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Piyush Sharma Apr 15
I've penciled my wounds over paper,
When people departed & left me an anaesthetic nature.
Had some ecstasy on the journey too,
No remorse there & that's something true.
Though I've been stuffing down all of my fumes,
May be that's what you do when all you have are echoing rooms.
Yeah I became sagacious enough on this path not taken,
Roved into a phase where memories get forsaken.
That's something you dream when you've been in rain,
And furnished others in a blissed frame.
This confounded world of such people...
Has an unexpected ecstasy in its own steeple.
It's actually kinda sad but being an introvert seems a better option in this generation.
Simon Jul 2020
I rhyme to stay in touch with my own inner child!
Only enough before I realize I'm already too old to admit I've been wrong about why I've always thought I'd been rhyming...when it wasn't to begin with.
With that I've forsaken my own trust about who I am...till the very end!
Rhyme as you must... It's nothing to truly be taken seriously, unless it's an option to help you simply cope!
SammyJoe Jun 2020
I hate this temporary psychological condition
It's a knock on effect of what I can't write

I sit and stare at my blank piece of paper
Frustrated, can't sleep, up all night

I feel all inspirations drain from me
Click, click goes the top of my pen (again)

I'm determined to beat you and not let you win
**** you disambiguation.
Grey Mar 2020
The same ones who hate me
tend to try and break me,
Curse and forsake me,
Then cry when they **** me.

Then they see,
That they actually need me

it's too late for that now,
Because I do not break and I certainly won't bow.
They have condemned me for now
But watch them as they come back around.....

For Help.
Hating what is provided and then loving it when it saves them. Weird how that works, right?
Winter Sparrow Dec 2019
The raiding has begun again.
This land is no longer fertile.
Its tainted and dry.
Too painful to stay in this place.

We raid with no compass.
No direction. Only the wind.
Let it fill my spirit with stallions.
Let it fill my anger with wolves.

Wherever we go, we know not where!
Wherever I go. I will shield myself.
However, should the wind drag me back.
Should you find me again.

Do not fool me once more.
I forgive, but forgiveness hands on a loose thread.
I do not forget; memories are feelings.
And I cannot forget how you made me feel.

It was better then any wine.
But cut deeper then any sword.
You wrote about me.
Now you have erased me.

The raider was raided.
The thief was robbed.
The archer was shot.
The trickster was tricked.
Xant Sep 2019
The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored
My high school friend who had a dysfunctional family told me that she would never want to go home ever again.

She sees her family as what was beautiful, now sorrowful.

I could only imagine how her sweet childhood memories (re: yellow brick road) had turned bitter (re: red from blood).

And this poem, I dedicate it to her.
I wish her happiness :)
fraudelle Sep 2019
If you don't want me to be with
You can still walk beside me...
I can sing you a song
That will end with nothing...

I just want to say

I won't stop on reaching you
Even sands won't allow me...

I can wait during fall... Spring even winter.

All I want is to be remembered...

In this coming summer.
Boundaries
C H A T A N T May 2019
A misunderstood soul
With many complications
Walking a steady pace
Into the darkness
Nisha Fatima Jan 2019
Kneeling down on this filthy floor,
Filthy with guts and audacity,
In the hands of every form but me,
While im here still dreadfully desperate for an ally,
But social interaction, though I covet for it a lot,
Its still unendurable to liaise,
With all psyche and be extant,
Except the unseen ethos,
That i seek answers from at night.
©inkedsolace
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