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Xella Dec 2020
You must pray for the fickle and weak.
As we all need to make it through the heat.
Your whiskey neat burns down the branches of your chest as you speak.
Expand into a balloon, the crowd won’t bow but shake their heads.
They can not believe this tale you live, the life in a comfy castle cove.
The girls back home cry, denying all this fallacy.
A fairytale facade or so it seems.
Really it can not be like this, this isn’t reality.
This can not be like you or me.
We aren’t merely copies, are we?
They cry tears in the shape of rapids that carve rivers down your cheeks.
To take her to the moon will settle, remedy this pain.
So give me a few years and I’ll get you there.
For now pray for the fickle and weak as they aren’t lost, but free.
Changed it a bit.
Traveler Nov 2020
In the views of hindsight
Suffering extends
Should have just let it go
The victim within

Love and wonder
Beyond hope
You gave your all
It’s how we cope

They wither on
And leave you
The ones that once
Held you tight
You are but
The black sheep
In a hierarchical
Traveler Tim

It’s all good
Shake it off
Xella Jan 2020
It's a crying shame
The pursuit of our own wealth lights a flame
That makes greed a game that lets the whole world
As the world turns, the whole world burns
Money was invented for trade
But now those bits of paper twist hearts, make
Turns a saint to a sinner
A child to a killer
His finger on the trigger of a money game
NOT MY OWN WORK. This is a part of a song called Money Game by Ren. I think he and his friends who are making music are very underrated as they speak what needs to be heard.
Creator Sun Sep 2019
A wisp of a breath, a flick of a brush,
The canvas begins to be filled with colour.
A hint of violet, a dab of vermillion,
It seems that she is painting a girlish parlour.

A red drips slowly down her wrist,
As she wipes away at her work.
The foggy glass seems to offer some relief,
Against the cold harsh winter.

The girl stands on her frost-bitten toes
And look upon the scene with wonder.
As the tantalizing warmth appear against her fingers
She can't help but ponder.

Why are some people in the parlour
But others look from the outside in?
For she can't help but question
What is deep within.
This scene is depicting a girl looking into a parlour in the midst of winter. She does not understand why she cannot go in even though she is freezing. The concept of social hierarchy seems like a world away yet she tries her hardest to get a peak of what is going on inside. She had cut herself on some patches of the uneven glass and her lips were turning blue from the frost-bite. I would like to think that this takes place in Russia.
Goblinssi Sep 2018
We socially constructed
By age, by title
A hierarchy

What if we didn't?
What's the alternate
Of family, of community?

Are we wrong?

Can we undo
What was done?

But how?
What it'll be like?

Did we follow biology?
Did we follow culture?

In the hereinafter
Or in eternity
I wish it's better

Life on soil
Ups and downs
It's good still

Life in sky
Or in blackhole
Please be better

Joy or pain
In love or heartbroken
Any other choices?

Boss, chief
Client, customer
Idol, fanboy and fangirl

Why are we here?
What about ranks?
Slaves of time

Can we ever imagine
Everything we are not?

Can we ever become
Anything we are not?

So help me... God.
Jessica Kelly Aug 2016
Down no plains of flowing grass
up no hills of trees that stand
what tips your hat?
where is your flaw?
disillusioned taste
defused for all, mimicked
in the voice of a flower
through hearts of trees, outstretching
complex, limbs hidden
simply facilitated
in common goal, conditioned
used for all;
how do you stand?
quite so tall
in divined obsession
it seems to find all
nurtured and withdrawn
concealed in fixation
no one finds your flaw
for there’s none at all
yet from deception, true love finds all
in this shambled; shrine,
not flawed in design
nurtured from unseen
confronted with existence.
Lindiana Mazari Apr 2017
a system of life
where i shall follow your orders,
your majesty
I'm startled from your cruelty
danger is looming ahead
excuse my charisma
but you should beware
'cause I'm the *SIGMA

the sigma
the knight
who stands up
and fight
the mighty sword
in his hands
standing up
against the King
He's fighting for the good
the sigma is the traditional knight who fights against the evil even if it is his king
Blooming Words Apr 2017
she was so influenced by others
language, character, looks
no one knew who she truly was
or if she could ever be
just her
Pax Mar 2017
Where does hierarchy begin?
    Is it where the strong is on top,
and the weak step upon?

Where does your dignity be placed?
   Is it where your always be the winner,
no matter what, even it has bitter taste.

Is SURVIVAL really that cruel?
That some of us are just a tool,
a fool for the strong to be cool.

No, it can't be that bad
yet reality is quite sad.

Despite our hard beginnings
Life still is beautiful
that losing isn't everything.

Dignity is placed -
where you respect yourself the most
and Hierarchy isn't important
to where your love is...

© Pax
yeH! a new poem, a longer one and it's been long i haven't rhyme like this. a bit hard when you have limited vocab, my apologies for its simplicity and many thanks for reading.
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