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tree Sep 2
after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar

i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks

no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself
i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible
i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me
i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there

i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but
i see myself in everything i mourn for

i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but
i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes

the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life

in the end, i became who i am because of you
humans are but mosaics of the people around them ;;; we are such little seeds if not watered by loved ones
MsRobota Jul 24
Poorly-contained ball of anxiety
Anxiety
Overanalyzing every interaction
Interaction

I'll tell you something sweet
Sweet

Write down
antidotes
and compliments
and silly jokes
on sticky notes

Scattered
along the floor
on the wall
in the car

I'll tell you something sweet
Sweet
Mark Wanless Feb 7
hitting myself in
the head with a chair leg i
sit on bathroom floor
People’s feet are hurting,
dresses and shoes are a size smaller than theirs.
They’re taking chances, and going to dances
and the truer selves are calling for help.

They’re dressed in their nicest,
their inner screams are the quietest.
Under the gleaming smiles,
their broken, imperfect selves are quietly calling for help.

The smoothest white marble floor lies,
in the reflection they seem to be perfect
while they’re numb inside.
Living corpses are calling for help.

They’re breathing slowly,
to cope with the swift dancing.
The masses are strategizing and scheming
on how not to call for help.

All is calm and feelings are suppressed.
Suddenly!
Chandeliers are falling,
glass is on the dance floor
and hoofers are calling for help.
Naveen Malhotra Oct 2020
Standing before
A bonfire
I see faces
In the fire
Looking at
The clouds
I see faces
In the clouds
Staring at
A historic wall
I see faces
In the wall
Focusing on
A ***** floor
I see faces
In the floor
Watching
Mountain rocks
I see faces
In the rocks
Perceiving
Depth of
A painting
I see faces
In the painting
Gazing the sky
At night
I see a face
In the Moon
All these
Pareidolia faces
Not known
Harm anybody
Turning around
I see faces
Different from
Pareidolia faces
Some unreally
Real faces
Under heavy duty
Maintenance
Sorry, makeup
Every fortnight
Ready for
A break up
Some real
Beautiful faces
Some real
Ugly faces
Not Judged
By the eyes
But by the
Heart's cry
Pareidolia is a normal phenomenon in human psychology.
With every move of my mop I am dying. People are stepping on me as they step on the garbage lying on the floor.
July Gray Sep 2020
I'm falling. And if
I tell the world I am down
No one will help me

I suppose it's sad
Tragic. lying on the floor
But surely I fell

Of my own doing
So I must stay here broken
And very lonely
Depression from repressed emotions I guess
Garrett Johnson Sep 2020
Naturally walked.

Even the alacrity in the spots.
Stars the undoing of nervous endeavors.
And pines made of thought thrown asunder.
The globes.
Softly speaking.
And smile fragile.
Then gone.
The spiral orb.
She waits.
In arms.
Tended to in black.
Asked in gloom.
Pillaging mind wasting.
And rest.
In a frantic sooth.


Garrett Johnson
Where'd you go?
many dappled shadows
played on the forest's floor
as light winds did blow
Bhill Jun 2020
suddenly, up out from his hole, the lizard crawled
crawled and wriggled over the dirt searching for it's prey
the prey that would sustain him for the rest of his life
he didn't know that it would be his final meal
he didn't know that behind that cactus stood a roadrunner
a roadrunner, who delights in savory lizard treats right from the desert floor
he had no chance...
the cycle of life circles on as the roadrunner scurries away with the lizard dangling from its beak

Brian Hill - 2020 # 176
The cycle goes on and on...
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