Just write
When goodbyes hurt more than before
When the most beautiful summer afternoon
Fails to lure you out of your room
When you ache to go back and relive that moment just one more time
When you feel forlorn and hopeless
even amid a thousand loving eyes
When you feel exhausted and tired to the bone
But no matter how much you sleep
That tiredness doesn't recedes
But increases fourfold
When your breath comes out in heavy sighs
And sometimes you even wonder
What's the point of breathing at all
Is it useful for me anymore
Don't hold back
The words that you pen are a source of solace
They'll heal you when all else fails
Soon you will be writing
About affectionate greetings and cheerful hellos
About promising new beginnings
And the excitement of crossing new thresholds
The clutches of winter would melt like snow
And you'll write about the day spent playing soccer in your muddy sneakers
Soon you'll count stars in someone's eyes
And write it down with a shy smile
Hope filled words will fill your mind
You'll sparkle with an energy so profound
And sleep like an innocent baby at night
Eager to breathe the fresh air of dawn
Eager to live once again
To realize that you're so precious
You just had to believe in your hidden strength
And keep writing and fighting through it all
Terry 5d
The tongue is lethal,
A sweet coating for a rotten core.
Every shift of the tide
is another lie.

The tongue is lethal,
a small dose of poison for the chronically ill.
Every promise is broken
and my heart becomes frozen.

The tongue is lethal,
a silent drowning in shallow water.
Every attempt to demoralize
the psyche brings tears to my eyes.

The tongue is lethal,
an eye wide open as my mind drifts to sleep.
This tongue of mine
is a weapon for surefire demise.
I read the scripts and the drafts
And the old stanzas.
The words and letters,
They do not seem to be familiar to me.
Very far from where I was when I wrote them
I thought to myself.
Who am I
What have I been doing.
Those two questions
Kept me up 'til 5 am.
Maybe they are familiar to you.
By all means,
Sit now and read.
Let us suffer together.
The wounded isn't as weak as you perceive
The wounds are just an evidence
Of the battles fought gallantly
Of undying courage and perseverance
A brave show of resilience
When faced with crippling tragedies
The wounded knows how it feels
To push through searing pain
When bruised skin burns
And the night forgets to end
The wounded knows the agony
Of silent screams and voiceless aches
Invisible to the naked eye
A cause of further torment
But a wounded won't ever
Drown in the waves
Of treachery and deceit
His actions are marked by prudence
He's turned wary and vigilant
The wounded is a survivor
He dares to hope tirelessly
Don't mistake him as an injured minion
His scars are a testimony of his strength
The flowers in my living room are wilting
But I refuse to throw them out
I remember the night I got them
More like a dream than a reality

Some days my house smells sweet
Often all I can smell is the rot
The summer heat is unforgiving
And dying quickly becomes dead

The fallen flowerpetals cover my floor
Visitors navigate between them to reach my couch
They talk about the weather and other trivial things
And they, very politely, don’t mention
The dead flowers in my living room
Franz 6d
Stretch the corners of my lips and
press a staple through both edges
while melancholy crawls through my veins
and wraps itself up in my heart space.
Maybe one day it will build a home within me
and become a luminescent blue-winged butterfly
fluttering away into the night as quickly as it lands.  
If, for a second, I follow its flight into the ether and
catch a glimpse of the stars,
may they wisp me away from this body
caught up in its selfish existence
and remind me of the arbitrary nothingness I share
with a common housefly.
The flame!
The flame!
The flame of my heart
burned only for you
The flame no longer eternally
ablaze for you
Free me from this melancholy
I've been feeling
The flame!
The flame!
The flame is put out after you
Now let's set fire to yours too!
Mohamed Adel Mar 2017
As the rain drops fall down
Hitting the ground with that dreadful sound
Every drop for me is a memory
Begging me to scream aloud.

But do I have the right to despair
For the good I have done in my life is all so rare
Maybe if I had once done a useful deed
Then to cry out my feelings I would dare.

Oblivion is the only place I can be
From people’s memories, it’s better if they forget all about me
For my presence is so unfelt and insignificant
If you’ve ever truly known me you would see.

So heavy and suffocating this life I’m living
For all I seem to be good at is sinning
Letting down people’s hopes, I am but a dark cloud
This is a story of a man; unclean, unbecoming, undeserving.
Depressed, stressed
Yeah, she's a fucking mess
The melancholy girl
Can't see anything outside her world
She has massive anxiety
Which probably
Is why she
So alone and fucked up
Scared to open up
To anyone who tries to befriend her
She doesn't feel safe or secure
Around many people, so it causes her problems to be able to trust
Even with inside herself
But she must
Push herself
To be able to go on
To be strong
Even when she feels everything is wrong

Melancholy girl
She can't get up
She doesn't want to face the world
Melancholy girl
She so sad, she so lonely
You can't see behind that smile that it's screaming somebody please understand, (get to know me)

This girl even though she's melancholy
She doesn't give up on trying to be
Taking things on
As they are, as they come
But some
Thinks she needs to stop being so damn helpless
But this
Is not what she is
But yes introspective
And also, an introvert
And she's very alert
Of what is going on around her
And it hurts
When people insinuate and assume things about her
So for sure
She gives them a fuck you attitude
Go ahead she says "imply that I'm sensitive, a rageaholic, and rude"

Melancholy girl
She steps outside her world
To see
Melancholy girl
On a mission to observe and believe
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