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silvervi Oct 2024
Meditation, meditation
Meant to be healthy vibration,
Diving deep into the now
Losing every form somehow.

Feeling guilty
I neglected
My long meditations.

Feeling overwhelmed
Many tasks
In my head.

I am now avoiding
My own self-
Confronting.

Wanting peace
Still.
To know how I feel.

I am myself but
Ugly.
And maybe that's
Why I feel sick.

Sick of playing some role
To everyone around me.

"You're so beautiful, nice."
"You're an angel", they say.

But they don't know that I
Struggle every day.

I should be so grateful
For my physical health.
So thanks.

But I am disappointed
By having panic attacks.

Breathing gets very shallow,
Sometimes I lose control,
In my mind many thoughts,
I feel lost and alone.

Hundreds pieces
Are called Me.
But who manages it all?

Sometimes I want to hide
In a warm dark safe place
Where nobody sees me
And I don't need to be
Anyone.

I don't need to play
Any role.

I can call this place
My home.

I can feel whole
On my own.

Where I hold myself
When I am worried.

And I tell myself
Different stories.

Where I truly believe
In love.

Where I feel
As though I was enough.
Finding my way back into meditation. My center can provide me with this warmth that I am seeking. But of course we also need other people around and to be authentic with them.
Jeremy Betts Sep 2024
Living is dying
That's why it's so painful
Loving and hurting
They say to be grateful
Remembering to be forgiving
I'm so very forgetful
Beginning and continuing
Both have been my downfall

©2024
Saanvi Sep 2024
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
when midnight strikes,
And the colors on the clock change.
The firecrackers make noise,
And the world transitions
From one year to the next.
I wonder why nostalgia engulfs
the chaos of my winds
When time passes away slowly
On New Year's Eve.
I wonder how I could ever
Say gracias
To all those people who
Taught me, hugged me and
gave me the strength to live and love,
For my family and friends I am grateful.
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
When midnight strikes.
In this ever-present grief of how
Time passes away so quickly,
I reside, I reside.
I wonder why red fades
And green blossoms.
It is the way of life.
I wrote this poem as an ode to 31st December
Bekah Halle Aug 2024
simple delights: warm air carrying buzzing bees,
pollinating big trees, bringing me to my knees,
alive and grateful; yes, please!
We Are Stories Apr 2024
a slab-less crazing-
mixture of papier-mâché;
conformation of made-less things-
quagmire bracing to break;
lonesome drought-
steer clear of my thirst;
vacuum sealed lungs-
anguish waiting to burst;
-
purified water:
landfilled with kimberlites;
there are spotless skies
reflecting off sunspotted eyes;
purified water:
a laborer letting go;
callouses like dandruff drift-
like welcoming snow
-
a son lost comes home
skies filled - no longer alone;
dead rise again
healed, hopeful, looking
at
him.
Josie Mar 2024
Thankful for you
More than you know
The telepathy runs deep
It's certainly a mystery
Never to be understood
Just let it be
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