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Crego 21h
Bleed my mind out
Onto paper again
It’s in a cage
I’m full of rage
Things can’t be the same.
**** a phase, this is a chapter
Turn the page, streets in flames
Things can’t be the same.
I feel the pain when I see their eyes
And I can **** near taste it
They wanna rewrite history
But the noise too loud
So they can’t erase it
Things can’t be the same
Light it
Gone
22:16
I stared at the white ocean for days.
An empty canvas, plotting my escape.
It seemed to lure me into uncomfortable depths.
I'm not shallow, but I do find myself staring in the mirror.
Is it vain of me to appreciate my reflection?
I'm begging to know, and yes the ink makes me see myself clearer.
I paused as my thoughts began to implode.
I slowly realized I'm still sinking.
Instead of fighting for air, I'd rather enjoy this episode.
What was I thinking?
I knew the ending would be anticlimactic.
18 times in 11 lines is proof of a narcissist.
Perfectly planned perfectionists and sly schematics.
A new series, a likable protagonist dying. What will happen next time on Dragon Ball... sorry if you don't get it.
Rebeca May 12
Como te sientes
Cuando no me hablas

O que te sientes
Cuando me ignoras

Te extraño
Y no puedo negarlo

Te quiero a mi lado
Pero no puedo leer tus señales

Solo lloro y lloro
Ni se si das cuenta

No se si me escuchas
Pero sigo y sigo

Por favor, mi amor
Ven y abrázame

Tu eres todo para mi
No te alejes, por favor

Triste, soy yo
Llorando, yo se

Pero pensando en ti
No puedo parar

Hazme el favor
Y dime que me quieres
Y que me amas todavia
Y de pronto

Pero si no
Aqui te espero
Amándote de lejos
Y para siempre
Axxsh May 11
galactic eruption
interrupts a stroll down the memory lane
linear meta brain
meticulously performing the act of
self restraint
selfless worships
now, lesser in terms of quantitative hints
the never ending path
that circumvents the colourless
conscience
it contravenes the limitless scenes of a liberating regime
trust plummets into the hands of perceptive fiends
taken in
taken instead of countless numbered pills
a train of exaggerated kin
tracks back to those with highly assumed authorities
amidst the group of avid anti-socials
vividly varied in opinions
from a sword to a pin
essentially assembled to speak against the ancient ones
a neoteric synchronization
scaling screaming lexemes
the scathed silk screeches
soaked in acid  
flamed till the ashes can be smelled
but never seen
seemingly insignificant statements
covert and pristine
so in this lockdown perdiod....i've got a lot of time to brood...a lot of time to think about where i', headed....well that's the glass-half-full version of it...
i somehow induced a writer's block ....which is quite weird because i dont really consider myself as a proper writer...im just here to rant...i guess i am even having a difficulty in finding the right words to say...it's a chaos ...it's like a swarm of at least a million words soar through my mind when im about to put my chords to the work....i guess i'll write my way through it.
Did i truly loved you?
Or not for I was forcing my burdens on you?
Did I saw you as my one?
Or did I saw you as the one?
As a victim whom I can pass my burdens on,
So that I can feel lighter?
As time goes on,
Did I really fell for you?
Or did I fell for the reason I have set standards on you?
Am I just proclaiming this is love that I have felt for you?
Or is this really love trying to convinvce me over?
Was I just confused?
With love and infatuation?
Is this really love?
Or am I just setting my standards on you?
If this is really love,
Why did I expected more from you?
When I say I already have accepted you as a whole?
Did I really accepted you?
Or did I just disregard those ugly facts and looked where I just wanted to?
Was I afraid because I don't want to lose you?
Or is it because if I lose you I'll be losing myself too?
Writen on September 18, 2019 13:38
Rebecca Apr 25
All I wanted was to talk:
to have another acknowledge these events
That tore my life to shreds.

When I did speak,
It was instantly flipped or ignored.
So I said enough, I'm not doing this anymore.

I will not give to those who only take
Or to hear my stories so they can create
A reality which would leave me
The center of their entertainment.

