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when you found me, I was shattered inside and out
you slowly filled my cracks with your sunshine
until I was radiating light everywhere I went
but then I started shining too bright
so bright that I outshined you
and you didn't like that
so then you began dulling my light
exposing the cracks once more
until there was nothing left of my foundation
and I crumbled like never before
my happiness and shine turned into ashes
and you left me just as you found me, shattered
Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
My experience is sad,
And so are your eyes
A spirit is evil,
And so is your smile.
don't you leave
stay for awhile.
pain
Leo Dec 3
No more screaming, no more voices
In the empty land of wasted stories.
A place of madness and lost faith
But look at it the right way
And it’s astonishingly great.

A null tricky game, planned, well played,
You’d better keep watching before it vanishes anyway.
But perhaps it’s too late, in this blurry night
Maybe too early to see the bright light.

Just a second of hope, a last broken prayer
To remind you in this game, you were a good player.
Cause there are no winners
No losers, no glory
In the not too far land of wasted stories.
Francesca Nov 27
Blue skies are optimistic,
even when days are cold

Grey skies are oppressive;
they weigh heavy on the soul.
I’m not a big fan of winter.
Donna Nov 27
Today the clouds met
For a long boring meeting
So I stayed indoors
Relaxing day indoors pottering about been nice x
Ankita Gupta Nov 10
You are the rainbow, living in disguise
In shades of grey, between black and white.

When you shine through me,
It disperses all colors of you,
Like I am the prism waiting for you.

You see, not all can see
How pretty you are from within,
And all I do is stand amazed
By colors of you in all shades but grey.
Asante' Nov 8
Somewhere there are stars
Even when they're out of sight.
They are shining in the Heavens
Making radiating light.
So even when it's cloudy
Or the world is feeling grey,
Remember somewhere there are stars
That can brighten up your day.
I  look In a mirror
what do I see looking
back, reflection but
I'm old now can't
remember the last
I took a good hard
look at me but
what I see now
I'm unrecognisable
Where now that
the young man who
played about with
his hair more like
girl with bad hair
day, hair I dont have
anymore "Oh for the
joys of getting
old
The joys of growing old look in a mirror
what you see looking back you don't like
anymore
rozina Nov 5
Nothing to see, nothing to do,
nothing to look forward to.

Observing others living life to their fullest,
and feeling as though you're the dullest.
The things you used to enjoy
slowly become a distant memory,
and you don't know how.

Existing slowly begins to feel a chore.

Wake up, go to work, stare at a screen,
go home, stare at yet another screen,
sleep, repeat.

Everything slowly begins to lose its
colour, as the world as you see it
slowly turns to shades of grey and
muted tones.

You don't feel yourself anymore,
the things you used to love become a chore,
to do them with love and passion again
suddenly feels like folklore,
where in the days of yore,
they didn't seem to be a chore.
Now they do,
and you don't know how to
make them not feel like they're a chore.
You slowly begin to lack emotion and
begin to wonder
if there even is any point in doing
anything anymore.

Contemplating the reasons for existence
becomes your most favourite past time.

Slowly, but surely, the pieces come
together, like coincidences, and the
realisation hits.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time, though for most, this isn't
always the case.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time and being ignored,
so you speak up even if you're shy,
not wanting to cry,
of living a life so dull and dry.

You slowly incline your head,
trying to resist the temptation of going to bed,
wishing you were dead.

You doodle during that extremely
boring meeting,
not caring if anyone bothers to judge
those silly little doodles.
You do them again,
out of habit,
slowly gaining your mojo and **** for life
back.

The upbeat songs come back,
so do the memories.

You embrace those,
and you don't let any old grump stop you,
because they should embrace them too.

Emotion is injected back into you again,
you tap your pen in quick succession,
to keep up with the rhythm of the song.

You gain a sense of flow,
you gradually begin to know that things
will turn out okay again.

Not immediately, but sooner or later.
You're no longer a dull hater,
life has just gotten one inch greater.

You don't think about heading to bed,
wishing you were dead,
because life seemed a dread.

You incline your head,
and observe your surroundings with
fresh eyes,
not uncontrollable silent cries!

You get the swing of things again.

The things you used to love are no longer
a chore,
the days of yore
where all that was just folklore,
was actually just folklore;
it's no longer a chore.

The emptiness is replaced with emotion,
the absurd sense of humour creeps back in.

Boom, you're your normal self again,
although you don't know what normal
actually is.
You no longer have a care in the world
about this normal that they all speak of.
For feeling empty
can just make you be another
faceless citizen,
blending in
with the rest.

You don't want that, do you?

You aspire to be the best,
with the feeling of being blessed,
and turning up in your best dressed,
without feeling the judgement at its best,
the anxiety goes to rest,
and you're at your best.

You skip happily,
while others walk with a blank expression.
You're the injection of colour
into the grey and glum world.
Others scorn at you for being different,
you happily embrace the fact
that you're that way.

Instead of wishing you were in bed,
thinking you'd rather be dead,
because life seems a dread,
you're ahead,
using your own head
whilst others are unknowingly spoon fed.

You're no longer a miserable person,
but one who stands out,
beaming,
others internally screaming,
hoping to convince others to do the same,
whilst trying to stay relatively sane
to avoid unwanted fame,
or worse, fearing the cane,
whilst also trying to stay in your lane
to avoid the blame
over something pretty lame,
like setting your old rickety computer up in flames,
because you felt like it
and didn't care one little bit.
It's not the shortest poem in the world, so brace yourself.
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