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"Will I make it?"
the heart cries.

A thousand tries,
yet I fall.

"Should I lower my expectations?"
it whispers.

"No, it's not over until you win,"
the mind insists,
like night cradles the sky;
light will come soon.
To those chasing their dreams, remember: there's always light at the end of the tunnel for those who remain true to their hard work and dedication.
Andy Mann Apr 4
The voices dwell deep in my mind
You are nobody
You are useless
You know nothing.
Beaten down,
Brought to my knees,
Gasping for air,
I cannot breathe.
I believe.
But this belief sows my destruction
I weep for the dead
Great but now fed
To the worms in the dust
The dust I will join
Sooner than I think.
What good am I among these?

I have wasted the reservoir of time
In sin, in doubt, in fear
Fear of what I left undone.
Where do I go from here?
The voices came calling again.

But I cannot continue like this.
I give up or shut up.
Shut up and act.
Act and believe.

Even if that belief is beyond reason
Beyond my mind to comprehend
The words of a lunatic.

I am greatness personified
if I believe
I am the master of my own universe
if I believe.

I am the king of dust, not its minion
And I will return to my kingdom
When I am done
But not today.
This poem was written during a moment of deep internal struggle. It’s about the voice in the mind that tells us we are nothing—and the quiet resistance that rises in spite of it.
It's inspired by Walt Whitman's “O Me! O Life!”.
Lalit Kumar Apr 1
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

With a laptop bag on my shoulder,
Far from home, in a strange city, at a station,
When I see a child crying in his mother’s lap,
I smile and remember my own home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When sleep gets lost in the dark pits under your eyes,
That’s when life makes sense.
When you face words like rent, ration, electricity, and water,
When a fearless heart begins to feel a little scared,
When the burden of home responsibilities starts weighing on your shoulders,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the one who once cried to get a toy,
Now smiles but takes the wounds,
When someone with a heart of stone is broken like a flower,
When someone more precious than life leaves you alone on the road,
That’s when life makes sense.

When making friends seems more difficult than staying alone,
When a dried rose kept in a diary feels more important,
When someone you see in the mirror feels like a stranger,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you want to cry but can’t,
When you grow so big that in the middle of family fights,
You stand firm and when someone asks, “Is everything okay?”
And you say, “Everything’s fine,”
That’s when life makes sense.

When the lie spoken by your lips
Is revealed as truth by someone’s eyes,
When the dreams of someone get devoured by the crowd around them,
When the silence in the room shouts loudly in your ears,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you realize that nothing is like the destination,
When you understand that there’s no destination like the one imagined,
There’s only the road, far and wide,
When the day doesn’t begin even after the sun rises,
When nothing works the way you want it to,
When a grand house has no one to call home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the moon doesn't show the marks of aging,
When the moon doesn’t show the imperfections and stains,
When the tunes of songs fade into the words of the songs,
When the tears saved all day fall onto the pillow,
That’s when life makes sense.

When coming home on time in the evening seems right,
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

That’s when life makes sense.
That’s when life makes sense.
Love, **** it, still doesn’t make sense.
The Unknown Tower
Quiet & deserted.
A way to the top
The elevator hums, rising.

I step out.
I open the door, enigmatic.
I close the door,
Turn the kn⁰b…

Instantaneously
The cold metal snaps in my hand!
I am locked out.

A voice
Deep Inside !
"Have a glance."

Down,
Down, down,
Down,
Down, down…

I peer over the edge—
Acrophobia strikes!

A war ignites between me
& my unknown ‘Someone.’

I hear the voice again
It is not mine.
Or is it?

I scramble, trying to fix the kn⁰b,
But that 'Someone'—
Powerful, cunning—
A puppet master, a gaslighter,
A shadow pulling the strings.

I can’t think anymore!
Thoughts crumble like shredded paper!
Or did ‘Someone’ crush them for me?

"Do a high dive to nowhere!
Do a high dive to nowhere!
Do a high dive to nowhere!"

The voice pounds like a drum.

Drive,
Drive, drive, drive, drive,
Drive, drive,
Drive…

"My bébé, drive."

Once again,
The table is yours.
The table is yours.

Step forward.
Hesitation wanders, the fear of loss.
Look down.
No acrophobia!

The tower does not end.
The fall never stops.

