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Sam 15h
I stared at you,
a cold empty face.
You didn't have much time for me,
and nothing much to say.

You never really touched me,
and if you did you made it hurt.
With spite you said I remind you of him,
I felt to blame, but wasn't sure.

Was it my fault when you left?
Because you never said goodbye.
Yet you took the others with you,
and the soul of a small boy died.

Strangely as I grew older,
you relied on me the most.
I kept trying to earn your love,
to bleed affection from a ghost.

With my early twenties scattered,
I couldn't pinpoint how I felt.
I was broken and alone,
while juggling shards of shattered self.

As time progressed I began to heal,
and put myself in a better place.
I understand too much to hate you,
But I don't have much to say.

I know the pain you went through,
that you were damaged from the start.
A lonely child you were too,
with missing pieces of your heart.

I couldn't bring myself to do to you,
the things you did to me.
To perpetuate that awful cycle,
so forgiveness set me free.

Forgiveness is a habit,
not a singular event.
Sometimes past words and actions
muster up my soul's lament.

But through it all you're still my heart,
and that's not an easy pill to swallow.
But I won't live life filled with resentment,
we're not guaranteed tomorrow.

I remember the night I danced with you,
Such Great Heights, Iron and Wine.
I wanted you to know that I could love you through it all.
I will give more than I was given, dearest mom of mine.
psyche 1d
There's a reason
why coach calls for time outs

It's either
he cares for his players
or he was bothered by the numbers.

Either way,
I prefer watching the ball freed.
Ayesha 2d
I too fly above
the skies, but in a manner
unacceptable.

A midnight doubt translated into a crowd of words.
Reality is jaded, memories are faded
The end of a long hedonistic night comes down to the same old plight
Reminiscent of the old days when you never knew you had enough to go on,
In the end, you always got more than what you thought
Is it the freedom that you're after? or is it the one that's chasing you?
Are you trying to create a story for yourself?
Or just being a part of one makes you feel complete?
Maybe you've always given your best, maybe all you need is some rest
Some shut-eye to take a temporary pause in a life that never stops
Will you ever get there or is it just a waste of time?
Will your passion be the wildfire you crave or will it put you in your grave?

There's no end to this pretend, maybe this is the wrong intent
Project what you are, there's no reason to be scared
Madness is the only reality and reality is the only madness
You thought life was a gravy train and you arrive late to the station
But believe that this struggle is your only salvation

Now that you try to fight it, try to snap out of it, it seems harder than usual
This encounter with your past self might not seem so casual
Maybe it has some significance
Or is there another meaning to life?
Well, if at the end of the tunnel you see the meaning
Will you chase it or would you want to transcend the feeling?
Because maybe if you already found the meaning, your life would lose it.
cyrene 3d
hands pure as snow picking me up from thorns piercing through.
chills overcome as it levitates me above into the air of peace where no home of pain resides.

up, up and away i go leaving rough tracks and stone pathways.

no more pain, no more weight.
it has become
the daily accessory
hated and loved alike
sign of bad times
and limited mobility

by some
   equanimously accepted
   as yet another fashion piece
for others
   a threatening symbol
   of prescribed orders from above
for many
   just a necessary nuisance
    that will go away in time

we certainly need to change
our reflexes upon the sight
of persons masked

    before Corona
         at least in our latitudes
    masks were a sign of robbers and bandits

    now it’s the good guys who wear them
    the bad guys who don’t
    and … how can we be sure of that?

a real challenge to find out
just from the movement of the eyebrows
whether you face a friend
or not
Face masks seem to be a serious problem for more people than one would think, for a variety of reasons. But they also force us to change our interpretations of visual perceptions..
TD 4d
Free because of love
and choosing to be enslaved to it.
Without a willingness to serve
liberty would be a shallow goal
beaten to the grave.
And pride—
a cold comfort.
Thank you to all who have humbly given of themselves to serve others. You are the heroes, those who sacrifice your comfort for our good.

1 Peter 2:16
They tell me to stick to my roots
because roots lead up to shoots.
They tell me to stick to my origin
unaware of how it acts as a prison,
My roots are Draupadi's hair that was twisted and lugged,
my roots are Draupadi's saree that was tugged.
My roots are Sita's wrist Ravana wrested,
my roots are where Ahalya's chastity rested.
My roots are parasites that eat up its own herb and ****,
my roots are rat snakes that eat up its own tissue and meat.
My roots are flames of fire that created and watered the plant of Sati,
my roots are pools of blood and long ropes that drowned and hanged LaxmiBai and Moolmati.
My roots are the dish misogyny flavoured with patriarchy,
my roots are naked streams of Ganga washing off their lynching and anarchy.
My roots are all the poison Shiva drank during the churning of the sea,
my roots are Dhritrashtra's aspirations and ambiguity.
My roots are its own herbivore,
my roots are the lava that burns its own floor.
And my roots are my flesh and bone,
so I am stitched to my roots altogether, all alone.
So as I cut my own roots, my roots chop me,
hence I stick to my roots while my roots remain free.
I am unknown, still alone.
Experiencing on my own.

No witnesses to validate
My involvement or the weight
Of the choices i've made
Trying to liberate my spirits
With my patterned habits
Only to understand
That i am digging my end
With my crooked tangled hands

But still

My fears and
feelings they tend to vary
And my mind keep changing its mind.

So now i just smile and carry on
Leaving all my worries behind

No one likes to deal with the the unknown
Someone must be manifesting
Because i can't explain my preferences
Disowned , unresting
I have to believe an omniscent is guiding me
So i can truly rest in peace
I don't believe in responsibilities.

Writing is the only way to fruit this fear.

Words Of Harfouchism
What you think matters
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