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Singata Sep 8
I know being apart is what's best for us both,
but the selfish heart makes both of us think that there's hope.

I know there are many ways to cope,
but the selfish mind directs me to the nearest of ropes.

I know trying to love is like racing up slippery, steep slopes
But the selfish soul still craves forbidden fires even where there's no smoke.

I know...
...everything and nothing at the same time, a prisoner in my own body...
AuEcologica Aug 17
Work the bread and the butter to the bone,
Let it penetrate your pores,
Become your very blood,
A part of your soul,
Emerge a hero of your own.

Because if you’re not then who?
Who, who will be your own?

A true part of your heart.

Work the bread and butter to the bone,
Be the magic you speak of so,
Have it become your flesh and core,
The vital part of your all,
Emerge victorious on your own.

Because if you’re not then who?
Who, who will be your own but you,
Who will be the fuel but you,
Who will have the power but you?

Don’t lie to the single being who is a must for you to have a life,
for you to have it all,
Emerge a…
Emerge vic..
Emerge a…
Emerge vic…

You know thyself too well to lie.
Mercy Aug 10
The waves welling
Up my throat
My stomach full with doubt
Constipating despair
Irritated by questions
As my brain can't comply
My reasoning sick
And the rhetorics
Driving me crazy on what
Is the real deal here.

Who am I?
Why me?
Why all the struggle?
Then purpose drops
But the questions still
Remains unanswered
Bewildered at how people
Push through suchlike
And why?

You know yesterday
I actually found a card
He once sent me
Then reading I discovered,
He saw that coming
Us breaking up
"We may not be making each other aware of our feelings often, but the love we share, is beyond the day to day expressing...
Its a feeling that our hearts have taken for granted forever."

Am not sure what I
Feel anymore
Should it be joy
That he hoped that even though now
We might part ways
That later we will reunite
Or he saw that even though
Our love was true
It was forbidden and
The only way out to
Protect both our hearts
Was to break the bond and heart
To nurse it all our lives.

Its hard to keep breaking
Through when all I can do
Is try keep up!!!
This breakup sure is contradicting to everything I believe in.
Mercy Jul 1
Every time i tuck
My lazarus body
Under the quilt
And put the lights off
You get nigh in
Every dillusion
**** i wish
I could turn back time.
Too bad we just
Water under the bridge.
The impact of an old lover is hard to comprehend.
Jack Jun 14
a cry for help takes effort
lungs inflating over time
courage paced

whispers at first
feeling like a waste of space

I reached the point of screaming
into loved ones ears
they didn’t hear
You are not alone. Keep screaming.
Erica Girone May 15
I’m sorry I can’t take away your pain
I’m sorry I don’t understand
I know it’s rough and you can’t explain
I just wish I could lend a hand
It tears me apart to watch you cry
And not know the right words to say
I know some days you just want to die
But pretend you’re completely okay
I want you to know you’re loved beyond measure
And you brighten each and every one of my days
You make life worth living and so much better
I just wish you saw it that way
Lyinix May 1
I started to tell the lie that shes fine and that shes okay
She's a little bit sick that's why she looks so down today.
But she's not fine and this feeling wont go away
That aching feeling that makes her chest drown in its own blood
That little spark of hope washed away within the flood
Her grounds were shaking yet I still lied
Her soul was crumbling every part of her died
But she tries her hardest to laugh and joke
I was just there to make sure on her lies she didnt choke
I just wish there was something I could have done to make it alright
But I left her stranded on her battle field losing her own fight
She didn't break down until she was alone in her room that night
She scratched at her wrist wishing it would be the last
The last time that she remembered her old haunting past
She felt sleepy so she slept not thinking it would be her last
She died right there she died alone drowning in her past.

Kuba Feb 22
I feel like a bird in a cage,
My hands are ******* to the wheel.
The wheel of torment.
My dream is hidden deep
in a depth of prison.
I’m so helpless, so lost…
Lost between pages of book,
Written by evanescence.
Aneesh H Jan 31
As the eastward Monsoon winds blow
Dark clouds hover above
The summer sunshine fading
Dawn and dusk now look alike -
In the same nightly hue.

Inside, my insides echo a nasty white noise
Of the rain birds' incessant caws

Lightning flashing, illuminating some
Darkest corners - wh're I haven't ventured yet
A rapturous thunder, in shocked wonder
I break into a silent sweat
As the pregnant cloud precipitates
My frozen heart aches - in shades myriad
- An unwilling contrast against the crystal clear vapour of a cloud
surrendering itself as the monsoon rain!

The heard wrenches - in agony
With each thawing drop of rain
Of a lost hope and frozen wish
A facade of happiness, I feign.
I had written this poem about 2 years ago, when I was immobilized and confined to my house, thanks to a fractured foot. I was depressed, and unable to share my thoughts plainly with anyone. This was the time of (ironically) the inspiration to this poem.

It is surprising, that not joyous feelings, but sadness brings us close to art (poetry). It is said that the great Sage Valmiki, author of the epic 'Ramayana' was inspired when he saw a 'Krouncha' bird die, being hit by the arrow of a hunter, when it was engaged with its companion. From out of sorrow, the first verse was born.

Tough times of our life, make us introspect. The profundity of experience is higher in grief, than in joy. Tough times, have lessons to teach us, to make us learn to accept that all is not fair in life, and move on.
Chandra S Jan 28
Another dull winter day painfully crawls away
       into garden-variety biography
          just a run-of-the-mill résumé
          filled with antecedents whilom
          and to top it up
          a corrosive impostor syndrome.

I lie quietly in the flickering, yellow light
of a jaundice-stricken forty-watt bulb
trying to think about something superb
which would somehow improve
the way things do (or do not) move
in my achromatic life.

Nothing worthwhile emerges.

Only some vague urges act out
from their stingy hideouts.

The clock pushes the evening further
into the dry, arid chill of the night so still.
I sigh and switch off my ghost-like
sleepy, vapid eyes
into the ancient time-line
of a vast, un-bridged solitude
in my quarantined, immotile life.

© Chandra S., 1995
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