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When your stories are against you
You feel like the sideline character
Ppl tell you, your Soo farr behind
A look at yourself, you would shatter the mirror
You hated what you were
Even after doing your bestt
You felt like a mess
You had forgotten where you came from
You had forgotten your dreams and ambition
Once again when you saw the colors of the world
You realized that you weren't the problem
Ppl wanted to distroy a talent
And you made their challenge simpler.
A poem I wrote after realizing that many people sacrifice themselves to please others, we should always remember that we are the only permanent person in our lives Soo our first priority is to love yourself.
The rose of love withered on the vine
In lifeless disposition she'd remain
Her syrupy nectar slowly did decline
A bewailing sorrow in ending twain
No recapture of a past happiness
The petals perished browning to dark
Disappearing elation's gleefulness
A flower's heart minus her loving spark
Without the touch of fondness on the bloom
Her brilliant brightness faded well away
Those wondrous days were replaced by gloom
Sombre melancholy of saddest pall's shay
As dusk's hour turns to the dying closeness
Reflect on the rose's mood of dimness
She’s afraid of
reopening old wounds.

Scared of feeling
the burns
beneath her skin.

She’d rather feel
consciously numb
than ever have to
confess her self-reflections,
because she’s afraid rejection
will leave her lifelessly
Sanmi Pawar Nov 2020
She stood by the door, with tear-stricken eyes;
A small-little push, and they'd be inside.
She thought of her mother, who left her all alone;
She wished for a father, who would care her like his own.
Her thoughts were broken, by the furious bangs on the door;
She begged the Lord of mercy, even if she wasn't the one wrong.
Her frail body was thrown aside, as they rushed into the room;
She closed her dead eyes, awaiting her doom.
Throughout the push and pull, she did not utter a word;
For she knew her mistake, of being born as a Girl.
I'd walk my way to the realm of peace,
That I may find rest for my weary soul.

Alicia Moore Sep 2020
This house is made of ice.
A gelid, brass interior awaits me with wicked vice.

Stepping through the frozen doors,
I fall into my own homely grave.
A familiar capsule with silky floors.

Paintings hang upon each wall,
Lifeless and disturbed.
Although, the images do utter one final whisper before tightening the noose—
“Beware of the abominable master of abuse.”

I wish to float,
As with each step the rivers of blood in my feet howl.
Icicles pierce through my soles;
Daggers with a bright smile...

I am only ever welcomed into this house of ice
With a vast iniquitous price.
Light up my life
Like a sky full of dying stars

Because my life
Has been useless so far

The starlight enters our eyes
Even though the star is dead

I see my reflection smile
Even though I've long been led
Away from life.
Parin Jun 2020
I am lifeless
Such as a dry falling leaf
Dead from inside
Yet restless and rustling
In the wind
As to go far away
To separate itself from it's roots
And never to come back from where it once left.
Piyush Sharma May 2020
It started as a camouflaged war,
Though the end appeared to fall apart,
But it had already begun,
You being alone & there's no way to run.
Neither a day nor a night,
Would settle this life-less undying fight.
And every time you fight yourself,
An undying strength comes by,
But a part of you is unknowingly expelled.
Yes life can be easy, but actually its not when you talk about the reality. Every word here counts its meaning. We write hard.
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