life to me,
gentle nibbles from a mind set on
sugar coating there would be more
days of blackberry thorned hours than sweet pudding.

How does one speak of horror
to a child who trusts fairytales
grow reality from glittered imaginations?

I learned so very young monsters
don’t leave when a storybook presses
them between its pages…They stalk you
at dinner tables, in empty rooms,
within the sound of voices oblivious
to screams trapped in the cage of your throat.

In the oddity of breathing terror circumstances turned
me comedian, precocious child full of questions,
a crybaby at scratches while silent in the clutches
of a demon.

In the etiquette of spoons never judge
the one who doesn’t hold it correctly.
She may be a survivor who’d rather
eat the soup than explain why she
doesn’t have an affinity for shallow silver.
Raziel Aug 29
Her
Her

Don’t look up,
Don’t look there,
Keep your eyes closed,

...what was that sound?
that flicker–
that light–
Did I shut the door?

I can’t breathe,
I can’t see,
Is she–
Is she near?

Over there,
Over here,
Right here,
Too close,

Close your eyes,
Tighter,
Tighter,

Don’t open,
Don’t open,

Don’t
Look
Up
I see her in my nightmares
Raziel Aug 29
Intruder, intruder
Wake up, wake up
The birds are screaming the alarm.

Intruder, intruder
Wake up, wake up
The silence is growing louder,
The shadows creeping closer.

Intruder, intruder
Wake up, wake up
She’s coming, she’s coming.
Close the door,
Go,
Move,
Open your eyes, open your eyes,
Wake UP
WAKE UP

INTRUDER
I'm terrified of every corner of my home
F Elliott Aug 27

Stone upon stone,
the walls were raised;
each block a silence,
each silence a debt
never spoken of aloud.

Within,
the child’s voice echoed,
but the mortar held fast,
sealing grief in chambers
where no light could enter.

From the outside,
the fortress looked steady,
even noble--
its towers reaching upward,
its gates well-kept..
its banners bright.

But within its walls,
rot thickened
and the beast..
undisturbed,
found shelter.

Every silence defended it.
Every smile concealed it.

   Every careful word
   laid another stone
   against the truth.

And though the watchman cried,
the city called the fortress beautiful.

Every fortress defends
but none heals.


Every wall that protects
      is also a wall
    that imprisons.

Trauma builds with silence as mortar. Each unspoken truth becomes a stone in the wall, each careful smile a tower that hides what festers inside.

From the outside, the fortress looks strong.. even admirable. But within its walls, the beast remains untouched. This piece speaks to the architecture of denial: how families, communities, even whole societies build fortresses that protect appearances while sacrificing souls.

And to those who build their fortresses of silence, who entrench themselves in deception and call it strength.. this is for you. There are battles that words alone cannot soften, and for those battles the posture is Headstrong.

This is where the silence ends. The fortress you defend cannot heal, and the fight you dismiss as madness will not bow to your walls.

For those who choose to be self-entrenched.. who make the fortress their stronghold, hiding behind its ramparts a counterfeit “strength” built from the empty pit of unresolved years, dressing up brick and mortar to conceal the hollowness within.. this song is for you--


"Conclusions manifest
Your first impressions
got to be your very best

I see you're full of ****
and that's alright
That's how you play,
I guess you get through every night..

Well, now that's over

I see your fantasy
You wanna make it a reality
paved in gold
See inside, inside of our heads, yeah
Well, now that's over"

I see your motives inside
Decisions to hide

https://youtu.be/hYW5iD6eqM8?si=ye8lzLVMbRkPE63Q


This is not where you belong.
The fortress cannot stand forever

The child will outlast the walls.
Selah

xo
The memories of you are gone
But I can smell the burning
The hills were savannahs when we were lions
But now the danger is gone
I have always been afraid of steep angles
Of losing my balance, rolling down into oblivion
But today I only feel my own altitude
The mountains are leaning towards me

The sun is a kindness I don’t feel I deserve
But it warms me without discretion
Without thought
Coal left over from the fire
The wind makes me remember when I closed my eyes
Held my head down in the face of the smoke
I climbed on top of a large rock
And haven’t looked down
Marwan Baytie Aug 24
Eyes meet, shadows speak,  
questions coil in tender air,  
truth hides, sharp, unknown.  
Our silence—both wound and balm,  
bridging what we fear to say.
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