I am not a joke,
Nor is my life at any rate,
A show.

I admit I was clingy, I admit I lost connections
I thought were worthy of pursuing
Because I needed support early in the friendship.

They didn't know
I was in anguish
Or perhaps they didn't care.
Either way,
I was left standing there.

My screams were muted,
My statements unheard.
The help I needed
Was blatantly ignored

I'm now silent
To prevent these losses
Because apparently people
Don't know how to handle these problems
My teacher asks for the theme,
But I don’t know how to answer
I know and I know that
A theme is or is not one word,
A common thing, a binding spell
A theme is or is not an instruction,
Told by the character’s actions,
Shown in carefully crafted consequences.
A theme is or is not a quality,
Something which defines a character,
Which determines the course of the story
It is or is not more than one sentence.
It is or is not subjective to the reader.
It is or is not, so I don’t know the answer.

But I could tell you about the Little Chinese Seamstress
About blind obsession,
About jealousy, about wonder
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
I could tell you about how reading is so personal,
Its effect on one
Can not be understood by another
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or how skill is developed by tragic experience
How learning comes from failing to learn
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or if I told you that the quality of a book
is only as good as its final passage,
If I told you that
a story shouldn’t be told until its last word,
Bound by something so profound,
The book must be reread, reanalyzed
Delving into the intricate mind of the author,
With full control over life and reality,
With the power to make one word thousands,
A detail into a novel,
Anything into anything without writing it down,
Because if you can understand what the author was thinking,
Then the author was not thinking at all
Would that be enough?
Could knowing be enough?

If you asked an author
To name to you one of their themes,
Do you think they’d know the answer?
Do you think they’d care what you mean?

Is it more valuable to the student
To understand or to define?
Is it more telling of the mind
To describe an impact,
Or to save time?
Solange Apr 17
INK
Before  
the world was born
what lay
between the skies?
Did the bridge of
Unknown
cross over  
into the great horizon?

When the first  
blot of ink 
was crafted,
what was the first
of its many creations?

Did it know that
from mere blots,
entire worlds have been spawned?

Did it know
with its spiraling, expanding,
pearly-darkness,
with its natural proneness to accidents,  
the art and knowledge  
it would found?

Be careful not to shake,
or deplete it in wasteful splatters
You should know,
with the ink of a pen
you hold
the very universe
and all its entity
between your fingertips

And between your ears,
the capacity to truly create it all.
Entire worlds…
and even more.
An underappreciated glory.
Hailey Mar 23
Push, pull, push.
Easy with yourself now.

Pull, push, pull.
Come closer, listen, vow.

Through the rocks, and water, and darkness, and light --
And all things uncertain in this strange unknown world
We must push.
We must pull.
We must push.
We must fight.
Sebastian VL Mar 14
Super Saiyan like Goku
Japanese got Nobu
Got things to blow through
Soul searching eat soul food

Lineman said go blue
Know things I know too
Cough down got the flu
'Rona season ye they knew

Hit a lick and they rich now
Kobe shooting bricks now
Make music you call sounds
Shorty go two rounds

Henny Henny on the flip town
Jealousy they talk about
I don't really give a **** now
I just wanna blow it up now

Someone come roll spliffs
6ix God go views this
Air punching got no fists
I just feel so diff

Get rich and go dip
Pinking I go swim
Jelly jelly got no diss
****** like solstice

Don't want to lose connect
Dripping down like a faucet
I just want to be blessed
Late sleep feel too stressed

Situations go reflect
"**** my ex" is a reflex
I just want two things
Big money and respect

East to side to the rex
Play smart got no decks
Aces  up next
Need a queen be the best

Whip around in my X
Flex on my ex
Check time Rolex
Get "I miss you" texts
This poem is a rhythmic work of art that flows to the instrumental of "B.S" by Jhene Aiko Ft. H.E.R. It is a personal poem based on my past gastronomical, athletic, romantic, and impactful experiences. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Have a good day. :)
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