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Artis 4d
The same eyes that cry for you,

They lie to you. 💔
Maria Jul 1
Hello, whom I'll never meet,
Never hear, never forget,
Never loose and never find,
Never spot and never mind.

Hello, who'll turn up in my dreams,
Who'll never let me to taste the pain,
Who'll never betray and never lie,
Who'll never depart without goodbye.

I take leave of you, my unknown one,
My unsearchable and remarked for none,
My unnamed and mythic for last,
But so endlessly and sweetly loved.
Thank you for reading this poem! 💖
Ayin Ghanz Jun 19
Hope is a lie people cling to
a lie they wish upon believing it
But one day it'll disappear into the blue
Watching your dreams shatter bit by bit

Hope is a lie with feathers
Silently waiting for you
But once you get near it shatters
runs away from you like an unsolved clue

Hope is a lie, a cruel one
One which leaves you waiting for more
and when your happiness reaches its peak
It leaves you broken and alone
It leaves you shaken from the bones to the core
It leaves you empty and feeling like a freak

Hope is a lie, many learned to be careful fromButt those unfortunate souls dressing for prom
thinking they're going to get their prince
But leaves the floor drunk from drinks

And so goes for love
making a fool of us
tricking us, making us think we're above
The heartbreak it does is treasonous
Hope is a lie, you unfortunate souls who still believe. I guess its from my past experiences but we learned not to hope much. If you have no expectations, you get no disappointment
Nobody Jun 11
god, i'm so sorry
last time was really close
i'm doing better now
i promise

just don't look under my sleeve
and it'll all be okay
Sophie Jun 8
A prisoner’s home in my lungs,
combinations of words
I never dare imagine to speak.
The fantasy often entertains me.
I resist to entertain the fantasy,
yet my heart picks up pace
trying to get in touch with you.
I told her, I am nothing in your heart!
Couldn’t comprehend,
as you are essential to her functioning,
in a higher line than oxygen, nutrients, blood.
I loved a ghost
stitched from soft words
and glances that meant nothing.
I touched a dream
and swore it had a pulse.
And now I grieve
not you-
but the person I thought you were.
Tayler May 20
i lied to my therapist.
i’m not really sure why.
i feel a comfort in her office
with her helplessly millennial decor
and cozy lighting.

even with a bright smile and warm greeting,
a welcoming conversation.
a look of concern flashed across her face as she asked me
i lied.

i’m sure she could tell.
it was nothing against her.
i felt shame.
an impulse in the place where truth makes the most sense.
i still lied.

i ponder the reality of my lies
small things.
big things.
things i tell myself.
if i can’t even tell myself the truth,
of course i would lie to others.
but i don’t want to.
i don’t like lying.

i wish honesty was my policy
but it still seems to be people pleasing to my core.
i’m frustrated
i’m hurt
yet i’ve done this to myself
how could i?
Zywa May 20
Really every lie

does need a decent wardrobe --


of nice eloquence.
Story "Il guardaroba dell'eloquenza" ("The wardrobe of eloquence", 1908, Luigi Pirandello)

Collection "Actively Passive"
Piyush May 14
The beauty of sky
Lives within a lie.
The beauty of love
Is touched with gloves.
The beauty of truth
Isn’t found in fruit.
The beauty of goodbye
Is wrapped in a lie.
The beauty of lie,
Sleeps inside a die.
A Vryghter May 12
“I walk into a room,
someone pats a chair beside them.
I don’t look them in the eye,
but admire their brown loafers.
‘How are you, kiddo?’
Her voice is sincere.

‘Good.’
I lie.

I walk into a room,
she pats the chair again.
This time, I sit down.
Her trousers have a stripe.
‘How are you, kiddo?’
Her voice is soft.

‘I’m okay.’
I choke back.

I walk into a room.
she pats the chair like usual.
I look up carefully,
she has the slightest lines.
‘How are you, kiddo?’

‘I don’t know.’
I recognise my own face.”

A.V.
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