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MuseumofSoph Dec 1
I’m learning to love the parts of myself I used to hate.
I force myself to relive my regrets, to relive my pain.
I see each memory with fresh eyes, softening my gaze so I can not judge.

It still hurts to see what I wish I could reverse
When I couldn’t see past my delusions
I hurt so many people that I loved

I can not undo what had to be done
Fate wanted my heart to go on a journey.

I am thankful for the heartache, the loss
it taught me to accept my whole self

I had to first become who I am not
To find who I am.
Kassan Jahmal Nov 26
growing pains
—these deep roots of hurt
cut off the past, water the present
and let the future grow

     is all about growth
MuseumofSoph Nov 9
I used to wish to stop the world with one look,
to make my mark.

Now I just want to curl up with a good book.
Marla R Nov 8
Feeling old as I see my youth slip away in the mirror, having lost all of my friends
through some venture into the ether.

Fighting to keep up while struggling against time, bills & notices piling up as the clever fox starts to fall more behind.

Seeking answers through ancient revelations that seem to no longer apply, yet feeling as though moving forward is still some sort of a crime.

Gazing outwards into the world in an attempt to understand what’s within,
deciphering old feelings that refuse to stop wearing me thin.

Every step taken pushes me further into the unknown, following my heart towards a future where the sun’s light is one with my own.

Visions of times not yet reached glimmer in my daydreams, a hopeful contrast to a hectic world steadily unraveling at the seams.
Skies shining indigo & orange unto people from all walks of life who’ve come together for the common cause that is shifting darkness into light.
em Nov 8
i will write poetry for myself
admiring all the imperfections
just like people do with art
Juhlhaus Nov 2
I take the same and different ways
returning to these streets I thought I knew.
Scent memories come in warm layers,
comforting until they cling, and I think
too long about the shadows
stretching behind, before
the city lights became so familiar, but
clarity depends on distance, on when
in motion the lines converge
and the shapes fade to almost nothing,
only to merge and re-emerge
with each step forward, back to you.
neth jones Oct 26
plough tills the plot
overturns one season
for one of greater potential profit
When I was younger I'll always start my poem with the usual cliché
"Roses are red,  violets are blue. I am not good with words but know I love you."

When I grew older , I started with something like this
"I want you in my forever
I have never been this happy about tommorow."

A little bit after that, maybe three years later, it turned to this
"I'm never falling in love again
Twice bitten
If there's a third time. Call me a fool"

But, now....
I guess I'm older and wiser and I've learnt to move one. I'll start with,
"Thank you for stopping by. I'd cherish the memories we made "
It's been a long time........
A pulsating longevity awaits in the longing hours.
A sulphurous coverlet crawls up to my neck.
It’s dark at the windows; it claws at my throat.
Someone, come save me – I can’t breathe; I can’t cope.

The layers peel back, constellations on show –
I sit with this pain while it grabs its dark coat
On closer perusal, a face lingers close
Broken, ugly, no joy does it show

It takes my limp hand in a gentle caress – calloused, hardened, its gaze set on my chest

“Dear girl”, it does say, as the tears linger close, “your being in this world hasn’t quite found its home”
I grasp at this hand I don’t quite understand – it coaxes me forward in a promising demand.

“Make friends with this darkness – feel how it chokes. It has a message to share underneath its black cloak”

Trepid, shaken, I follow its lead
The cracks shatter open and all is revealed.
Seek inside and the answer there lies.
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