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I wonder how I would've turned out
if I lived a different life
one without childhood trauma
and mental illness
one without severe anxiety
and self-consciousness
would I be happy
and carefree
how would I feel
would I have lots of friends
because I wouldn't be scared to talk to people
would I eat healthy
and not feel guilty when I have a sweet treat
would I be grateful to experience life
I don't know
but I can try to make it a reality now
I can't change what I went through then
but I can change what I'll do now
and in the future
Aaron Beedle Mar 19
As days age and sink beneath the Earth,
my friend he walks with confidence in his work.
And we work together, worlds apart,
a mind of methods and honest hearts.
Stood as frame to scenes of wonder
and together we'd press through rain and thunder,
the will of gods and wrath of planets
and together we form constructive habits.

Witness of a world asunder,
and under the impression that there is more to be done
we have fun, on the run from the eyes and the engines
that pursue the constant contention, driven
by the sad ambitions of those around us,
but our friendship will ground us, from mountain to river.
And a unique brand of faith shall deliver
the voice that is still worth hearing,
as the time of rest is nearing,
I hope we can work together on our many optimistic feelings.
About: A friend.
Who am I? Which of me is real? The man I was, the man I am, or the man I will be?
Perhaps none. Perhaps all.
Or perhaps I am only a shadow, stretched thin between them,
never truly existing at all.

The past—ah, the past! How foolish he was!
He thought he understood life, believed in things—love, hope, meaning.
He was naïve, reckless in his convictions, blind in his desires.
He did not yet know what it means to kneel before regret,
to feel the slow, merciless tightening of time around his throat.
I hate him for his arrogance, and yet—I pity him.
For he never knew the weight that awaited him in the years to come.

And my future self—what a stranger.
Does he pity me, or does he curse me?
He waits somewhere ahead, silent, watching,
knowing already what I will choose,
what I will lose, whom I will betray.
I cannot see him, but he is there,
a judge I can never escape.

And then, there is me—the wretched creature caught between them.
I am neither innocent like my past nor wise like my future.
I am only the sum of mistakes not yet forgiven,
of choices not yet made,
of a life that unfolds with or without my consent.

Tell me, if they met—past, present, and future—
would they recognize each other at all?
Or would they simply turn away,
each ashamed of what the other has become?
Michael Mar 15
Where were you
when our democracy died?
I was watching cartoons,
with my child by my side.
Ambiguously aware
of our dangerous slide,
as trusted family and friends
say it’s all in my mind.
Safe, for now, in my skin
amongst my “own kind,”
until the day comes,
we are asked to align…
Will we then remember the day
our democracy died?
Dianali Mar 15
Walking past a building
Being built,
As I type this.
I wonder—
Is some core memory
There,
Waiting for me?
Zywa Mar 12
Omens are not real,

if you just look carefully –


from where you're looking.
Comic strip #89 - "Heer Bommel en De Hachelbouten" ("Sir Bumble and The Chow Craps", 1960, Marten Toonder)

Collection "**** & Lord"
Maryann I Mar 12
The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
The fires will spread beneath the skies,
The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
And swallow what’s left of our goodbyes.

The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
The hunger roams the crowded streets,
The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
And scatter all we thought was sweet.

The air is thick, the forests burn,
The soil will crack and never turn,
The air is thick, the forests burn,
And no one’s left to mourn or learn.

The leaders fight, the nations break,
The lies they spread, the lives they take,
The leaders fight, the nations break,
And no one cares for freedom’s sake.

The waves will crash, the crops will die,
The children’s cries are lost in the sky,
The waves will crash, the crops will die,
And no one asks the reasons why.

The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
The streets will echo with the chill,
The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
And hope will vanish, stark and still.

The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
The cities crumble, one and all,
The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
And no one hears the final call.

The news will spin, the lies will spread,
The digital wars will fill with dread,
The news will spin, the lies will spread,
And truth is lost, our minds misled.

The voices scream, the tears will flow,
As we unravel, slow and low,
The voices scream, the tears will flow,
And the world ends with no one to know.

