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Simon Jul 17
Choosing doesn’t matter much as choosing to be a somebody, would matter… If not for the totality that is the whole (“trying bit”). Trying is like the ultimate reaction time! Not because it has anything to do with choosing something whether or not it’s good or bad, whilst (choosing doesn’t matter) could actually benefit your own (trying phase) into a (somehow) newer light. Why you may ask of this very detail that seems to not shed any more “obvious” light to what’s already been the most obvious of ideals chosen to be the main majority of facts by today's standards…? Well it completely doesn’t. As it entirely does, also. You see both choosing to do something whilst (trying to simply do that very thing) aren’t the same by ANY standards. As their both each other’s direct counterparts! Given standards for a given achieving rate. None will cause you to trade ideal for fact towards choosing over trying. Simply because if choosing doesn’t matter one bit… It’s also fair to say that trying is the ultimate reaction time, because choosing doesn’t matter. Trying is closer to a stimulus. Whilst choosing is closer to a response. A stimulus is better described as being incredibly instinctive. Where you have NO motion, except for what your mind feels when constantly being pulled in so many directions it doesn’t know which way to advise itself otherwise. Commonly being used as a “deterrent for disaster” when being controlled by the very thing it’s meant to control. A response however, is nothing without its stimulus to direct the trigger that at which made you react towards firstly. Warping your very bodies need to get wrapped up into itself. (More direct artificial stimulus rises and falls confusing the bodies signals…which politely anyways sends back to the mind safely.) Threatening to shower even more reactions down on itself from the literal inside out! Nevertheless, this was good for the mind. Gave it some closure as the “god of your own body”! Mind could personally get back at the body for pulling it into thinking it was the god! When truthfully, it was simply the deprived mortal acting as the constant, repeating, signalling pack mule! Hast to know its place after all… Am I right…?! The mind said, confident in its very words. All because the body reacted to something it inadvertently forced the mind into thinking it was being pulled around in so many directions, it didn’t know how to otherwise order its entire counterpart to simply halt! Simply by saying…STOP! However, you must know by now in today's age, that when something is amiss, you don’t simply surrender lightly. Especially when it doesn’t feel right. You ALWAYS listen to when something doesn’t FEEL…RIGHT! Am I right…?!
Choosing isn’t exactly “the worse for wears”. It doesn’t prone someone’s very self to complain when trying to simply do something (for the better). Especially when the potential outcome doesn’t come up as very mature.
Emi Mar 21
Everlasting inflicting pain
Tears open the wounds and scars
And overshadows all victories.
Heads pounding with malice and thrash
Yearning for love and existence
And all received is judgment with hate.
Kindred spirits broken in thrice;
Splitting personalities by the daylight.
Failing is inevitable when happy
Although the marks the skin bare
Witness to the suffering.

Gashing the thoughts into a blade
Hoping for revival of somewhat
Even though its gone intentionally.
Recognition is accepted and beloved
Until it turns violent with despondents.
Tear the pages apart and start anew
But the story will remain the same.
A pale rabbit shudders
Beneath my vile form
And grabbing hands.

I can feel her.
Soft fur, and beneath that warm flesh.
Cold breath running shakily through my fur.

I can smell her.
She's scared, scared that this is her last night.
Her blood is deliciously sweet, dripping through my claws.

The voice screams at me.
"Eat her!" it says, "you know what you want."
"You know this is who you truly are."

This is wrong, I think.
And yet, it feels so natural.
It's all just instinct.

I'm predator, she's prey.
It's only natural, right?
So why does it feel so wrong?

Each day, each night.
Every waking hour
Is spent fighting myself.

I've held myself back
For so long.
Maybe too long

I'm a grey wolf.
A predator.
I know that.

And yet I hide.
I hide from this fact.
I hide from myself.

Something inside me
Looks at them
And just wants to devour them all.

I see not a woman,
But a weak little rabbit
And soft flesh beneath fur.

I scream, I cry.
And yet I can't escape
This everlasting urge.

But should I be trying?
I mean, it's just instinct, right?
A poem about Legosi from Beastars. I was only like three episodes in when I wrote this so I basically knew nothing and I might have gotten his character wrong.
The rabbit is obviously Haru.
You think you're better,
Than who you are.
I know you better,
You are an animal.

Wallowing below your instincts.
Down on all fours.
The animal does not feel,
All it knows is survival.

You **** one another,
So one stays above the other.
No different than the animal,
No different form a carnivore.

To devour is survival,
It is how we stay alive.
Down here in the dirt,
Life feeds on other life.

Your belief that you are above your instincts is fauted when the hunger sets in. Reduced to a single thought, survival of the fittest.
You can try to outrun who you are, you won't get very far.
The animal inside you is waiting dormant.
It is always there, and there it will always be.
Quinn Feb 3
New Life bursts forth
From old shells
Bringing unseen beauty into this world
The sounds of nature quiet
As they sliently gawk
At the newborns
Making they're journey
Towards the ocean
With a bravery unknown to most
Led but an ancient instinct
To slip silently into the waves
Only to return when the time comes
For New Life
To burst forth from old shells
Nylee Jan 23
What, how, why
Things flying by,
Don't trust,
So random!
Nova Dec 2019
In the end it’s love
That will save us from ourselves.
An instinct greater than us
Makes us think of someone else.
Chandra S Dec 2019
…But I fail to grasp…
I really do.

And I fail to write too
about the colossal confusion
in my mind's realm.

To be free must always create glee.

And freedom, consequently,
must incontestably be
the loftiest of all bounty.

…But then they say:

Do not run away from your instincts
…of survival, love, anger, ***…
for if these instincts were not of value,
nature would not have given them to you.

And I muse: Is it true?
Is it?

this incomprehensible link between being free
and the ineluctable visceral slavery?

Won't it rather be that no sooner than you begin to try
to attach (or detach) value to this view or the flip-side

freedom…would indubitably fly


And then they say that one must surrender.
And thus I agonizingly wonder:

when the mind doesn't wish to unwind
…to let go…
and you bully it to do so

you still cannot be set free

for it is only they who say:
Whatever you resist
shall persist.

And I fail to grasp, I really do,
the cryptic intent of this concentrated glue
of chaotic desire and cardinal instinct
inherently inbuilt
by nature's very own inscrutable mechanism
in (wo)man's puppet-like plight

and then making salvation

the sole noble right
of a free spirit.

An afterthought mulishly survives:

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