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Karma Nov 2024
It’s hard to decipher
What’s real, and what’s fake,
When I spend my time sleeping,
Afraid of the wake.

It’s easy to tell
Of the future that waits,
When deep in my slumber,
My dreams show my fate.

Can’t seem to decide
If love can be felt,
When indifference consumes me,
And hatred just melts.

Can’t tell what I’m feeling.
In patience, I fall.
My logic can fail me
When in conscience, I call.

I feel my voice slipping
When my thoughts become evi,
My desires start dreaming,
And my eyes become heavy.
The world is screaming out.
Can you hear it?
It it's moment of crisis
The world is asking me
Who I am.
I suppose,
I suppose it's time I answer.
Audrey Sep 2024
The name Audrey is
A girl's name of British origin.
"Noble strength."
Its roots entrenched
In the dirt of Western history.

A name is supposed to define you, shape you,
Be the linguistic representation of you.
So shaped have I become in a white girl's name;
I have never tried even to know my own.
Never even given a chance.

How can I be Korean American,
Looking in the mirror,
All I can see is an American girl?
The wrong face and distinctly Asian.
Searching for traces of where "Korean" could be,
I find none.

One soul in the wrong body, in the wrong place, in the wrong name.
Andrew Fukunaga Sep 2024
Your harsh whips upon my skin,
The shackles around my feet,
The cuffs on my hands,
Why must I endure this?
What have I done?
Did I cause this?
Was it my fault,
O’ dear captor,
Please let me go,
I have a life I must live,
Upon my last vowel,
A booming voice echoes,
“Memento mori”
I’m not perfect I know,
But please give me a chance,
Give me a chance to prove myself,
Allow me to tear off this mask at once,
This crimson speckled mask.

Thank you my dear,
You have set me free,
Now let this be upon me,
I will now perform my greatest act,
And pull off this wretched mask,
As I tug and tug,
I am not released,
For years I try,
Why won’t it come off?
Will I ever be free,
The mask is all I know,
It has been with me through thick and thin,
This so-called wretched mask,
Is it me?  
What constitutes my identity?
What features make me,
Me?
It is as though I have never left those chains,
No matter how far I run,
No matter how many twists and turns,
His voice follows me,
“Memento mori”,
I’ve reached the end of my crossroad,
Remember,
I must die.
Sora Sep 2024
We are the things we so desperately desire be kept concealed:

the unsightly sensation of blood
painting our stained hands,

the sheer amount of hopelessness coursing inevitably
though the warren of our lifeless soul.

we are, what we are not.
A glimpse into the contradictions we hide within ourselves.
ironic, isn't it?
Jellyfish Sep 2024
It happened again
I let someone in
I felt like we were close
but we floated apart

I'll try to distract myself with art,
I feel so alone,
but can't tell anyone
is this how it starts?

My montage?

I see it in TV shows,
movies and music videos
People evolve and change
but I seem to stay the same

But I'll wait for my beginning
The part where I press play
and see myself at the end
I wonder, will I be grinning?

I feel full of regret,
but I cannot reach out again
to these people I copied
whether it was a mistake or not

I have realized I don't have identity.
This is why I'm lonely.
I don't know who I am
I know who I like but drive them away

I'm a mirror for others to use as display.
I feel so sad and bitter today.
Jia En Sep 2024
The thief-- she
Took to me
A bit too well--
It was too long before I could tell
Just how much she was taking.
Every piece she was making
Soon turned from hers to mine;
Though she was stealing food
When we sat down to dine.
My words, my soul,
Coming from a theif
Not a month old.
My fingerprints on her gloves.
What did I do
To deserve this?
For you
To take the things I love?
Poetry is
No longer
What makes me stronger,
Above
The crowd.
My voice from your throat
Is far too loud.
poetry is no longer what makes me me. i'm mad.
Saanvi Sep 2024
I am just an image,
Like a flickering candle waiting to die
Like a glimpse of the sun on cloudy days
Like dead roses on my mother's grave
Like dried plants in the flower vase
Like the reflection in my lover's gaze.
I am just an image,
Like summer evenings spent on your porch
Like the first kiss that never happened
Like the scent of your perfume
Like the first time I saw you
Like one sided love and hopeless dreams
Like days that never end and nights that end too fast
Like thoughts that scare me
Like withered and dried sunflowers on my grave
Like my coffin's reflection in my mother's gaze
Like the life I wanted.
But at the end of the day
I am nothing at all.
I am just a  flickering candle waiting to die,
Just an image.
But all these memories that make
Me me are like fleeting winds
That pass away too quickly,
Sometimes too short for my liking.
Without all these moments, I am nothing
But just an image
In someone's eyes.
I wrote this poem as an ode to the power of memories and how they shape our identity. Moments in life define our existence, beyond that it's infinity.
H AE MZ Sep 2024
I drive myself insane, a spiral of doubt and fear,
Second-guessing every move, every word I hear.
Self-sabotage, my constant companion by my side,
Holding me back, shrinking my spirit, an unending ride.

Weary of voices whispering I'm not enough,
Relentless comparisons that leave me feeling rough.
Yearning to be someone else, escape this hollow shell,
Ensnared in a cycle, a never-ending spell.

I long to break free, to matter, to be seen,
Not an afterthought, nor a choice between.
A priority, the first pick, a sure bet,
Cherished and wanted, not left to forget.

From mad, I crave to matter, stand tall and proud,
Silencing critics, shouting my worth out loud.
I have worth, I have value, I am unique,
Deserving of love, to be someone's peak.

No longer will I settle, a mere backup plan,
Refusing to be an option, a grain of sand.
Rising above self-doubt, shattering chains in my mind,
Mattering to myself, my true worth I'll find.

So here's to moving forward, a fresh beginning,
Where I matter to me, my light brightly shining.
No more self-sabotage, no depths of self-esteem lows,
Embracing myself fully, watching my confidence grow.
Capturing the frustration of battling inner demons and the overwhelming weight of comparison and self-sabotage. This poem is about the search for validation, both from within and from others, and the desire to break free from the cycle that feels impossible to escape.
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