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Lucy Devine Dec 2024
I am stuck
in a rutt
the identity
which no longer feels like me.

She doesn’t clean
is hardly ever seen
making a healthy choice,
so when she does they rejoice

clap and cheer
supposedly sincere.
She knows they care,
but it’s because of that she doesn’t dare

change her ways
in all of her days.
so here she sits
digging herself a deeper pit,

of low expectation
low appreciation
no admiration
just pure desperation,

to get out
so she can shout
‘I’m free
and there’s no one here to see!’

A place of her own,
a carefully curated home
where there is every chance
of a little spontaneous dance,

or kitchen karaoke
okidokiartichokie.
Anything goes
an endless prose

of dreams,
finally redeemed.
Tidy places
and new friendly faces

which have no clue
'cos they’re new
and there’s no one here to skew,
the way in which they view

the life she created
and now holds sacred.
The food she eats,
the place she choses to sleep.

She is kind
and likes to find
hidden spots to go
and let the ink flow.

And she can share
her work with care
because she doesn’t have to care
who is going to care.

If they think
she is starting to sink,
or not doing enough
behind the endless bluff

then go
you're not someone she has to know.
Nobody new
will turn her blue.

That doesn't mean the people she knew
turned her blue.
She put herself in that box,
but then forgot

how she got in,
as under her grin
she started to grow.
Beyond what she could show.

So go,
somewhere unknown.
Be new and sparkly,
find someone to kindly

sparkle with you,
and never allow the gloom
anywhere near
wherever you steer

together.
Find a new forever
that is not set in stone
and will allow us to grow.

Never get stuck
in a rutt,
the identity
is now forever free
dead poet Dec 2024
i shudder to heed the animal i’ve become:
once a wolf untamed -
now a lost puppy, squealing for his mum.

a saintly pelican, i thought meself back in the day,
with a bill so big as my heart would weigh;  
now, but a vulture feeding on the remains
of unfortunate cows: with a crooked bill, i prey.

a scorpion’s sting could go in vain
on skin like a crocodile’s - that’s proof of pain.  
a chicken on the run?... or the bloodhound that caught her?  
nah - more like a pig for slaughter.

a rattlesnake in hiding with its venom depleted,
i long to emerge a phoenix: find my mission, then complete it.
purge meself of the twisted worm:
eat it - like a songbird, mistreated.

a lion on the prowl, i show no remorse.
i sail like a shark that's long been defeated.  
anyway - i should get off my high horse;
the parasite’s more... deep-seated.
firstdraftfolder Dec 2024
i've yet to break out of my shell
i've yet to know who i am
i've yet to find a purpose

yet i've died a million times
rebirthed into a vacuous cocoon
wrapped, trapped, in restraints

i've yet to break
i've yet to live
i've yet to love

yet you have lost me too many times
you've yet to know me
you've yet to love me

you've yet to accept me
yet you say you love me,
trapped
but i've yet to find my own strength
and once i do -
i will break out
i will live
i will love
i will be.
Unpolished Ink Dec 2024
They cut out the face of girl that was me,
and filled up the space where I used to be
Ejiro Dec 2024
I fear to be seen as the person next to me
to act and present myself how society wants me to be seen
never being different in my own way
but I also fear to be the odd one out
to be treated for the way I express myself
becoming singled out from the population as a whole
it's quite interesting when you think about it
wanting to be different
but to also want to blend in with the crowd
so, every day I change myself
switching my persona in a quick flash
just so I can't let this odd fear of mine
to swallow me alive just so I can spit it out
leaving an uncanny taste sizzling in my mouth
dead poet Dec 2024
if i couldn’t - feel - for a day,
i wonder -
how i’d feel about it the next day;
to not have a memory i can name;
to come out the other side,
to realize -
the story’s still the same.

what would i even call such a day?
i guess - it’d still be a regular day...
for others to see me -
like, they’ve always seen me
under the sun.
just for a day,
put my soul out of the equation.    

i wonder where i’d even start,
with my mind, and my tongue -
both poles apart.
no self-esteem to feed,
nor the regrets -
to fight about.
****!
what would i even write about...?
Ayla Grey Dec 2024
Outside is Gray
Like my name
Lovely and broken
Misty and forgotten

Outside is Gray
Not spelled the same
Still hated in happiness
But loved in sorrow
Cassandra Dec 2024
I locked the door myself today,
The house was left alone.
I flipped all the switches
Folded the dresses and pants
The lights were turned off,
And off I went.

I stepped in the dingy elevator
Two posters on either side of the wall
There was an old man beside me
We both pressed zero.
in a minute I was on the ground floor.

In one hand I had my phone
The other held a glass bottle shiny
I waltzed to the near by station,
Slow paced, my eyes curious wide open

I looked at the people I passed,
I heard a thud and a terrifying crash
I prayed for everyone’s safety
The sun shined kindly
And gently I reached my destination
at last

It was different because I locked the door
By myself today, no one in the house.
I walked more responsibly
I smiled light frequently
I saw a dog leap
As I saw the cat pounce
I locked the door by myself today
I did not play any music,
I felt like the owner of the house

It was but brick and tar with beds inside
In my pocket I put the keys
If I had a pet I would wash it for fleece
If I had a kid, I would take them with me
If I had a lover, I would kiss them in their sleep
But today, it was just the house and me
I locked the door by myself today
And I stepped in to build a life for me.
I was set free.
Freedom!
I scream for it,
a desperate cry against the expectations that binds me.
I’m suffocated by the facade of relationships,
the hollow cackle of deceitful souls.

I am enraged!
Fuming at the system that seeks to define me,
at the degradation that clings to my skin
like an unwanted shadow,
a constant reminder of my insignificance.

I’m weary of pursuing aspirations
that crumble to dust in my grasp,
unattainable visions that lead me
to the edge of despair.
I yearn to exist without ambition,
to dissolve into a crowd
where my identity vanishes,
where I’m a specter,
unseen, unrecognized,
lost in a realm that remains indifferent.

I long to flee this cursed present,
to leap into a tomorrow
that remains a cruel illusion,
where no one acknowledges my presence,
no one cares,
no one trails my footsteps
or feels the pain of my sorrow.

I am drained—
exhausted from the humiliation
that gnaws at my core,
tired of everything I once held dear,
weary from dreaming
only to fall and fall again.

In this furious pursuit of liberation,
I don’t merely wish to vanish;
I seek to obliterate the chains,
to shatter the delusions,
to discover a place where I can breathe,
where I can be whole,
untethered from the past,
and finally reclaim my reality
with a fury that cannot be contained.
This poem is to all those individuals struggling to live their dream due to the expectations of others.
Cassandra Dec 2024
let the lash of the eye fall back into the air,
let the body be weightless.
let the voices die down,
Let the grief be dense.
All the light that once shone,
let it be gone,
Let it all be gone.

Let the words go quiet,
Let the body crumple up.
Let the heart be silent,
Let the organs collapse
Let the mind give up.
Let the breath be soaked
in the weight
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