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Ijla 8h
I hope someday
when you look back,
instead of regretting
the things you've left behind,
you'll be able to see
just how far you've come.
- Acknowledge your growth -
i'm travelling
to a further place
a hole in the ground
for those unreaching

i'm drifting
and slowly diving
into a deep space
of heavy rain

i'm walking
into consciousness
beyond the mountain
beyond the plain

into a lifeline
i cannot contain

i can't see
i can't breathe
the same way anymore
Stu 10h
Tears grow heavy as you watch all that you once were begin to rust away.
You do not feel sadness,
but nostalgia,
as clouds containing past lives and past loves circle the space around your head,
Screaming in your ears.
However, you know that becoming a new bundle of energy and knowledge is a great expedition you must embark on by your lonesome, without distraction of any sort.

Those dust-covered shoes struggle to comply at first,
But without any other hesitation,
you set off towards a door that has now made itself known.
With a hand pushing through,
you turn to look at the carcass of twisted memories and,
not knowing if this is directed towards yourself or maybe something bigger than that,
you ask aloud,
"please, tell me before I go, who was this one? This time around, who was I?"
Haylin 15h
This time it's not the sadness that's keeping me awake at night
But it's the responsibility I have to face in the morning
Remaining the same in all cases;
consistent; steady
One day
There lived a man
Who knew, he knows nothing

In the age of populatity
Growth in humanity
Everyone knew almost everything

But no one knew more
Than the man who knows
JDL 22h
Hundreds of years gone
With a few swings of an axe
Amber tears, so long...
So many ancient trees are lost each year. May this poem serves as both a memorial and a dedication to what has been lost.
JDL 22h
Forest sentinel,
Feet of roots,
Fingers of shoots
Hands of stems,
Arms of limbs
Skin of bark,
Flesh of starch
Beard of moss,
Nothing of dross
Blood of sap,
***** of snap
And that was that...
So many ancient trees are lost each year. May this poem serves as both a memorial and a dedication to what has been lost.
Regan 1d
they couldn’t see past my smiles.
my hurt was invisible to them.
they didn’t see the blood drip on the tiles.
my wrists burning from the blades.

they saw a happy face,
but didn’t know my pain.
I would find myself pace,
with a gun rested on my lips.

they never heard my cries
or how i would scream for help
i was ready to die,
but you never noticed.

they were oblivious to my troubles
so i’m more dependent on myself.
even if the signs weren’t subtle,
i’ve moved on from my struggles.
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