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Strangely

It is

People

Versus / For

People

Mostly missing

“All”
Trying to be a part of all
maristella Sep 4
love makes you forget what's important
it's an irrational feeling
making lose track of yourself
and only think of him.

so i dont want love
im not combortable with becoming a person of love.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2
Pi with love won’t die
it’s irrational but rational
between the infinite Creator
and finite creation.

A creation is dead zero
somewhere being irrational
with the eternally Irrational
That can’t be thought,
or felt let alone be seen
is beyond the imagination!
But Qun Be the very creating Voice
at the beginning that
was allowed to be heard!
Giving the rational reason
the creation revives on a tangent.
Turns on to a perfect circle counting on
both worlds perfectly closed!

Follows the Voice in the nothingness abyss
pleasantly resonant throughout
the deepest and darkest hours showing light.
Suddenly the creation becomes so relevant
finds love that was in creating the creation.
It starts to discover its own
seductive narrative arc:
The vital three acts
the beginning, the middle and the end!

But finds no true end
therefore no middle in the middle
no, begin in the beginning.
The creation in the creation
floating in the void nothingness
starts to see the Irrational for good!
Artem Mars May 5
They can separate themselves from their demons
I can’t
The demons I carry around have been my best friends for so long,
I can’t tell the difference from them,
And me
They know when a thought is being placed there from something non-human
I don’t
They talk so much it pours out my mouth
The demons say they love me,
So Me, being desperate for love
Accept them
Then I follow their rules
- eat little- sleep none- cry always- tears never
And so many more
I’m no longer self-regulated because I'm no longer myself
They swallowed me
Since I can’t tell the difference between us, I willingly gave myself up
Traded myself
For a monster
That only brings others down, or drags me down, to lift others higher
They have become me
They are me
There Isn't a distinction anymore
There isn’t a red font to tell me what ideas to avoid
Because I don’t avoid any ideas at all
Nothing is off-limits, they tell me if I see a thought,
Take it
No matter who it hurts, especially if it hurts me, if you think it, you can do it!
They tell me
You only live once
So they make it hell, but only to prepare me for what’s to come,
They’ve convinced me they only have my best interest in mind, I let them make walls
To protect me
a lil poem about my brain
Bryce Nov 2019
The soul
Is seen beneath a face of glass
With eyes looking up
As
Beads of water from clouded skies
Dispersed across the pane.
Anon Aug 2019
Why don't they like me?
What can I do to change?
No matter what I do,
everything stays the same.

All of these thoughts
darting around inside my head.
As I write in my diary
words are leaping onto the two-page spread.

As these words come out, so do the tears
because I start to see all of my fears.
Now that they are in front of me it is all just too much
and so I take out my kit and start to cut....

As the blood runs down my arm
I can feel myself becoming calm.
In my head, I can hear them saying
just keep going and no telling!

I know that these thoughts are sometimes irrational,
but that doesn't stop me from taking them as factual.
Susanna Jun 2019
my poems are so good that they're bad. they are infinitely deep and meaningful and therefore don't mean anything at all.
Blake Jun 2019
The strange occurrence of love,
is one to not indulge,
in a vision with no light,
the black is a loving home,
with broken souls that become a gentle touch,
what once was blue from blurs of youth,
is grey with undignified truth,
do I ditch the spoken or the seen,
the felt or the unreality,
the body or the soul,
the heart or my cold bones,
echoes of conscious and the unwilled,
fireflies and deaths of stillness,
a mix of nothing and the scrape of something,
the lack of knowledge about my understanding,
mix of thoughts and lack of action,
seems my mind has turned into
a poisoned slushi of carnage
and
dying passion.
Mary Mar 2019
There's a spider in the corner
Spinning silk into structure
I'm repulsed by this intruder
Just the same I want to touch her

I watch her distrustingly
I must admit she frightens me
Weaving an intricate canopy
Above my ficus tree

She thinks she's safe there but instead
For fear she may drop on my head
I am going to have to **** her
Creepy, calculating, dead
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