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irinia Jul 2023
as I am trying to learn as much as I can
from the self of trees, wind, of bees and birds
of the unlanguaged child I still am, from
wise men and women through the arch of time
I am well aware that we can keep each other captive
inside the machinery of make-believe that makes lonely
bodies & sunsets bearable
I can't help feeling I am just this,
a vagabond in such a deep mystery
Zack Ripley Jul 2022
You thought you'd left the days of make believe behind by the time you were nine.
And yet, years later, here you are
making yourself believe you'll be okay
so you can make your baby believe the same.
Somewhere along the way,
we seem to correlate imagination
with maturity.
But what if it has less to do with growing up and more to do with surviving?
What if it's a defense mechanism?
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
I use make-believe
overwriting memory
it brings me some peace

The fiction I’ve weaved
you’re at the store - you wouldn’t leave
is a fool’s relief

So I take mine neat
sweet ****** of self-deceit
my strange trick or treat
a play, in 3 Senryus
I wanted to do something seasonal, with trick or treat in it and what if the trick were the treat?
Brumous Apr 2021
I dreamt of memories we had,
while gazing at the mundane downpour of the rain
as each splatter plummets to the ground;

I slowly realized that it wasn't "us" who had them
It's just me longing for you...

Waiting underneath the summer rain, trying to mend;
I, who was in vain

If our realities weren't such a pain,
maybe our love---no, my love for you
could blossom along with yours;

Instead of enduring the agony
of being unloved by this fictitious you
I can't help but love you,
but it is you who is untrue.
Pyrrha Mar 2021
Isn't it messed up
The way I only feel like somebody
The only time I truly feel real
Is when I'm someone else
In a daydream that never ends

The concept of me, of now
Is so far and distant
It echos from somewhere deep inside me
Somewhere I can't find
Somewhere I don't look

How can I do or be what's expected of me
When that person doesn't exist
How can I be the perfect child
When the only freedom I've ever known
Is when I lock myself in my minds cage?

How can I comfort someone
When all I know are phantom hugs?
How do I feel success
When every accomplishment I've achieved
Has never been enough?

What future do I look to
When all my dreams are trampled on
By people who can't see what I do, but know better
Why is life only worth living
When I block it out with make-believe?
Ooolywoo Feb 2021
Il est 1h27 du matin à Dakar
Debout sur le balcon; un désir d'aventurier de l'inconnu m'envahit, de celle qui s'échappe du temps et de la terre mère qui l'étouffe ensevelie sous son noyau.
Le vent me caressant le visage, je l'entend m'inviter à l'hymne de ma liberté. Le bruit des avions m'emportent dans un monde d'aisance et d'émancipation, l'échos des Zikrs me tirent vers ma raison profonde et ma familiarité.
Je ferme les yeux en proie à la nostalgie. Essayant de me souvenir des beaux moments de ma vie; le vent me berce dans l'abstrait où mon âme se jette dans l'aura poétique de la magie des rêves.
Le marchand des rêves m'emporte sur une plage éclairée par la claire de lune et un feu de camp; jouissant d'un ciel dégagé et très étoilé.
La brise me mets à nu devant ses caresses ardentes et m'enivre de son odeur. Je me laisse flotter sur ses ondes.
Le sable en velours réchauffant mes pieds au rythme d'un Samba; riant de toute mon âme et transpirant au rythme de la danse. Nos âmes se transforment en une unité d'énergie donnant naissance à un cycle d'existence de désirs.
Je me confie à mon instinct comme pour consoler mon amour.
A l'horizon, la morosité morbide condamnée dans le concret. Aimant ardemment et follement cet abstrait merveilleux qui me berce.
Qui berce cet amour non réclamé, et cette liberté condamnée. Qui depuis longtemps poussent leur barque fragile à bout de force.
Aussi romantique que la poésie, je danse amoureusement et passionnément avec l'inconnu de mes pensées. Et dans cette passion insensée, de l'infini sublime rêve que cherche l'esprit, la réalité envahit l'abstrait et en fait un asile.
Un asile qui éveille mon cœur à chaque moment d'inattention ou de solitude. Un asile qui m'ouvre ses portes à ses extases fantaisistes quand l'ivresse de la réalité devient lourde et étouffante.
A poem I wrote in 2012 when all I wanted back then was to escape my life, travel around the world and see other realities, get away from everything. Translating in English will not give it justice.
remember a time
when an imaginary friend
was real
and portable phones were
make believe
Jules Nov 2019
I knew for sure there was no guarantee
But what's the harm if I agree
For a few seconds
That what I see
Is more than just make believe
JKM Oct 2019
Why are you doing this to me?
Making me wait anxiously for your replies
Making me worry by telling me lies
Lies like you're fine, and you're okay
While your eye says otherwise

Why are you making things so complicated?
Making me question whether it's coincidence or fated
Making me wonder, are we really connected
Or are we just two lost souls longing to be accepted

You see, I don't even know what's happening to me
I don't know what we are and neither what we'll be
I myself am not even sure if there really is a 'we'
Or is it just a make-believe story I made in my fantasy
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