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Aimee Phelps Oct 19
Your core swells
With your *****
Once occupied
By a decrepit dungeon
Now resides
A blossoming garden
Watered by forgotten tears
Cry no more, flower child
For the person you used to be
Gabriel Gefin Oct 18
The piercing thrum
Of life begun
A song that doesn’t cease
Irregular strums
Of hearts undone
Heavy cries released
The battering drums
Of those unsung
Will never be appeased
I sang for some
Their bleak souls wrung
By what my voice would tease
A hopeful hum
Bright as the sun
A chant that promised peace
I cried for none
For I was one
Whose song was one that ceased
Now hums and strums
And thrums are done
All sound is now deceased
Mother to violence
Widowing silence
And no one left to speak
Isabella Oct 17
How can I possibly expect someone to love me when I can’t even tolerate myself.
How can I hope to be somebody, anybody, when I’m nothing but a blink amidst the infinite abyss of existence.
Even on my own planet my life won’t be much to remember.
An enemy to myself, a stranger to the world.
Isn’t it unnerving to realize that if I slipped away, the planet wouldn’t know any different.
The ground wouldn’t miss my steps and the sky wouldn’t grieve my gaze and the atmosphere wouldn’t mourn my breaths.
Just another body that doesn’t stay, only fades and eventually decays.
This is why legacy is so important, I suppose.
The only way a soul can truly live on.
Even if earth would go on just the same, even if history wouldn’t notice me gone.
Shattered dreams,
Splattered streams,
Souls lost forever,
Never have I ever,
Imagined that life was not held dear,
A mother and a wife’s rarest tear,
Chernobyl’s sweet children gone,
Borders crossed, never drawn,
9/11’s forgotten brothers and fathers,
Orphaned toddlers,
Roam NYC,
Here, I stand in solidarity,
Never forget Chernobyl and 9/11,
May the trees of heaven,
Bless the victims,
Peace be with you dear inflicted
Never forget the victims of Chernobyl and 9/11...RIP. Life is lost easily; please cherish it. Hannah Baker RIP too.
#The Jay Asher/Hannah Baker vibes
With love, Skylar 🤍
Summer Oct 15
Fickle is the
swirling haze of purple clouds
whispering phantom pleasure of a fleeting crowd
soft lilac and sorrowful wisteria
musing with the late spring’s hysteria
I am posting poems with pictures to better conjure the imagination in my poetic instagram account! You can find me in @xsummerblues if any of you are interested :)))
Norman Crane Oct 9
To look up,
And see the plane flying past,
Is to conceptualize,
The distance between us.
We may sit together on the swing,
Winter slowly rolling in,
And talk,
But we speak in different temperatures.
Your words condense on me,
And drip down my body.
Shivering we see,
That we are separate seasons,
Never again to exist coincidentally.
There will always be,
The distance between us.
Like a Ship in the middle of a storm
Like a Lighthouse...

Like a Car on the verge of the cliff
Like a Bird smitten with a bullet…

Like a Defeated commander
Like a Student on the first day of school…

Like a Mummy that suffered from insomnia
Like a Kid which had to have a good cry…

and Melancholy,
Like Snowman in the full glare of the sun
Like a Sandcastle under the raining…
James Rives Oct 4
we tried to find solace
in unknown deepness--
warmth & respite, ignored
in favor of stranger, atypical strides.

the sounds made sense at first,
then didn't.

imagine asking a question you never want answered,
posture straight and ears turned sideways,
cupped in hand,
yet deafened by sadness.

we weren't going to work,
but only time could tell us no
so firmly we stopped denying it.
Spriha Kant Oct 1
For concealing myself from the wicked eyes of melancholy , I tightly hug reverie and melt into its fragrance on intertwining with it as a twinkling soul.
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