The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
The tyrants rise, we fall to gaze,
The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
As borders close and hope decays.

The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
The genocides, they never turn,
The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
As refugees with nowhere yearn.

The lies are loud, the truths erased,
The leaders’ words, a hollow face,
The lies are loud, the truths erased,
As corruption eats at every place.

The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
The polar ice will never track,
The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
And ecosystems fall off track.

The forests die, the insects fade,
The rivers dry, no hope is laid,
The forests die, the insects fade,
And nature’s toll is fully paid.

The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
The homeless roam with vacant eyes,
The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
As wealth divides beneath the lies.

The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
The markets crash, the ships turn pale,
The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
And hunger spreads beneath the wail.

The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
The bloodied cries, the youth are worn,
The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
And hatred thrives where love was sworn.

The children starve, the women weep,
The suffering’s vast, too deep to keep,
The children starve, the women weep,
As death is sold and souls to reap.

The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
The mind’s enslaved, the soul misplaced,
The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
And privacy’s a stolen grace.

The codes will break, the AI reigns,
The jobs are lost, the fear remains,
The codes will break, the AI reigns,
And human hands are bound in chains.

The idols rise, the people fall,
The souls are lost in empty thrall,
The idols rise, the people fall,
As substance dies and skins appall.

The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
The stories fade, the truths are sold,
The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
And vanity is bought, not gold.

The churches burn, the temples fall,
The faith is lost, no prayer to call,
The churches burn, the temples fall,
As lies are sold beneath the pall.

The cults arise, the masses sway,
And faith is twisted, led astray,
The cults arise, the masses sway,
As reason fades and faith decays.

The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
The bodies fall, the doctor dreads,
The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
And medicine’s a ghost instead.

The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
The cures are gone, the doctors’ muster,
The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
As life is snatched by every bluster.

The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
The hopelessness, an endless hill,
The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
And time slips past against our will.

The fear will grow, the shadows long,
The meaning lost, the world is wrong,
The fear will grow, the shadows long,
And we are left to weep our song.
This poem was created to express my worries for the world and the overwhelming challenges we face. From political unrest to environmental destruction, economic instability, and social decay, it reflects how everything seems to be falling apart. The repetition in the poem displays the weight of these crises, expressing the urgency and discomfort I feel as I watch the world change in unsettling ways. It’s a reminder of how deeply interconnected these issues are, and how they are leading us toward an uncertain, frightening future.
It’s been a long time since I touched pen to paper,
Lost in the rhythm of endless, mediocre days,
Each tomorrow arriving void of hope or wish,
A quiet drift through time’s indifferent haze.

I have known joy, but never at its peak,
Felt sorrow, yet never plunged into the abyss.
I have wondered what I’ve missed,
Haunted by scars left by malice and neglect,
Each mark a whisper of what once was.

Chasing highs, avoiding lows,
I ran so far ahead, I left myself behind.
Did I do so unknowingly, or what I thought of my worth that led my steps astray?
I sought love in fleeting moments,
Connection in safety, sameness, the unknown—
A restless wanderer grasping at ghosts.

Trapped in the solitude of my own mind,
I called it freedom, mistook it for strength,
Blissfully unaware of how unhappy I was—
A prisoner who had long forgotten the cage.
Yet without purpose, I finally found myself.
I found strength through impotence,
peace through turmoil,
and abundance in desolation.
Safana Mar 11
In a future bright, where dreams take flight,
Elon Musk, a beam light.
From rockets high to electric cars,
He reaches for the distant stars.

With vision bold, he leads the way,
A president for a new day.
Innovation in his stride,
A leader with the world as his guide.

From Mars to Earth, his influence grows,
In every challenge, he boldly goes.
A mind so sharp, a heart so true,
Elon Musk, the future’s view.

In the halls of power, he stands tall,
A visionary answering the call.
With every step, he paves the path,
For a world that’s free from wrath.

Elon Musk, a name so grand,
A president to lead the land.
With dreams that soar and hopes that rise,
He guides us to the endless skies.

My prediction will be revealed in the United States of America.
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