I turn
& there is no door.

Goodbye.
Will you die to find yourself?
The battle between the self & an unknown force whether it’s internal doubt or an external manipulator.

What do you think it is?
Ankush Mar 16
They ask,
How can I live?

And say,
They could not.

I laugh
and they laugh along.

Some days after,
They ask again,
How can I survive?

And say,
They wouldn't be able to.

I laugh again,
So they laugh along.

Now I ask myself,
How cursed am I?
& I let myself
Cry.

And when they ask again,
I just smile.
When I was 6 , my family found out that I have a disease called celiac disease or for short gluten/ wheat allergy , so basically I can't eat anything made from wheat , my lifestyle and diet is very different from those in my country, I am cut off from eating every thing outside.
So for ten years I have been constantly asked by my friends , cousins and sometimes very close friends , they joke , they ask , they pity , they sympathise , and they ask how can I live.
I don't know if it should have been me more tough to laugh and laugh again on the same question over and over again.
Gideon Mar 8
Strength is not a raging river or a roaring tiger.
Strength is bravery in small, significant things.
Even the smallest things can be significant.
Importance is not decided by money or popularity.
It is chosen by value, meaning, and purpose.
We are not brought into this world only to consume.
We are given the strength to create and choose.
Choose strength every time you are given a choice.
The hardest decisions are the most important, and
Great heights are best seen from your lowest point.
Jeff Bresee Mar 4
I see it time and time again
that beauty’s made by what is spent.
 
A beauty that demands a price
with outer glow and inner ice.
 
And observation seems to tell
it’s only as deep as the well,
 
for come the day the well runs dry…
such beauty simply waves goodbye.
Linden Lark Feb 28
I looked into her Eyes full of sparkle and wonder her mind so full of possibilities and love It spills out all around her. A me from before the world took my voice and crushed me. I promised her the world with one foot outside of her pink polka dot room full of innocence.

With every step I took the air grew colder and my words grew teeth.
I used to hear her cry
Begging me to stop
that I can come back
“there’s beauty in being soft”
enjoy the thunderstorm as it passes
Even with all the damage that it leaves together, We can find the beauty in the rain its smell the refreshment of the cold breeze.

But she doesn't know she is safe in that room because I locked the door and boarded up the windows.
they told me she is too soft.
The world is too cruel for her to be safe.
Her skin bleeds when it hits the outside air. Just pain comes when she is out, and there is no beauty in pain, only suffering.

Her words have become white noise as I wander this condemned house alone. I almost missed... I almost missed “When is the last time you took a moment to look outside?” Barely a whisper on the other side of my childhood door, which caught me off guard because they were never whispered before. She always roared. I'm hit with the crushing realization. Oh no, what have I done to her.  

I stole her voice in trying to keep it for me. Lost in this never ending mazes of who I’m suppose to be.

Her words slowly grow louder, almost as if all she needs is to be seen.
“The storm is gone now, and the birds have began to sing.”
Her words grow bolder as if she finally found her way to be free.
“You abandoned both of us for the sake of me, but the storm has passed, and I promise if you just listen, you can hear the birds sing.” Somehow her hand finds mine on the other side of the door-a connection we have both been searching for.
For the first time I could hear the little birds, even if far off and faint.
“Let me out, unlock this door, and maybe after all this time we can find what we have been searching for”
in that moment I swear I can hear the bird that sings of hope sitting just outside the front door
Wondering if this the moment we have been waiting for to rip this house down board by board.
Rebuilding together to be so much more.
This poem is about reconnecting with the parts of ourselves we’ve locked away—the innocence, the hope, the voice we thought we had to silence to survive. It’s a journey of self-discovery, healing, and the courage to rebuild. I hope it resonates with anyone who’s ever felt lost or disconnected from their true self. Let me know how it speaks to you.
IdleHvnds Feb 27
There are shadows that follow me,
haunting and taunting me.

There are shadows that follow me,
ravenous, salivating, ready to consume me.

They speak ever so sweetly, all the while threading each word with malignancy.

There are shadows that follow me,
I straighten my spine, while I feel them caress me.

There are shadows that follow me,
Paralyzed, while they devour me.

There were shadows that followed me.
Yes, I know that title is from the vampire tv show. Yes, I'm trying to lighten the poem by adding it.
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