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Jay Apr 30
I was born from the absence. Each door shut with a lock, a mirror reflecting back, and the quiet of the room becoming a verdict of my time. So I begin to orbit around like a moon, grasping for gravity just to stay near. I beg for pull, the proof that I still matter, even when I’m not in the room. I ask more questions than a survey. Not because I’m trying to pry, but because I’m throwing my anchor overboard. Stitching myself into the moments between us, before even the moment itself forgets it existed. And yet, I still notice. The shifts you make beneath my weight. The way the joy across your face tightens when I ask once more, Where have you been? Who all was there? What was I not included in? It’s as if smoke is filling my lungs, and I blame the room if it slips through. I want to know all that I can, because once, I knew nothing. And that nothingness hollowed me out, left me so quiet I echo when I’m left alone in the silence for too long. I see how I steal your breath when you try to breathe. How your time gets stretched thin by my persistent questions, my mere presence,
this velvet desperation for belonging so complete you’ll forget I ever even asked. But I’ll probably still ask. I always seem to ask. Because when I think of it, if I’m not fully part of the moment, was I ever really there?
Saanvi Apr 26
If I never get to be as beautiful
as all the pretty girls around me,
at least let me be

the scattered breeze ruffling your skin,
the scattered wind carrying whispers from the mountains,
the scattered sunlight illuminating cracked walls.

If I never get to be as graceful
as all the eloquent girls around me,
at least let me be

scattered like desert sand
all over your landscape.
At least let me be

scattered like drops of water
coloring the morning leaves.

Scatter my ashes, aghast, into ocean water,
because—

if I am never pretty enough for you,
at least let me be...
at least let me be,

who I am in reality:
a scattered mosaic
with missing pieces....
I am a scattered mosaic with missing pieces. My soul has been fragmented time and again....
The ear bends to sound–
as does the ground, to the man
in the weeds; tangled by their doubts.
Wet eyes, as the sea; stained cheeks
I follow an emptiness with the fullness
of hope; to the bending sounds of knees

click, click!

My body starts to feel like wet pavement –
a couple slip ups, for the mind to easily recall
Anxious slow breaths, exhaling and inhaling
I cry out, “I don’t want to do this life anymore”

Taking a moment to clear out that sound,
bending backwards; but why for them, at all
These inner voices, are all so FREAKING loud  

Wait no, my insecure self, is just talking to itself.
Simon Bridges Apr 23
After conscription to endure
                              One outing
I’ve no heart or smile for a new
                                  Bon voyage

You have no heart or smile
                                           Came a reply

Is this truly what you think
Is this what I have become
A person sober and grey
Without appetite
                            For life
Perhaps Iv'e forgotten it's taste
Perhaps I am anorexic
Perhaps your right

                         Perhaps I’m tarnished
                         Perhaps I never forget
Perhaps the poppies will cease to whisper
Impossible for me to imagine the horror of war..
But having a go, this is how I may have responded after serving and surviving WW1 only to be faced with prospect of doing it all over again in WW2. Last British soldier to serve in both wars past away in 2009 - Respect love and light
Zywa Apr 20
Our nature to keep

our world safe makes us afraid --


of foreign people.
Poem "Évian" (2017, Ghayath Almadhoun)

Évian Conference in 1938 (32 countries) on the Jewish refugees from Germany and Austria, after which the Völkischer Beobachter writes on July 13th: "Keiner will sie haben" ("Nobody wants to have them")
Kalmia lily Apr 13
And you look at your own flesh ,
Disgusted by the smell and taste
So you take on another one ,
Hoping it won’t make a change

The hatred reflects in your eyes ,
Of deep , now ***** brown ,
You can’t convince yourself you’re lovable ,
So you try others  until your capable

To feel it , drown in it ,
Allow intamcy in a way that’s from within
And you’re fighting , and you’re tired
You’re tired of losing , dying inside ?

And all that hatred is overbearing ,
You’re consumed with it but it still exudes from your pores ,
That’s the origin and cause of the foul smell you noticed
You tried to cleanse your soul , but there’s just more & more

And you blame , blame and blame , the only ones that loved you
You point your finger , hate and blame , the ones that loved you
Cause you know they won’t point back , hate back , by love for you
You will do it all , to deny the problem being you

Has your lame trickbook not been sullied enough ?
In a way that makes you barely notice its words ,
After each use , it gets a little more rough
Left with the guilt and the whole world

And that smell , oh that reeking smell !
Of all the things you hate ,
Of all the things you loathe
Including your poor self

I feel sincere and utter pity ,
That you’re unable to look at yourself in a mirror
Whether for your greatness and successes
shortcomings or weaknesses

You put yourself through things you simply cannot overcome
And you’re unravelled , faced by the consequences
Another mirror you close your eyes to
The mirror of consequence  

You were to speak words of utter and complete understanding
But wearing someone else's skin cancels out achievements
Did you believe you could bare the glory ,
but not the face of the enemy ?

Though your acheivements were clear as day ,
Written all over that face , so beautiful face
And just how you harvested the inability to conceive your heart made of gold ,
You harvest the inability to see things-not how they seem , but how they are told .

And so you move like an evil spirit ,
Shallow and insincere ,
You’d think you’d hate it up there, living  in fear
But you take a particular liking to that kind of mischief

You find power in the ego and the lie ,
Cause it blinds you enough from the inevitable demise
Blinds you from your biggest fear of sinful tides
That you get swayed  with no bark , and no fight
Something as harmless as insecurity has the power to drive you into the most evil and unfulfiling currents . love yourselves in order to love others in a way they deserve .
Zywa Apr 3
Heart of my heart, soul

of my soul, show yourself, then --


I will be happy.
Air "Vedrò con mio diletto" ("With delight I will look"), from the opera "Giustino" (Emperor "Justin", 1724, libretto Nicolò Beregan, music Antonio Vivaldi, RV 717), 1st act, 8th scene - emperor Anastasio

Collection "Love Mind and Death"
Joan Mar 16
Your friends acknowledge my insecurity
Late-night talks about your history
And the pretty girls before me
"You see him too much,
You take him away from us"
Why am I there?
And why would I care?
Maybe I am a phase,
Slowly I will fade.
Thoughts on last night
drive through me leave me bare, abandon me poor

thrive not, heart don't be full
more dis-ease please, get me more out of my essence, moo
me out of my God Given Throne fool,
i belong in the zoo.
show me how bad you can beat me past what I threw
five pieces of glass, my crew
i broke my own heart because i can't stand myself, whew!

i'm now reflecting how best i like my heart, i drool
five pieces of my heart needing some glue.

hive oozing honey stained with poo
i don't know how to nurture my worth so i demand that from you
an impossible feat, i like you prefer a toxic hue.

live deep down, i want more ease and juiciness... but ooh,
that's too much work, i want it on a silver platter, boo!
jive to my disdain you fool,
remind me of my inadequacies like it's in, new
tell me everything wrong with me like i always knew
may my most authentic self never see the view,
die, noone wants to know you, eew!
ouch!
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